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Somebody was in his apartment, Sausage realized, his groceries still looped around his arm as he searched his pockets for his key. The colourful cat-patterned Washi tape was torn from where it usually connected the top of the door to the wall, and the dirt spilling from underneath the door let Sausage know that the potted plant just inside had been toppled.
Normally, Sausage could have suspected Bubbles of getting hyperactive while he was away, but she'd just been dropped off at her Auntie Shubble's house for a play-date with her dogs- and Sausage had only been gone for half an hour or so. He'd picked up groceries on the way from the corner store, some fresh fruit and snacks for the Bachelorette bingeing session he and Pearl had scheduled for the next day.
Somebody was in his apartment, and Sausage couldn't help but smile at the thought.
It had been a while since Smajor had kidnapped him, and Sausage had started getting worried.
Sausage wouldn't have blamed Smajor for choosing not to kidnap him again, their last kidnapping hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Solidarity's plan of putting a tracker on Sausage so that he could find Smajor's lair when he inevitably kidnapped Sausage again was almost an uncharacteristically smart one- and one that had led to a pretty intense fight.
Sausage still wasn't sure how Solidarity had managed to plant a tracker on him in the first place, he hadn't seen the man in days when Smajor had grabbed him- and although he'd racked his brain afterwards, Sausage couldn't remember interacting with any strangers that day. Besides Jimmy and Shubble, Sausage hadn't really interacted with anyone that day- work had been slow that day and Fwip and Gem had cancelled on their lunch plans.
But the damage had been done nevertheless, quite a lot of it in fact. That day's plans had placed Sausage in one of Smajor's lairs, and the Superheros who responded hadn't exactly been polite guests. The Wizard, Grimm, and Solidarity had all burst in at the same time, Grimm melting through the metal walls and Wizard moving the broken pieces out of their way. Smajor's lair had been dented and broken and destroyed in several places from the fight, not to mention its location revealed. Sausage wouldn't have been surprised if Smajor had determined that Sausage had turned out to be more of a hassle than he was worth.
He would have, however, been disappointed. He had grown to really enjoy his time as Smajor's "favourite hostage." What had started as an icy dagger held to his throat as he was walked backwards into an elevator had morphed into being sat in Smajor's lap as they waited for Solidarity to arrive, a single wrist loosely shackled and his hair being gently pet. (Or, on one memorable occasion, being tied to a chair at a very fancy restaurant that Smajor's crew had been robbing the basement of. (Sausage had to assume the restaurant was a front for something, but what it was he couldn't guess. Smajor hadn't volunteered the information, and Sausage didn't care enough to ask.) Smajor had spent most of his time upstairs with Sausage, delicately hand feeding him rich puddings and cake while his henchmen did the more menial work, weapon laid lazily on the table as he barely even pretended that Sausage was in any danger from him.
For some strange reason, Smajor seemed to like Sausage. From their very first meeting when Sausage's panicked babbling had made the man laugh, Smajor had been strangely gentle with him. Going out of his way to make sure Sausage was comfortable, to use him as a hostage whenever possible, to flirt with him in a way he usually only did with his enemies. But Scott never fought Sausage (not that Sausage had been putting up much of a fight recently), had been patient and kind to Sausage in a way that seemed uncharacteristic for a supervillain.
For some even stranger reason, Sausage liked Smajor too. The villain was smart, confident, charismatic, funny and -even though the mask- very very pretty. Not to mention that he treated Sausage like he was something precious, which wasn't an experience Sausage had ever had before. Sure, his siblings and Pearl all loved his, and Jimmy and Shelby were his friends, but they all usually treated him with a certain amount of…levity.
Being treasured was something Sausage was new to, and easily flustered by. He would have been lying if he had said that he hadn't been counting the days until he was snatched away by a certain teal- haired villain.
Still, it was his natural instinct to be a little panicked when he felt a hand or knife against his throat without any warning, even after his kidnappings had overall become more expected than surprising. So Sausage had started setting up some "traps" in his apartment to let him know if Smajor was waiting for him there.
Nothing serious or dangerous, and nothing that Sausage thought Smajor didn't notice. Smajor was smart, Sausage had realized early on, and very particular to the details. Sausage had no disillusions that Smajor was not acutely aware of his "booby traps." But more often than not, he set them off anyway, he was considerate like that.
Honestly, Sausage was starting too wonder if every supervillain was as considerate as Smajor was.
Sausage's left arm had experienced a rather energetic collision with a brick wall at age 11, resulting in Sausage both becoming ambidextrous and having a permanently sensitive arm. It struggled to support the weight of anything heavier than a microwave or two, (He and Fwip had tested this one night with enough alcohol in their systems to make microwaves seem the most obvious choice of measurement) and threw a fit whenever a storm rolled through or a room was too cold. Smajor had only ever grabbed him by it once, immediately correcting himself with soft and apologetic hands when Sausage winced. His left arm was yet to be tied in a way that even remotely strained it ever since, and Smajor and his henchmen had been exceedingly courteous in leading him by his right arm only.
So yeah, Smajor was considerate, even when it meant ripping obnoxiously loud tape or pretending not to notice the yarn he displaced when he opened a door. Torn Washi tape on his door, plastic cups left on the edge of counters fallen to the floor, floss taped across hallways being disturbed or broken- all were little indicators to Sausage that his masked friend(?) would be waiting for him inside.
Smajor wouldn't usually go so far as to knock over a plant, but maybe it was his attempt to be extra obvious after so much time apart.
Sausage made sure to "struggle" with his keys unnecessarily loudly before throwing open the door with even more gusto than usual. He hummed loudly as he entered, sidestepping and then righting the spilled plant. He set his groceries on the floor, probably coating the bottom of his bright yellow fabric bag with dirt and fertilizer.
