A HAND THAT WILL NOT HARM YOU - TWICE X HERO!READER
✧ pairing: Jin Bubaigawara (Twice) x hero!reader
✧ word count: 5.3k | AO3 Mirror
✧ warnings: angst, like discussions of suicide but not in a specific or detailed way, smut, light smut, afab reader no pronouns, semi-public sex technically, sex outdoors, smoking cigarettes, mentions of blood, canon typical violence
✧ summary: After an encounter with a hero who has no qualms accepting death in the line of duty, Jin comes face to face with the reason for his existence, and the futility behind this constant battle with good he fights, while sharing smoke with his new friend on a rooftop as you partake in one of the few reasons to remain horribly alive.
✧ a/n: For my 1k Don’t Go Breaking My Heart Collab ! Thanks so much to everyone else who participated, I’m working on the masterlist! Also mine is very late to my own collab but eh. It’s been awhile since I wrote anything so hope it turned out! Be warned it is angst and reader is kinda losin the will to live literally in the beginning, but it’s also not ~heavy~ I don’t think. Has more dnd tired warrior vibes than anything else. Still head the warning!
Jin wasn’t sure why exactly he did it.
Or, more appropriately, why he didn’t do it.
Spinner and Dabi were shouting behind him, the sound of their boots pounding against the concrete floor of the parking garage reverberated around in his skull. The jarring clack of panicked footsteps drowning out every other voice except for go, run—
“Get on the ground!”
The hero’s voice rang deep in his chest and stung like a shot as they called after him. Spinner swore somewhere to his left, the metallic rattling of knife blades the only warning Jin got before a pained shriek echoed through the maze of cement pillars.
“Stop where you are!”
He felt the blistering heat of Dabi’s flames burst to life over his shoulder as another unfamiliar voice joined the din. Jin’s eyes watered as the thick, cloying smell of charred flesh stuck to the fabric of his mask and choked any attempt at measured breathing. As the air grew unbearably hotter, every shout began to muddle together—forming a single, discordant cacophony.
Jin’s legs shook as he broke into a sprint, sweat running in waves down his back and stinging his eyes. His vision began to tunnel, growing murky black around the edges, leaving nothing but the slow incline of each new floor. The mass of grating sound mingled with the blood pounding in his ears. He stumbled as the rapidly depleting oxygen—eaten away by Dabi’s attempts to clear a route out—destroyed the last remnant of any coherent thoughts.
He knew nothing more than escape—the slowest of suffocations.
His partners ran across his field of view and Jin was only vaguely aware of the slash adorning Spinner’s back, quickly leaking dark red and the smoke that poured from each of the staples in Dabi’s cheeks.
Jin couldn’t be certain when they’d reached the roof, but the new, uninhibited gust of city wind alleviated some of the shock from his system.
Just enough that his burning eyes could register another figure amongst the fray.
You lept into view, standing firmly on the roof’s ledge and blocking his only means of exit. Behind you were lower buildings, a jump to which meant safety.
Meant success.
Meant freedom.
“Twice,” Spinner shouted, still fighting off one of the remaining pursers. “Get us the fuck out of here!”
He could.
It would be easy for Jin to take care of you. Just a few doubles and a shove and they’d be on their way back to the bar.
“Fucking do it, man!” Dabi called to his left as your eyes locked on him.
Your footing wasn’t solid. Jin honed in easily on the stiffness in your knees from one too many injuries. The set of your shoulders was stooped too low, your balance shifted forward to make up for the wind.
A single shove and you’d be spiraling down to your death six stories below.
It would be easy.
“Twice, let's go!” Spinner commanded from his right, sword currently impaled in the chest of your cohort.
And he would have done it—really truly sent you to die without a second thought, had every intention of doing it. The clones sprang quickly to life, drawing your focus away just long enough for Jin to rush forward and place his hands hard on your shoulder’s, ready to shove with the force of the wind—
But then he happened to glance at your face, and the world seemed to pause around him for just a single moment.
The blood quickly pooling at Spinner’s feet came to a halt and the explosion of gas-stove blue fire at Dabi’s fingertips ceased to flicker as Twice met your eye and made three crucial observations.
The fabric under his hands was flimsy, thin spandex and cotton that offered no protection or leg up in a fight and quite nearly ripped as he gripped at your throat to throw you off kilter.