"You okay there Carlos?" He crouched down to inspect said plant, fingers gently petting the leaves as he righted the hand-painted pot. He scooped some of the dirt off the floor and back into the pot, trying his best reestablish support for Carlos's roots system.
"I'll get you some more water before I head into work." Sausage continued, ignoring the flash movement he saw in his peripheral. "you're looking a little thirsty there."
A familiar series of events unfolded in quick succession, quick enough that Sausage doubted that he would have been able to process without his numerous previous experiences.
Someone's foot caught one of Bubble's toys, the small bell inside jingling warmly. A voice, presumably that of the one who'd kicked the toy, swore under their breath. Sausage bit back a fond smile at the antics of the either one of the mischievous, familiar henchmen, or the stumblings of an inexperienced new hire.
A hand yanked his head back by his hair,
A new hire then, Sausage decided, the overenthusiastic nature of the pull could easily be the physical manifestation of first-kidnapping nerves, which- if his conversations with Smajor's other henchmen were anything to go by- could be "pretty damn potent."
A cloth was held against his mouth and nose, a strong chemical smell cottoning his brain almost immediately. He noted with interest as instinctual panic filled him even as his brain remained calm and still somewhat amused. His legs lost feeling beneath him, and then gave out as his body pitched backwards. The body beneath him caught him easily, and Sausage had only just enough brainpower to be impressed by the fact before his eyes rolled more or less into his skull and a restless kind of sleep claimed him.
When Sausage regained consciousness, it was to the telltale ache in his head that let him know that there was a decent amount of chloroform in his system. Sausage wouldn't say that he disliked chloroform particularly more than average. He doubted that there were many, if any, people in the world who enjoyed the experience- but he had gotten used to the luxury of not having to deal with the aftereffects.
Smajor had only ever used chloroform on him a few times, early on in their… relationship(?). But Sausage had never been the best actor, and Smajor had always been eerily observant.
Smajor's hand was soft on his cheek as it tilted Sausages's head up, guiding him to meet his eyes from where he was sat in the spinny chair of some bank executive who had been, by Sausage's understanding, skimming a bit off the top of his employee's bonuses and the bank's clients accounts. Scott had gone into more detail, but Sausage would have struggled to follow his technical jargon on a good day, with his brain fogged by the aftereffects of the chloroform he didn't have a snowman's chance in hell of understanding anything beyond the basics.
He'd been largely passing the time by zoning out to the sound of Smajor's pleased monologue, picking absentmindedly at the cuff attaching his right wrist to the chair. His legs and left arm were left unrestrained, a casual showing of trust that still confused as much as it delighted him.
His nonexistent internal monologue had been cut off by Smajor's touch.
"Somethings wrong." Smajor hadn't bothered to phrase it as a question, his voice steady and deceptively cold. A slight threat was bleeding into his voice, something that Sausage attributed to habit far more than actual danger. Sausage had long since accepted, even if he couldn't understand why, that Smajor would never hurt him.
Still, Sausage had long since made a habit of burying his hurts, discomforts, and complaints deep within him. His tongue had always been far too eager, far too clumsy, and never silver enough to make his words, no matter how kind, seem much less than abrasive.
He'd lost a fair amount of friends over it, and had received even more punches for it. He was embarrassing, loud, and utterly incapable of chewing his words before he released them.
So he did the next best thing he could manage, he dismissed certain thoughts and worries before they could develop. He swallowed down as much of his natural unpleasantness as he could, and took a job as a sanitation worker at an aquarium. Where his interactions with his coworkers were brief and infrequent unless they sought him out, and his unusually thorough knowledge of blood of different types, how to deal with its stains quickly and hygienically -the products of a particularly devout hyperfixation-was a strength instead of a flaw.
His toungue and heart were both long scarred by his teeth holding them back, where they couldn't hurt or upset the people around him.
So, with a tilt of the head and a faux confused dart of the eyes,
"There is?"
Smajor's hand traveled to rub at the tension between Sausage's eyebrows, clearly not fooled.
"You're in pain." Smajor said softly.
"I'm fine." Sausage protested.
"You haven't spun in the chair once," Smajor said, clearly unimpressed "And you clearly haven't been listening to me."
"I'm sorry-" Sausage started off reflexively, Smajor cutting him off.
"-The only thing you have to be sorry about is not telling me that you were hurting."
"It's nothing," Sausage was quick to try and reassure, "Just a bit of a headache and nausea from the chloroform- I'll be fine in a few hours, and I really don't mind."
Smajor's lips had formed a thin line, his hand, which was already cooler than the average human's -perks of ice powers Sausage supposed- grew just a bit cooler, fingers spreading to cover Sausage's forehead as if he were sick.
"Thank you for telling me."
Sausage really didn't understand why Smajor would thank him for complaining about something so asinine- but that was of course the moment that the door went flying. The superheros Solidarity and Grimm followed it in, Grimm tackling the henchwoman guarding the door in a smooth movement, sending them both to the floor.
"Surrender Smajor!"Solidarity shouted, his scaled mask glinting in the artificial light. "You're outnumbered!"
Smajor rolled his eyes, withdrawing his hand from Sausage's forehead with a scoff.
"As if that matters. How do you know I couldn't take your entire little superhero club at once if I wanted?"
Solidarity bristled, "What are you talking about? The League would easily win that fight!"
Smajor grinned, his teeth unnaturally white and undeniably predatory.
"Oh, I didn't mean in a fight."
What little skin was visible underneath the Solidarity's mask turned a satisfying red, and Smajor walked to stand behind Sausage, looping his arms around Sausage's neck with a loose casualness.
Grimm crashed into the desk in front of them, the taller henchwoman having summoned a sheet of sand above him as she shoved him back. Grimm's hands flew up to shield his face, and the sand that fell onto them melted into a gnarly glass, more or less incasing his hands. Some sand fell off the desk and onto Sausage's shoes, but the undeniably ecstatic cheer the henchwoman gave at her successful attack more than made up for it. With quick reflexes that both flustered and undeniably impressed Sausage, Smajor pulled Sausage away from the dangerously creaking wooden desk and froze Grimm's glass encased hands to the desk.
The fight had begun in earnest after that, Smajor pressing a flirtatious kiss to Sausage's cheek and then promising both of the superheros one as well before turning the ground beneath them into sheets of ice.
But next time Sausage was knocked out for a kidnapping, about a month later, he had woken up without any of the dizziness or nausea that usually accompanied the experience. Sausage wasn't sure what Scott had replaced the chloroform with- whatever new substance he used functioned suspiciously similarly- but he appreciated the accommodation all the same.
If Smajor was back to chloroforming him, Sausage must have really upset him with the tracker incident.
The scratchy ropes that tied his wrists together behind his back, as well as the cold, hard ground pressing against his cheek, also supported that theory.
But then again, if Smajor was kidnapping him again, then he must have forgiven him in some capacity.
Sausage groaned into the ground, eyes fluttering open just long enough to see a stripe of chipped white paint beneath him. He rolled onto his back with a stilted, somewhat pained movement as his joints popped and stretched.
"Oh, you're awake." An electronic sounding voice Sausage cut into his pondering. With no little amount of effort, Sausage blinked his eyes open to a flat concrete ceiling. A mystery hand scuffed him by the neck like a kitten, hauling him into a sitting position.
The coldness of the ground and the white paint made more sense now, as the blurriness of his eyes cleared to reveal the inside of an indoor parking lot. There wasn't much light, a scattering of florescent lights at various stages of broken providing what little protection against the darkness that they could.
Remembering the situation, Sausage finally raised his gaze to search for the owner of the mystery voice.
His eyes met the gaze of his captor, and Sausage felt whatever nausea had receded from his stretching immediately return.
Smajor was almost always there when he woke up, to the point where Sausage had begun to suspect that he made a conscious effort to do so. And when he wasn't, Smajor always stationed a familiar face (or rather, mask) amongst his guards. More often than not it was The Sandwitch. Or SouperStar if TimeMaster was involved, both of them friendly enough to make conversation with until Smajor or a Superhero showed up.
But this woman was entirely unfamiliar to him, and his outfit didn't look at all similar to Smajor's henchman uniform.
Her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, crackling and sparking with electricity. Her mask covered her mouth completely, the black ridges glinting a deep red when the light hit it. It spread to cover most of her face, dark tendrils crawling up her cheeks and twisting into her hair.
Her armour piece, stylized to look like a biker vest, had cuts of red gems scattered across it, matching the unnatural hue of her eyes. Her large combat boots added a solid inch and a half to her height, and Sausage was convinced that they had to be custom with how intricate the detailing on the sides were.
To her credit, Sausage had to admit she looked awesome.
"....Hi?" Sausage tried hesitantly.
Sausage was stuck between hoping that she worked for Smajor and this was just a small detour from the usual, and that this was all just a big misunderstanding.
Because if this was Smajor, he must have been really, really upset with Sausage- because there was no way somebody as smart as him wouldn't know that this would scare him.
But if this wasn't Smajor, then that meant that this was the independent work of another villain. Which would still mean that Smajor hadn't kidnapped him, so he was probably still mad at Sausage anyway. Plus, besides Smajor, Sausage couldn't think of a single other villain he'd run into who wasn't working with Smajor. A supervillain putting this much effort into kidnapping a random guy from his apartment seemed laughably unlikely. Sausage wasn't rich, powered, or particularly interesting. The fact that Smajor had any interest in Sausage at all was an anomaly by itself- him attracting the attention of two powered and powerful people was practically unthinkable.
Sausage, in a rather characteristic move he thought, had no clue what the hell was going on.
Either way though, he hoped that the woman would untie him now that he was awake, his bad arm was already sore from the awkward angle, and he'd apparently all but rubbed his wrists raw in his sleep.
"I have to say," he started awkwardly, "this isn't how I thought my day would go."
The mask lit up in portions to make the shape of a smile as she tilted her head, eyes a little too bright and smile a bit too big to be innocent amusement.
"No, I wouldn't think it would be." Her voice crackled and reverberated in a way that sounded distinctly unnatural and more than a little intimidating. Sausage had to wonder if her mask was hiding a voicemodifier.
She shifted her weight, taking a few heady steps towards Sausage, revealing the red undersides of her boots- the red perfectly matching her eyes. Sausage belatedly noticed the heavy looking rod in her hand, and had to swallow down a nervous quip.
"Will Smajor be here soon?" He tried, "I'd love to get these roped off soon."
Her smile seemed to grow even wider, and Sausage had to shiver as the chill of the room overcame the warmth of his thin T-shirt.
"Don't worry, I doubt the ropes will be necessary for much longer."
Okay, Sausage had to hand it to her, she was very skilled in giving vague and cryptic answers. She really had the whole, 'intimidating supervillain" shtick down. Four stars for the villainous atmosphere, five stars for the voice effects, five more for the scripts. '9/10 kidnapping experience would recommend' and all that.
"And Smajor?" He couldn't help but ask hopefully.
"Oh," she started, all smugness and fake pity, "he went be joining us tonight. He has no clue you're even here. Although I'm sure my boss will fill him in eventually.'
Ah.
Shit.
"You have a boss? That's nice." Sausage heard himself say, because he was never one to keep quiet even when he probably most definitely should.