His eyes traveled up from your chest and found your face once again, registering as he did then that it was bare. No mask to disguise your identity or protect the vital points at your temples or neck. You bore the marks of it as well, the evidence of past battles written on all the bare skin you’d left undefended.
But what truly caused him to falter—what made him pull you in and bury his knee into your ribs instead of casting you down to the pavement below—was the look you gave him.
Your hands that had balled into fists, ready to knock his jaw from its socket, relaxed into open palms, and the snarl that sat in your teeth turned up at the edges.
The strange, phantom smile was soft on you despite the surrounding gore. Soft and barely there, like snow on warm asphalt. Jin would have missed it if it hadn’t been for your eyelids drifting shut and your hands coming to rest on his forearms, pulling him in too. Making certain his grip stayed strong, ensuring you’d not walk away from this particular fight.
But Jin didn’t miss it.
He saw the horrific relief in the crinkles at the corners of your eyes and how smooth your palms were as they held him to you at that single point of deadly contact. How they squeezed gently at the skin, the way Magne often did as she directed him through a crowd—like a friend, with no ill intent, guiding him where he was meant to be.
He saw the many openings you had at your disposal to kill him too, the strength evident in your hold.
And he saw how you took none of them.
It was some combination of all of these things that sucked every ounce of strength from his arms where they held you. As he stared through his mask at your face—relaxed as though in sleep, holding him softly as though you knew him, trusted him—Jin was struck with the realization that he simply couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t land the blow.
Couldn’t send you over the edge.
Couldn’t kill you.
So he didn’t.
Instead of following the shouts of his comrades, Jin kicked up into your chest so hard he could nearly see the wind being knocked straight out of your lungs. Your eyes shot open only for a moment—that awful look of peace distorted in shock. Heavy you fell, slumped into his chest before he had the time to scramble back as his clone rushed forward to land a second blow.
Gasping to the ground, you heaved at the second kick to your head, eyes rolling back and body going still.
But still breathing, he noted in the midst of it all. Cracked ribs still working under the strain of each breath.
His doubles were shouting around him. Spinner was wounded and stumbling away from another hero, now crumpled as well in their own bloody mess. The two identical figures helped to drag his friend to the edge and carry him safely down to the second, lower roof. Jin scrambled away too, only moving forward as Dabi shoved him over the side and brought up the rear.
Your wheezing breaths—the sight of you smiling, holding him, waiting for the final push, shove, then nothing—followed him across each new rooftop and did not fade until he was safely tucked away in the bar Shigaraki had offered them shelter in.
Shigaraki who snapped at him when Dabi snitched on his decision to spare you. Shigaraki who let him keep his bed anyway, who didn’t complain about the blood he’d tracked inside. Shigaraki who still didn’t understand. Still told him not to show any mercy again.
Shigaraki, who hadn’t seen you in that moment. Hadn’t experienced the odd, time stopping silence and felt the weight of your confounding, half smile, the soft weight of your hands.
Jin was certain in the small span of time it took to sulk off to his room that had his boss been there, he’d have done the same.
But the minute his head came to rest on the familiar, bare mattress, he couldn’t help but think that really—had it been Shigaraki in his shoes—had it been Dabi or Spinner or anyone else on his small list of allies—there would be nothing left in that cage of concrete but a small pile of dust and not a single look back.
When he closed his eyes, it was your face he saw again. Staring at him, surprise and fear and betrayal written in the crease of your brow and the turn of your lips as he left you on the ground.
Still breathing.
---
“You’re thinking about it again?”
“No I’m not—yes I am!”
Dabi turned in his seat to give Jin the full experience of his incredulous look, whiskey spilling over the rim of his glass as he waved it.
“Wow, very subtle,” Dabi spoke with a slow drawl which Jin chose to attribute solely to the drink and not to his friend’s general affinity for sarcastic teasing. “You’re really improving.”
He didn’t bother clapping back, he’d only end up proving the point further. So Jin went back to sulking, digging around in his pocket for a smoke, pulling a cigarette from the box with his teeth. Dabi sat, still watching from the corner of his eye, reaching over a hand with two fingers glowing blue at the tips before Jin had a chance to fumble around for a lighter.