"I mean, unemployment is always hard. But then again, you never know! Sometimes you'll get a job and the boss will stink and not give you insurance or benefits- and that is just such a bummer ya' know?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before,
"Do they at least give you dental? Or do you have to pay for that out of pocket. Sucks if you do, that's part of why I quit my last job. But my new job is better. Do you like your job? I like my job-"
He was rambling, he knew he was rambling- but in his defense, he was nervous! He'd never been kidnapped by someone who wasn't Smajor before- and he'd gotten the impression that Smajor's treatment of him was not commonplace for a hostage or kidnappee.
But, small victories, his captor's self assuredness had slipped for a moment, replaced by an off-put bewilderment.
"What?"
Sausage couldn't tell if her voice was more surprised or angry, but not being able to read social cues had never stopped him before- and his already lackluster self-preservation instincts had probably not been improved by the normalization of being kidnapped and held hostage by a supervillain.
"Well, I would think that dental would be pretty important in your line of work. I mean, what if you got punched and lost a tooth? That seems like a workplace hazard that your employer should cov-"
Sausage's voice cut off, and it took him a moment to connect the dots between his turned head and stinging cheek.
"Shut. Up." Her voice hissed dangerously, the electricity in her hair crackling and the white light of her faux mouth glitching.
Whatever scraps of self-preservation that Sausage had left sharply closed Sausage's mouth, the "click" of his teeth sounding much louder than it should have.
She waited a moment, probably seeing if he would actually follow her order. When he stayed silent, wide eyes meeting hers with a craned neck, she turned sharply on her heel and began to make her way across the floor.
"Thank you." She muttered.
"You're welcome!" Sausage responded cheerfully, reflexes kicking in before his brain could.
Well,
His self-preservation had tried, at least. But it was out of its wheelhouse to;
A. Keep his damn mouth shut, and
B. Recognize sarcasm when he heard it and before he opened said mouth to respond.
She whirled around, ponytail swinging to hit the side of her face and sending tiny lightning bolts across her mask.
Sausage couldn't help the full bodied flinch he gave when she took her first step forward.
Her hand landed back in his hair, rougher than it had been before and far rougher than Smajor's ever had been. It yanked him backwards, and without his arms to steady him Sausage careened backwards into the floor. His head bounced dully against the ground and his hands scraped uselessly across the rough surface.
His head, which had already been struggling to recover from his chloroform induced hangover, protested painfully at the sudden collision, and any thoughts of trying to drag himself back up into a sitting position were further dismissed by a boot colliding non too gently with his chest. The boots were cleated- or similarly sharpened- if the nubs digging in between his ribs were any indication. His wrists popped underneath him, and he couldn't help the aborted half-whine, half-exhale that escaped him when she laughed and shifted more of her weight onto his chest.
"Holy shit," she said delightedly, her annoyance apparently forgotten, "I forgot how fucking soft you non-powered people are." She lifted her foot from Sausage's chest, ignoring his resulting gasps and she continued.
"Usually I get stuck with those macho-shit for brains, powers-for-days superhero idiots." She rolled her eyes, "They're always so determined to keep their composure- have to get real creative to get anything outta them." She moved her foot to rest lightly on Sausage's shoulder, the bad one of course, because why wouldn't it be, apparently enjoying the way he tensed beneath her, freezing despite himself at the clear threat.
Her mouth was covered by her mask, but Sausage couldn't shake the distinct impression that she was smiling.
"But with you-" She pressed her foot down, and Sausage had to wonder if the popping, cracking sound of his shoulder being forced out of place was as loud to her as it seemed to him- or if it was drowned out by the loud, whimpering shout he gave at the sudden pain.
"-you're already crying and I've barely touched you."
That, Sausage thought a little defensively, was an exaggeration. His eyes were a little watery, sure- but his cheeks were still perfectly dry, thank you very much.
"My Boss gave me a few hours to soften you up- but I doubt I'll need fifteen minutes to get you telling me whatever I want." Her smile glitched again as she leaned further down. "Not that that'll stop me."
She finally, finally stepped off his shoulder, and Sausage gave a pleading, thoroughly incomprehensible gasp of wordmush.
She seemed to get the point though, and cooed mockingly as sparks of electricity traveled up and down her body and rod.
"Oh, don't worry- I wouldn't want the fun to be over too quickly, and I get the feeling that my lightning would be too much for you even at my softest blow." She laughed- not that Sausage recognized the sound at first. It was horribly distorted, echoing and cracking in just the wrong ways.
"But don't worry." She tossed the rod over her shoulder, ignoring Sausage's resulting flinch. "I know plenty of other ways we can have fun together."
Sausage had the distinct, creeping feeling that her words wouldn't be an exaggeration for much longer.
In as long as Jimmy had known Sausage, which was coming up on four years at this point, Sausage had only ever missed work without letting Jimmy know beforehand a handful of times- with all but one of them being due to Smajor related chaos.
(Not that Jimmy was supposed to know about that- Sausage had only told him about his kidnapping outings two, maybe three times. Solidarity, one the other hand, was well acquainted with the sight of his crush friend coworker at the side or feet of the cyanette supervillain.)
When he hadn't seen Sausage by the time his first tour of the day started, he wasn't too worried. The aquarium was huge, long since having expanded its exhibits to include more animals than just fish. No doubt Sausage was just busy cleaning up a mess outside of the aquatic section. Still, he kept an eye out for the main as he lead his first, second, and then third group through his section- pointing out his favourite fish and fun facts as he went.
He did, however, start to get concerned when Sausage didn't show up for their usual lunchtime rendezvous.
There was a small rounded alcove in one of the exhibits, made to give guests a more close up experience as fish swam across and near the glass.
Jimmy's lunch-break was before Sausage's- but the walls and ceiling of the alcove got dirty ridiculously quickly, small and sticky hands and faces pressing up against the glass frequently- meaning that Sausage was quick to take advantage of the thirty minutes a day that the section was more or less abandoned in favour of the penguin feeding across the building.
So for twenty minutes of their day, Jimmy would sit, sandwich in hand, with his back against the glass as Sausage sprayed some sort of nontoxic cleaner onto the glass and scrubbed at the hardened candy that the cleaner alone couldn't handle.
At the start of their- at the time- accidental meetings- Jimmy hadn't quite known what to make of him. In a desperate attempt to break the horribly awkward atmosphere that came with two strangers continuously sharing a small space, he had begun to point out the different fish. A note about how the ridges on the tail of the passing stingray were larger than average, a fun fact about the camouflage abilities of the tiny fish attempting to charge the glass.
Sausage, with an enthusiasm that Jimmy would only later learn was an integral part of his personality and not a sarcastic response, had taken each of Jimmy's comments to heart. He had, days after the fact, point out the specific cod that Jimmy had commented on the colour of- would reveal the name that he'd apparently chosen for that specific fish (Charlie, in that case) when Jimmy had first pointed it out.
From there, their conversations had grown longer and more frequent. Jimmy began to bring extra chips in his lunch without thinking about it- and Sausage got into the habit of picking up Jimmy's favourite juice from the vending machines before they ran out.
Before he knew it, Jimmy was having in depth debates with Sausage about the drama going on in the fish tank (Alexa, one of the clownfish, had been going through a bit of a territorial phase- and Sausage was absolutely distraught that Sammy the Epaulette Shark could no longer make his usual rounds around the tank.), cooing over the groups of small children that were always Jimmy's favourite, and joint complaining about the new manager of the section.
It was one of Jimmy's favourite parts of the day. More often than not his lunch break would be filled with near constant conversation- the two of them switching between conversations at the (sometimes literal) drop of a hat. Almost all of the fish in the tank were named by now, and Jimmy had to wonder if Sausage could actually tell all the fish apart or if he was just guessing. Because while a decent chunk of Jimmy's degree and then job involved identifying different species of aquatic animals, not even he could reliably identify specific fish outside of a small group (Alexa was easily identified with a quick check to see which fish in the tank was causing the most mischief. 9/10 times, it was her).
Even on the days when one or both of them weren't in the mood for or didn't have the energy for talking, the alcove served as a sanctuary for the two of them. Jimmy could lean his head against the glass, listening the nonsensical humming and mumbling of his coworker, watching as the water-filtered light rippled across his face as he worked.
In as long as Jimmy had known Sausage, Sausage had only ever missed work without letting Jimmy know beforehand a handful of times- but Jimmy had never heard of him ever missing a Bubbles pickup. And yet- a check of his phone during his patrol shift at the end of the day showed three unread text messages from Shelby. He pulled out his tracker pad from his pocket as he scrolled through the messages, a sinking feeling already starting to make its home in his stomach.
Squad(aff)+Jim(derog)
Mushroom Gal: Hey Jim, is Sausage staying late today?
Mushroom Gal: He was supposed to pick up Bubbles an hour ago.
Mushroom Gal: I don't mind the extra time with her but Sausage hasn't responded to any of my texts.
Jimboy: No, I don't think so?
Jimboy: He didn't show up for lunch today, I thought that he'd stayed home sick
Pearl? Have u heard from him? : Jimboy
Thor: Not since this morning- he got me cookies for our binge tmmrw ✊
Thor: U think he got picked up for a date w/ that Smajor dude?
Jimboy: They're not dates, they're kidnappings.
Thor: I mean...technically
Pearl's poor phrasing aside, Jimmy had to conclude that Smajor had something to do with Sausage's disappearance. So although he would admit that he may have been startled by Smajor's sudden appearance beside him on the building's roof, he was not surprised or scared.
Of course, based on the small smirk Smajor made at his jump, he didn't seem to share that opinion.
Weirdly, he didn't seem eager to linger on that fact.
"I need your tracker." Smajor stated flatly.
"What tracker?" Jimmy played dumb, trying to avoid the weight of the electronic in his pocket that he'd been looking at only minutes before. "And what makes you think I would give anything to you except a prison sentence?"
Smajor didn't seem amused.
"The tracker you have on Sausage." He said with narrowed eyes, "And the fact that I can and will maim you for it."
"Maim?" Jimmy couldn't help but ask, "Not kill? You must be fond of me."
"A bit." Smajor admitted, with none of the flirtatious banter that usually dominated his interactions with him. "But it's more that I don't think it would be necessary to kill you in order to get it from you- and I don't have the time to play fight with you."
"Playfight?!" Jimmy cut himself off before he could get too riled up- he had more important things to be upset about. "And why do you need it anyway? If you already have him what good would the map do?"
Smajor made a growling-like sound that Jimmy wouldn't have previously thought was humanly possible, his frustration clear as his shoulders tensed.
"None," He spit out the word like it was bitter in his mouth, "It wouldn't do me any good."
"Then why-"
"Because I don't already have him." Smajor hissed, "Obviously."
Oh shit.
Jimmy had a very, very bad feeling about this.
Scott hated everything about this situation.
Sausage was missing, kidnapped if his sources were to be trusted. Which, in general, he did. Lauren- while distractable and inefficient at times- was one of the most loyal people Scott had every worked with, one of the few that he genuinely believed would die before willingly betraying or even misleading him. So when she had reported that Sausage's apartment had been broken into and the man himself unaccounted for- Scott was inclined to believe her.
Add to that Timemaster sharing that her own henchmen had reported some trespassing on the edges of her terf, Scott was practically fuming in both worry and a deep, possessive rage.