He was kind enough to let Jin have the first, calming drag, before snatching the cig for his own. Dabi’s thumb absently brushed against his lips as he pulled back to take the stolen hit of nicotine. Jin couldn’t help but notice how smooth the pads of his fingers were.
Smooth, soft hands. No gloves, bare on his arms, pulling him in—
“I could have.”
Dabi exhaled before speaking, little rings of smoke drifting from his parted lips through the hazy bar lighting. “Could’ve what?”
It wasn’t really a question even though he said it like one. Dabi knew. He was there. He was the one who dragged Jin from the scene of his crime—the evidence left hacking in the dust hundreds of roofs away.
“I could have done it.”
Dabi didn’t believe him, even though it was the only small truth Jin had dared to offer about that night. He was right.
He could have, he just—
“So why didn’t you?”
Jin thought for a moment.
Because your hands were soft, maybe.
Because even through the fabric of his suit, Jin could feel it. Not soft in an easy way either, but soft in the way that a callous gets over time the more you work at it. Like you’d spent years grinding them down until they were smooth and worn as a river stone.
Or maybe because you held him, no matter how split second short it was and he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him kindly.
It might have been any number of reasons, any multitude of maybe’s.
So yes, he could have killed you, but no he didn’t.
And that’s why every penny offered for his thoughts these past few weeks had been wasted. It had been you since the moment you smiled in the face of your doom.
“I don’t know,” he said, after a long pause.
Because it was the truth, no matter what Dabi chose to believe.
A scarred hand placed the cigarette back between Jin’s lips, before it trailed down along the stubble of his exposed jaw and settled for cupping his cheek.
Two fingers inched their way under the fabric of his mask, shoved half up and pinched at the sensitive skin there.
“You’re too good for this world, man,” Dabi murmured before pulling away and sauntering off up the stairs.
Jin could tell by the chill in his stare, that he hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
---
In all his, admittedly short, time alive, Jin had found very few things that truly rendered him speechless. In fact, it was quite a feat for anything to astound him so thoroughly that no stream of thought was bursting forth to spill from between his teeth.
Seeing you—alive of course and leaning casually against the front wall of a convenience store with neon lighting casting shadows on your face—did the job.
The plastic bag of stolen goods tumbled to the sidewalk as the sliding glass doors closed behind him. Jin watched your head snap to the side as cans and bottles rattled against the pavement and he stood, dumbstruck and frozen to the spot.
He ought to run, he thought—give himself a head start in the chase that was sure to come.
But he didn’t.
You seemed to have that effect on him.
Though you stayed rooted to your spot as well, foot kicked back against the siding. Your eyes were clearer now, without the haze of adrenaline and ash. They traveled up from his boots, taking in the casual clothes until they met his face, mask still obscuring any defining features.
He saw the slight widening in your gaze, the moment of recognition, and tensed himself for battle.
But it did not come.
Instead, you nodded to him almost politely, turning your face away from the harsh, blue and pink lights as if to say:
Go on.
I didn’t see anything.
But Jin did not go on, against whatever better judgment he still possessed. No, he stayed where he was, surrounded by cheap, shoplifted food in crinkled plastic packaging, staring into the face of a phantom. Because you definitely saw him and he couldn’t have stopped looking at you if he tried.
For all his shock, you seemed generally unaffected. Even peered at him expectantly from the coroner of your eye, waiting for him to scurry like a rat into the night.
Though, as with all decisions, Jin made the worst possible of all and did exactly the opposite of that.
The wall was cool against his back as he leaned against it. Mirroring your stance with a foot kicked back and his bag of contraband settled on the ground by his feet. Jin’s hand habitually reached for the small box in his pocket, flicking out a cigarette and biting the filter.
“You mind?” he asked as he clicked the lighter to life, lifting his mask and taking a drag before you’d actually had time to respond.
The answer was no anyway, judging by the quiet laugh and somewhat exasperated shake of your head.
You stood with your chin tilted up towards the streetlights, nothing but the sliding door separating your shoulder from his. It was strange how the distance seemed so small and so gaping at once.
“How’ve you been?”
Jin wasn’t sure why exactly he chose that question other than it seemed to be the thing to ask when there wasn’t anything else to say.
That and he wanted to hear the answer.
There was a pause and a sigh and then:
“Tired,” you said the way Jin imagined any salary worker might—all wry smile and eyes cast to the ceiling. “You?”
“Better” he responded in kind. “Terrible.”
The comforting burn of smoke filled his lungs and he held in the drag as long as he could before blowing out a cloud of breath into the glowing, neon air.
You nodded again, like you understood, and he supposed you might. It seems like if anyone would understand the particularly crushing weight of circumstances you never asked for and a life you couldn’t escape, it would be you. A hero, standing in the harsh blue light of the city at night, keeping a criminal company while he steals and tries to smoke out the pain from his bones like bees from their hive—both of you knowing the ache will always return home.
From the corner of his eye, Jin watched you crouch on your heels. The next time he reached up to place the cigarette between his lips, he found your nose only inches from his own.
From this close he could see the texture of your skin, the ridges and dips of life in your cheeks. He felt his own grow warm under the harsh, unforgiving light as you leaned in and snatched the smoldering cig from his hand before placing it between your teeth.
Jin stared with wide eyes through the mesh of his mask, as you leaned in close enough for him to feel the heat emanating from your breath—still breathing. Because of him. Because he couldn’t do it.
He jolted as something heavy and cold was placed in his palm. The metal fit in his grasp and for a moment it seemed as though you’d placed a gun into his hand, soft fingers wrapping over his to tighten his hold on the grip before pulling away.
“I can’t,” Jin tried to whisper to you, pushing the weapon back towards your chest but you were already turning on your heel.
He stood frozen to the spot, cold in the darkness of winter and with none of the heat that followed your stare. In silence he watched as you sauntered off down the sidewalk, disappearing into the maze of buildings.
When he finally glanced down, in his palm sat one of the stolen cans of coffee.
His back hit the brick wall of the convenience store, brows knit together and feeling as though he ought to light up another cigarette. Instead, he cracked open the can and gulped the contents, the cool, acidic burn of it settled on his tongue.
Jin guessed that neither of you would get much sleep tonight.
---
The next time he saw you felt like years later.
Or maybe it was more appropriate to say it looked as though years had passed. Nothing had truly changed and it had only been a month at most since that short evening outside the convenience store.
But you seemed to have aged so much in such a short time. Eyes indescribably tired in a way that made Jin’s chest tight.
His breath caught as he tried to convince himself it was just the dim, flickering street light and alley haze that made you appear so insubstantial. That it was simply the eerie, ghost like manner that your figure had emerged from the low hanging steam that made him feel so unsettled.
Not that same, uncomfortably familiar smile. Not the way you turned to let him go, despite the blood on his hands.
“Wait!” he called, unsure when the word had formed and why he’d said anything at all.
He ought to be relieved it was you running into him after a mission gone wrong, any other hero and Jin would be in deep shit.
And then you did wait. You paused halfway through a step towards the brighter lights of the street, illuminated by the headlights of cars—the people inside a star's length away, lightyears between their world and the microcosm contained in the alley, Jin and you the only inhabitants.
“Hey there,” you said, like an old friend. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” he responded lamely, the hand he hadn’t noticed reaching out to you across the miles of sidewalk hovering awkwardly in the air.
He watched your brows knit together for just a moment, feet hesitating as though you may leave it at that. But that moment passed quickly, like a breath, like a scream. And Jin found he didn’t flinch when you took a step towards him, warm hand grasping his wrist.
“Let’s take a walk.”
You tugged lightly on his arm and Jin nearly toppled forward with a nod, trailing along behind you as you led him through a maze of side streets, away from the bustling traffic and his crime scene.
Your boots clacked against the cement stairs of the parking structure as you climbed them with Jin at your heels. He watched as you disappeared around a corner and when he clambered up onto the roof, you were stood leaning against the concrete ledge, eyes fixed on the street below.
Jin blinked like his eyes burned. When he breathed in, he tasted ash.
When he came to stand beside you there was an unlit cigarette perched between your fingers, filter first as an offering. Jin caught a sliver of your glance as he muttered a quiet ‘thank you,’ and took the little gift.
His lungs welcomed the familiar, sweet burn.
“I didn’t think you smoked,” he offered, not sure what else to say to break the quiet.
You chuckled beside him. “I don’t—it’s not fast enough.”
“Fast enough?”
The only answer you gave was a long stare and a wry smile.
Jin changed the subject.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been following me,” he brushed his shoulder against yours in what he hoped was a playful gesture. “What a stalker!”