Not only was Sausage missing, he was more than likely in the hands of another supervillain, which was a threat to Sausage's safety and a blatant insult to Smajor's claim on him. Which made whomever kidnapped him either extremely brave or extremely stupid. Either way, Scott was not in the mood to let them live any longer than was necessary.
Of course, in his typical idiotic fashion, Solidarity had refused to give up the tracker, and Smajor hadn't the time to fight him for it or to wait to follow him. Meaning that Smajor and Solidarity were now stuck in an awkward, temporary truce.
Smajor liked Solidarity, he did. The guy was energetic, fun to mess with, and at times half-way competent. But he was also horrendously annoying and unsubtle. Honestly, Smajor didn't think that there'd been a single fight between the two of them where Solidarity hadn't tried to give a speech on honor and justice, or a time that he had ever taken advantage of Smajor's extremely generous banter and played along. The Blue Axolotl, at least, while far more of a threat 1v1, had an appreciation for some good vocal sparring.
Smajor really, really wished that Lauren was available for proper fieldwork. Even if she wouldn't have been extraordinarily helpful in the inevitable fight, Smajor could always depend on her to follow his orders to the best of her abilities, or at least cause a decent distraction with her attempts.
Solidarity, on the other hand, was a loose cannon in that regard. He was stubborn and impulsive at the best of times, not to mention prideful. And while those aspects made Solidarity a fun opponent, one easy to rile up and fun to mess with- it made him a flawed partner for this mission in the first place, where care and stealth would likely be necessary attributes.
Smajor would admit (in extrenuating circumstances), could be a strength of Solidarity's at times. Because his powers were far more influenced by emotion- his fluxuating power level made him hard to strategize around. Plus, his tendency to think on his feet, often acting on what had to be half-baked plans mid battle- gave Smajor all the more opportunities to quip and improvise.
Still, between the two of them, Smajor was unarguably the most powerful. There was a reason why Solidarity was never sent after Smajor on his own, was always accompanied by another superhero to keep them from getting their asses entirely kicked by Smajor. With the exceptions of the Wizard and Blue Axolotl, Smajor could take most of the league without much trouble in a 1v1. While his fights with Solidarity were fun, they weren't a real challenge to his wits or his strength, and especially now when he wasn't sure who he was going to be up against, Scott needed anyone who was to accompany him to be competent enough not to get in the way.
"This is it," Solidarity started, "Or at least where his tracker is."
The, apparently long abandoned apartment complex stood near the edge of Timemaster's territory, its washed out walls splattered with graffiti and rot. Smajor had to question the experience of Sausage's kidnapper. While basement parking lot provided visual shelter from the streets and the rare passerbys, concrete wasn't nearly as sound proof as it was made out to be- and even from the rooftop across the street Smajor could hear a faint thudding noise too irregular to be a tool or loose pipe.
An arm flew against his chest, and Smajor stumbled back, apparently having moved forward without much conscious thought.
"We need a plan." Solidarity said, voice half panicked and far more concerned that Smajor would have expected.
"I have one," Smajor growled.
"Great." Solidarity said, sounding unenthused. "Care to fill me in?"
"Find Sausage, save him, kill whomever captured him." Smajor stepped forward again, hand half raised to build him a quiet descent. This time, Solidarity's gloved hand grabbed the back of his suit, near the neck. The fabric was too smooth for him to hold a proper grip- just how the fabric had been designed to function- but his determined yank was enough to pull Smajor back solidly onto the roof. Smajor rolled with the movement, extended hand forming and curling around an icy dagger as the other froze the ground beneath Solidarity's feet, sending his already unbalanced body to the ground. In the time it took for Solidarity to shout his surprised dissent, Smajor was on top of him, ice to his throat and Solidarity's hands pinned beneath him.
"Jesus Christ, Smajor what the hell-"
"Don't-" Smajor hissed, "-try to stop me."
"Well it's not like we can just- march right in without a plan!" Solidarity sputtered. "And you clearly weren't listening to reason!"
"Reason?" Smajor echoed, "Coming from the guy who once tried to lock a villian with ice powers in a freezer and thought that would work to contain me?" The blush was back, reds and pinks that Smajor wished he had the time to admire spreading across what was visible of the man's face.
"I was new and I panicked." Solidarity protested, "And just because you're smarter than I am doesn't mean I don't think- I improvise and you plan. So think now and come up with a goddamn plan."
Smajor narrowed his eyes, suspicion at the sudden compliment licking its way up his throat like flames. "It's not like you to try and make a plan before jumping headfirst into battle."
"And it's not like you to jump headfirst into battle without a proper plan!" Solidarity fired back, both of them all too aware of the singular factor that was making both of their usual techniques seem unthinkable.
"Fine." Smajor gritted out, sitting back up but not yet releasing the superhero beneath him. "But you don't get in my way- and you follow my orders. I don't want you messing this up because of any ridiculous moral objections you have."
"I won't kill anyone." Solidarity met his gaze, "And Sausage doesn't get hurt."
"Of course he doesn't." Smajor assured, ignoring the twisting in his gut that told him that it was far too late to promise that reality, "And don't worry, I wasn't planning on letting you be the one to kill them.
Sausage had never liked the dark before, something about the way the shadows seemed to move across the floor and how his mind would see figures behind closet doors and in chairs had always offset him. He'd been scared of it as a kid, and embarrassed about that fact as a teenager. But adulthood had helped him wisen up a little. Not a lot- but enough for him to realize that as a goddamn adult- it was his decision how he spent his money. And if how he spent his money was buying an intricate Winnie-the-Pooh themed nightlight from Walmart one Thursday night while he was stealing paint colour samples- then that was nobody's business but his own.
But now, he couldn't for the life of him understand why he hadn't liked the dark. After all, it was dark now, and the blacks and greys mottled together and dancing in front of his eyes were a delightful distraction from the annoying ringing in his ears.