It seemed to have the desired effect, you laughed beside him, light and airy.
“I think that's just the nature of the city. It’s impossible to be alone here even if you want to be,” you said and Jin nodded like he understood.
“Do you want to be?”
You turned to face him fully as he took another drag choking on the smoke when you spoke again.
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
Jin stared at that face, so tired. Better. Terrible.
“I don’t—Why didn’t you kill me?”
When you smiled this time, it was all teeth and bone.
“I think that’s a bit of a longer story.”
“I don’t have anything better to do,” he said, far too quickly, but Jin was an old hat when it came to embarrassment and his cheeks only tingled when you smiled at his eager response.
“No, I suppose you don’t,” you muttered, sinking to the ground with your back to the roof and staring up at the light polluted sky.
Jin shuffled down to your level.
“Do you know why people become heroes?” you asked softly, after a moment. Beside you, Jin shook his head, enamored by the timbre your voice had taken on—so much fuller than before. “Because they like to be right—like the success and the praise from always being justified. The desire in and of itself is perfectly human, but once you become a hero, everything you do is the right thing even if it’s wrong.”
“Are you always right?” Jin asked, not unkindly, but because he wanted to know.
You chuckled beside him.
“Whether I’m actually right is pretty inconsequential,” you move closer, hips shifting against the cement to press against his side in the chill. “Nothing will ever change—it’ll be me against you for eternity.”
“You’re doing a pretty piss poor job of it now,” he flinched as the words spilled out unbidden, but it only earned him a friendly elbow to the side.
His face felt warm under the mask when you laughed in your chest and let more of your weight rest on him. Your fingers brushed against his.
“We all are, really,” you sighed. “It’s our job to negate ourselves, and when have you ever known a person willing to fight for the loss of their own purpose?”
Jin didn’t know what to say to that, and so he didn’t say anything at all. Just slowly nudged his fingers against your palm until you let the warmth of it rest against his hand.
“So, to answer your question,” you murmured, tilting your head against the concrete wall and turning to stare at him. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah.”
Jin’s fingers twitched in under your hand and you shifted to twin yours in the gaps in his grip, squeezing in the ensuing silence.
“I owe you an apology, I think,” you whispered beside him, eyes trained back on the sky.
“Man, you really are a bad hero,” Jin quipped, hoping to hear that laugh from your gut but you stayed quiet instead, avoiding his gaze.
“Sometimes I think I must really be worse than the rest of them,” you spoke into the night wind. “I was willing to let you carry all that weight just to be free of it.”
“You’re the best of them I’ve ever met,” he said, thigh warm where you fitted your legs against him.
“You didn’t answer my question,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder.
Jin swallowed thickly.
“Why didn’t I kill you? I don’t know, probably because you weren’t going to kill me.”
“And isn’t that the real paradox?” you asked. “We’re all just hurting each other in defense of ourselves. But against what? And how did it start?”
“Where does it all end?” he threw back at you.
“I don’t know,” your answer echoed into the night while the two of you sat in a few more moments of city quiet while he gathered his courage and gripped your hand.
“Like this maybe,” Jin murmured, leaning down to brush his nose to yours, hesitating for a moment.
As always with you, the reasons for his actions were muddled and unclear, but felt like the thing to do. In the half dark parking garage, exposed in the cool air, it felt right to tilt his chin and savor the pull of his stubble on your cheek, the swell of your lips smoothing over his own.
Your cheek was cold in his palm, even through the gloves of his suit. So open, so exposed, Jin couldn’t tell if you no longer required the defense of cloth and metal or if you’d purposefully left your armor behind years ago. Too tired now to dodge the blows. Hoping one day they wouldn’t miss.
He hummed when you slotted your mouth more firmly against his, palm snaking up his forearm and squeezing. When you drew back, a thin string of silvery spit hung between your lips.
“I think I was expecting something a bit bloodier,” you chuckled, resting your forehead on his, pressing against the rough skin of his scar.
“I can do that,” he grunted, feeling the rush of his blood pooling low in his gut as he gripped your waist.
You landed softly in his lap, legs trained to move at a moment's notice easily fitting themselves on either side of him, your ass nestled against his thighs. There were not many words that followed after that. The cool night air had goosebumps erupting over the skin of your chest as Jin tugged at your shirt to bare more skin to him. He groaned when he finally got his mouth around the pebbling skin of your nipple and suckled there. Above him your hands hugged him closer and your hips shifted back and forth against his dick, slowly filling out under your weight.
He nipped at your chest, pulling back with a wet pop as you sighed and dipped down to press sloppy kisses along his jaw and suck his tongue into your mouth. All the while, two sets of clumsy hands pushed and pulled at the fabric between you, creating just enough space for his cock to spring free and slide along the sweet slick leaking from you.
The air caught in your throat as the tip nudged your clit and warmth began to build between your bodies, steam wafting away into the swiftly brightening sky.
This time, when he caught your eye, so close with your foreheads pressed together and sharing your breath, the smile you gave him was just as warm as the feeling of you slowly enveloping his length.
And Jin didn’t hesitate.
In a flurry of movement he rose up on his knees and had your back pressed flush with the cool concrete, ankles locked above the curve of his ass as his hips rolled and you buried your face in the crook of his neck.
You were tight around him, clamping down as he thrust into you at an even pace, the slap of your skin lost to the growing sounds of the city coming alive with the sun. And as he pushed you both towards your highs, Jin thought that right there, right then, he was right.
This is where it would end, whatever battle was being fought would start and end with two strangers on the roof of this desolate parking garage—shouldering a weight unimaginable, and choosing to live anyway.
And then you moaned in his ear, tugging him impossibly closer and rocking your hips up to meet each slam of his, any coherent thought concerning the grander morality of this years long conflict drowned in your gasps and praise and the softness of your skin on his own.
---
There was a small pile of ash growing at his feet when you finally rejoined him at the edge of the roof, clothed again though not nearly enough to ward off the early morning chill.
Jin slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close as he took another drag. He held the smoke deep in his lungs as he offered you the cigarette.
You shook your head again, but leaned in to press another kiss to his lips, smoke curling around your teeth.
“I told you I don’t smoke,” you mumbled between licks behind his teeth. “I’d rather go out with a bang, ya know?”
Jin nudged your cheek with his and turned his face back out towards the city skyline where the sun was gently rising over the sea of buildings.
“I love the sunrises here,” he said, casually, as though this was nothing more than a meeting between friends.
And really wasn’t that true? Jin smiled at the thought.
The two of you were quiet again as the morning grew brighter until you softly slipped out from his grasp.
“My shift’ll be ending soon,” you huffed by way of explanation and gathered the rest of your gear from the ground. “I gotta report back.”
“Hey,” Jin called after, panicked by the thought of suddenly being left with the sun and the ignorant crowds soon to be pouring onto the streets.
Never alone, even if you want to be.
“You have to make it back now,” he continued, catching your eye and for the second time, feeling unwavering resolve. “I want to see you again when it’s all over.”
You smiled again, that same one from before but with life behind it. And he thought that maybe that was what you’d looked like at the start. New and young and full of heroic will to fight.
He found he couldn’t wait to know what you’d look like when everything was said and done.
“I guess I’ll have to watch my back then,” you chuckled, turning your wrist to grip his forearm and nodding. “Watch yours too, okay?”
“I will,” he grinned and nodded, slipping his grip to your hand and shaking on the pact.
You tugged then with a strength he hadn’t expected, throwing him off balance and stumbling behind as you lept to the cement ledge.
“See then, Jin.”
He didn’t have the time to shout before you’d disappeared over the side. He scrambled forward, nearly throwing himself off after you, but the ground below was clear as he stared wide eyed. There was no sign to say you’d been here at all except for the burn in his thighs and the indents of your nails on his hand.
He took a deep breath, calming the rattle in his chest and fighting the urge to light another cigarette. As the sidewalks began to fill with commuters, Jin decided it was time that he slipped away as well. And as he walked he thought again that you really must be the best hero he’d ever met.
As much as he’d spent obsessing over for what unknowable reason he had spared your life, he hadn’t thought at all about the implications of you sparing him too.
Worse than the rest of them.
The words echoed in Jin’s head and he scoffed as he shuffled down the stairs to the street.
He shielded his eyes against the sun as he emerged into the crowd and made his way back towards the League’s hideout, confident in the knowledge that you were the best of them all.
And he would see you again, sometime on the other side.