He was just coherent enough to understand that he wasn't entirely coherent- which was both a concerning and annoying state to be in. He knew something was wrong, that the odd, sticky substance on his arm was proof of that. But he couldn't remember why, or how, and whenever he tried to remember it, all he would get was flashes of bright light and an overwhelming feeling of lingering pain.
No, the dark was better, softer and kinder. He didn't need the light with its loud noise and aching limbs.
"-age, Sausage? Can you hear me?" A panicked voice rang out into the darkness, bringing with it flashes of light and pain.
A hand appeared on his cheek, far softer than it's predecessor had been, and Sausage whined as his original urge to turn away was quickly tamed by the alien warmth spreading from where it touched him. He hadn't realized he was cold before, but now he could feel the way his body shook against the…floor? Ah, yes, he was on the floor.
"-ausage? You've gotta stay with me buddy."
Ugh- he didn't want to follow the voice. It was so nice here in the dark, even with the obnoxious ringing in his ears.
"Sausage- come on, please. You're scaring me." The voice did sound distressed, and familiar as well. Even muffled, Sausage could recognize the cadence of it, the sound bringing to mind the slight burn of cleaning solution and salt.
The sight of light filtered through water, falling across a handsome face as it turned away, warm laughter and bubbling, filtering water providing a warm backdrop to twin smiles.. Soft, golden hair splaying across Sausage's shoulder and a warm weight leveled against his side.
"Jimmy?" The word came out much more slurred than he expected. His lips felt disconnected from him, numb and not quite corporeal. The darkness surrounding him was starting to recede slightly, blacks fading to dark greys and the pain in his limbs coming more into focus.
"W-who's Jimmy?" Sausage blinked open his eyes and- oh, his eyes had been closed. The darkness made much more sense now.
There was a Solidarity-shaped blur looming over him, and even as his mouth twisted at the sudden influx of stimulus, his shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight.
"He'th my friend." He responded, "Like you." He gave a nasally exhale through his nose in a facsimile of a laugh, leaning further into the hand on his cheek. "You're warm."
Solidarity's face moved weirdly and- oh, he was smiling. That was nice. Solidarity was nice. Sausage was glad he was here.
It was a weird smile though, tight and worried looking. Oh well, that was okay. Sausage was weird too.
"And you're ridiculously cold. Honestly- what was she thinking?!" Solidarity scoffed, and suddenly his hand was retreating. Sausage whined, and his eyes got blurrier at the lack of warmth and comfort. Goodness, his head was pounding, and his arm hurt. And now Solidarity was leaving him alone?!
Solidarity shushed him,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I'm right here. It's okay." His hands returned, this time to Sausage's shoulder and hip, and that was nice, Sausage liked that. However, the hands them almost immediately starting pulling him upward into a sitting position. Sausage did not like that.
"Noooo. Ith hurtsss!" He protested as his voice faded into a hiss, weakly trying to pull himself away. Solidarity easily managed to pull Sausage up despite his resistance, pulling him to rest against something warm.
Okay, if Solidarity would leave him alone now and let him snuggle against this warm thing, Sausage could be cool with that (ha). He turned his body as far as he could into the warmth, ignoring the protesting of his limbs, head, and side. The warm thing moved rhythmically underneath him, and it took Sausage longer than it should have to recognize that the thing he was leaning up against was a body. Solidarity's body, assumedly.
Solidarity was warm, which was unusual considering that the superhero was (to Sausage's understanding) somewhat cold blooded. Not that Sausage was complaining. Not even close.
He would complain, though, about the bitter and uncomfortably big pills that Solidarity began prodding at his lips. Sausage whined as he did his best to burrow into the warm chest he was resting against.
"I know, they're gross, I'm sorry I know- when Li- Axolotl first started giving me these after fights I was sure she was trying to poison me." Solidarity gave a half-chuckle that sounded far more like a whimper. "But I don't know how long you'll be in shock and I need to fix your arm- these will just help make sure it doesn't hurt as much. " Sausage grumbled, but didn't try to pull away again when Solidarity tipped his head back and pressed a pill to his lips. Sausage could have sworn that Solidarity wore gloves, but Sausage could feel his nail as it slightly caught on the torn skin of his bottom lip, and when Solidarity came back with the second pill, Sausage squinted his eyes and could make out the red smeared across Solidarity's knuckles and within the grooves of his fingertips.
A shriek rang out across the room, and Sausage startled despite himself, pain shooting up his arms as he attempted and failed to prop himself up to face the sound.
"Er- no let's not do that, nothing to see there." Solidarity pulled Sausage back down, turning his body so that he was more or less cradling Sausage- effectively blocking his view of whatever was going on just a few feet away.
"But-" Solidarity cut him off.
"Nope, no no no. Smajor and I agreed that she be pulled away from you before he started for a reason." Sausage exhaled loudly, lips too sticky with blood for the desired effect, but Sausage was sure that the intent was communicated. Still, he relaxed into Solidarity's hold, a new, tingling numbness that was much more pleasant than the old one weighing down his limbs. Solidarity's eyes, rich and brown and so, so pretty, followed the movement even as the noise behind them grew louder.
"You're pretty." Sausage snickered. "Pretty, pretty face." Solidarity's said pretty face turned pink.
"You can't even see most of my face!" He protested, but his smile had returned- and that only made Sausage all the more giggly.
"I can see your..." Sausage blinked lethargically, "eyes. And- and I can see your smile. And they're both so..." Sausage yawned. "So pretty." He smiled up at Solidarity, hand shakily reaching up to clumsily pat at his masked face. "Just like my friend." Sausage's arm was weirdly folded across his chest, and he had to wonder when he had dropped it from Solidarity's- wait, no. He still had a hand up, although it had fallen to be propped up against the inside of Solidarity's shoulder at this point, so his other arm was just....there, he supposed. Weird.
"I-" Solidarity twisted slightly, as if to look over his shoulder. "-Alright, the meds have definitely kicked in by now so I guess I'll need to-" Sausage giggled again as Solidarity's rambling faded and twisted into pleasant white noise. He watched as Solidarity carefully removed Sausage's hand from his shoulder, placing it in his lap, and Sausage glared determinedly at it until he was able to finagle it into a loose thumbs-up. He thought that Solidarity might be doing something with his other arm, but when he moved to look he suddenly noticed the stitching on Solidarity's costume. His shaky hand unraveled itself, before softly pressing against and following the stitches along Solidarity's thighs and side. Solidarity froze for a moment, a hesitant hand patting awkwardly at Sausage's head before continuing whatever it was he had been working on. Sausage hummed into the touch, happily floating as he followed the lines of string, and then abandoned them to trace patterns and swirls into the rest of the fabric.
The room was suddenly quiet, and it was only in the absence of the noise that it occurred to Sausage it was unusual for screams to last for so long.
Huh, that was weird.
Crisp, quick footsteps echoed across the floor, and soon the familiar torso of a certain blue-haired supervillain came into view. Sausage grinned delightedly at the sight.
"Smajor!!" The villain in question crouched down in front of him, freshly gloved hand reaching out to softly touch his cheek. Sausage could feel Solidarity's arm around him tighten at the movement, before slightly relaxing when Sausage leaned into the touch.
"Hello Orchid," Smajor's voice was soft and calm, gentle and serious in a way it rarely was. "How are you feeling?" Sausage giggled at the question.
"Floaty!" He twisted around in Solidarity's hold as much as he could,(which wasn't much) suddenly bursting with energy. "THIS guy-" he pointed exaggeratedly at Solidarity. "-gave me drugs." The last part of his sentence was lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and Smajor gave a serious nod in response. Although the solemnity of the action was somewhat ruined by the small, amused smile on his face.
"Oh, did he now?" He turned to Solidarity with a playful lilt to his voice. "Are you a drug dealer now Solidarity? That's not very heroic." Solidarity sputtered indignantly.
"Oh piss off Smajor. I gave him some painkillers so I could set his arm, not to mention to help with the rest of-" he waved an arm to gesture vaguely at Sausage, whose offended pout was quickly quieted by Smajor hand softly running through his hair."-this." Smajor had grinned a little wider at the defensive response, but his face grew serious again at the attention brought back to Sausage.
His hand moved in a familiar motion, tilting Sausages chin up slightly as he examined the various cuts and bruises that littered his neck and chest with dark eyes.
"She's lucky she didn't kill you. I would not have been nearly so merciful if she had."
Solidarity snorted,
"If that's what you call merciful, I would hate to see what you call cruel." Smajor
turned his gaze back to Jimmy.
"Yes. Yes you would. Especially-" he moved his hand back to cradle Sausage's chin. "-when it comes to this one." If Sausage would have been anymore coherent, Smajor's words would have flustered him. But as it was, he merely hummed and turned further into Smajor's hand, planting a messy kiss into his palm.
The cold fingers against his skin became warmer for a moment, and Sausage felt more than consciously chose to melt even further into the hold.
Solidarity, whose voice was close enough to Jimmy's to feel familiar, was still a warm presence behind him, propping him up into a somewhat sitting position. The lights above him seemed far less abrasive than they had even minutes before, and the voices of the two above them had quickly faded to a pleasant murmur in his ears as the last dredges of pain began to fade from his body.
He was safe, and oddly happy as two of the people he liked most in the world seemed to more or less get along for the first time in his recall.
Sausage tried to turn to tuck further into Solidarity's hold, but remained druggedly calm when his body refused to respond to his brain's commands.
He smiled into the dark air, not even processing the cracking of his split lip as he did so, and fell asleep.
Bonus
"Wow." The Sandwitch bounced on her heels as she unceremoniously dumped the corpse onto the table, the loose head bouncing against the metal. "She's heavier than she looks!"
Smajor smiled back at her indulgently. "Yes, I suspect that it largely comes from her uniform- the equipment must be sturdy in order to withstand combat."
The Sandwitch beamed, stepping onto the built-in stool to roll the body onto it's back.
"I gotta say, I'm surprised you killed her there, I would have thought you'd have more fun with all your stuff at home." She made her way back to Smajor's side, cheerfully matching his stride as the reinforced cell doors slammed closed behind the pair.
"I got carried away." Smajor admitted. "In the moment, it was much more about making her hurt than making her useful."
"At least nobody took the body overnight!" The sandwitch said, forever the optimistic.
"I still need more information about her boss, and she wasn't being all that helpful once I got started." Smajor shrugged, "With her here, at least I can study her gear, see if I can't figure out who this boss of hers is. I can't have them sending anybody else after Sausage."
"Speaking of Sausage-" She said, her cheer softening, "He got discharged from the hospital today, and he seemed to like the flowers you had me drop off." Smajor paused in his stride, The Sandwitch having to scramble back to rejoin him.
"As long as her boss breathes, Sausage is in danger."
"So what do we do?"
Smajor reached up and pulled down his mask.
"I think it's time that we take a more active role in our gaurding of him."
The Sandwitch followed his lead, pulling her own mask off and shaking out her hair.
"What do you mean?" She asked, her head tilted in a puppyish confusion. Scott smiled,
"Lauren, how do you feel about aquariums?"
"Do they have jellyfish?" She asked enthusiastically.
"I believe so," Scott said, holding out a hand that Lauren took without question. "But that's not who we'll be visiting."