Chapter Text
“Regional crime rates are rising at what seems to be an exponential rate following the breakout of these underground fighting clubs. Police are working—“
Bdubs’s attention was drawn away from the shop’s TV by a finger snapping in his face, and the familiar sound of the espresso machine hissing behind him.
“Hello?” A girl stood impatiently at his register, and when Bdubs finally got the chance to focus, he noticed the already-annoyed attitude she adopted in two short seconds. “Are you even there? I’m trying to place an order here.”
“Right. Yes. Sorry about that,” Bdubs drawled out, tapping a few things on the register screen before devoting his attention to her, half-assedly. “What can I get for you?”
His brain instinctively tuned out whatever the girl said next, dropping into autopilot mode to ring up the balance he owed her back after a cash exchange, and took the steps necessary to craft the overcomplicated drink she just needed to have.
He would call it annoying, but considering how many entitled customers he dealt with daily, his mind really didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. So instead, he finished up her drink without any further mental tribulations and drew the biggest, most obnoxious smiley face right next to her name card on the cup.
“You have a nice day!” He put on a faux smile and tried to ignore how his eye twitched in response to the dismissal scoff she gave.
Thinking back, he really wondered why he let Scar talk him into taking a customer service job—especially one so incredibly demanding—as his cover identity.
Bdubs had been working at the Moss O’ Menos Cafe for a little over three weeks per Scar’s request, and he had to admit, he wasn’t the biggest fan of it. The building was beautiful in every sense, from hanging vines that shaped the walls stunningly to handcrafted interior decorating that gave off warm, homely vibes in the small space. It was anything but an eyesore to look at, and to add to it all, his coworkers were so very compassionate.
But, not even a great layout and kind people could distract him from the elephant in the room: he was supposed to be investigating a case, and he didn’t actually work here.
When he pressed Scar about why exactly it was fundamental for him to be here, and suggested that it was a serious misuse of his investigative abilities, he would only be shrugged off in response. Like that helped with his confusion.
Now that he thought about it more, nothing about this situation made any sense in context. An investigator as smart as him on this case shouldn’t even have to go undercover, considering the suspect at hand wasn’t going to go around searching for him individually—hell, he probably doesn’t even know Bdubs is privately investigating him! And regardless of that, using some fake cover didn’t make any sense, especially when he didn’t have to change his name or appearance. If the guy wanted to find out some information, he could literally just look up ‘BDoubleO’ at the association, and Bdubs would be exposed. The whole thing was so insanely flimsy.
Or, maybe Bdubs just wanted to find something to complain about because the foot pain earned from standing for so long was seriously kicking his ass.
It was no secret that Bdubs loved talking to other people, especially when they got him going about something interesting, but it only took his first shift for him to discover that this job was not at all built for him. It wasn’t just the physical labor aspect of the job that became daunting, but it was every other unnamed factor that just amplified his discomfort. The way customers would get annoyed at his joyous attitude, the fact that the floors were never entirely clean, no matter how hard the closing crew scrubbed, people looking him in the eyes before deciding not to tip—all of it!
Bdubs was created to sit in calm environments that allowed him to perfect his craft, listen to the same twenty songs over and over again, and sketch for hours on end, drawing up huge, architectural designs that he would never actually build, but he would like to.
He definitely wasn’t made to stand for seven hours tending to needy requests fabricated from pounds of whipped cream and espresso.
And he honestly wasn’t even good at making coffee.
The mundane routine continued into the hour before closing time, and by then, Bdubs’s incessant thoughts about getting a new job had begun to simmer down as customers left one by one, and he was able to freely slack off until closing. By the time Bdubs had a chance to check his phone again, it was 7:04 PM, and the only people left in the shop aside from him were his coworker, some couple, and a small group of friends that likely planned to loiter until they were kicked out. He took the free time to silently appreciate the fact that no one was insane enough to rush into the shop demanding coffee so far in the evening, and let out a sigh of relief as he slouched over the serving counter.
But of course, as soon as his head touched the slick marble, that annoying bell just had to go off again.
This time, instead of a rushed businessman or a group of teenagers who only planned to order a hundred pastries, a lean guy with a determined, yet awkward demeanor entered and briefly hesitated before he made his way to the counter. Bdubs, in response, sat up kind of straight to seem at least a little presentable. As bothersome as it was, it still wasn’t closing time, and he had to at least try to keep up this act the best he could.
The man was considerably tall, with medium-length, white, disheveled hair flowing over his shoulders carelessly. He wore a casual black tee with some band’s logo on it and a green puffer jacket to finish off the outfit. From what Bdubs could assume, he was definitely a little built.
But arguably, his most striking feature was the scar that started above his eyebrow, ran down the center of his left eye, across the freckles sprinkled over his upper cheeks, and ended underneath a black mask that covered the entire bottom part of his face. It spread a gash across the features on his left side, but based on the healed color and the fact that he didn’t seem to be in agonizing pain, it probably wasn’t recent. Man, if that didn’t trigger his curiosity.
Bdubs tried not to stare. He really did.
“Um—“ The stranger placed an unsure hand on the counter, tapping his finger. “Hi.”
Did he just say hi?
“Hi,” Bdubs responded with a more confident tone, albeit a little confused. When has someone ever come up to a register just to say ‘Hi’ and then go radio silent? “Uh—what can I get for you?”
“Oh, right.” He perked up for a minute, then faltered before turning his head upwards to scan the menu. Bdubs waited like a patient angel as the guy took a couple of light years to read each line displayed on the boards.
“Honestly, I’m not too sure.”
Bdubs’s eye twitched.
“Right, you’re coming in here right before we close to ‘not know’ what you want,” Bdubs said under his breath, slouching a little further. Semi-patient angel.
The guy paused for a minute, immediately drawing his attention to Bdubs. He hesitated again for a moment—man, he was good for that—and seemed to run over his dialogue options before landing on, “I’m sorry?”
“Nothing,” Bdubs lied.
“Oh no, I think you said something there,” The stranger crossed his arms, and his tone quickly shifted from shy to— playful? Is this asshole actually smiling under that mask? “You treat all your customers like that?”
“Only the ones who come in the middle of the night and don’t even know what they want,” Bdubs mimicked the playful tone the guy flipped on, and decided to test his luck.
“Oh, I’m so sorry for making you do your job,” The guy trailed off and squinted his eyes at the name plaque that Bdubs momentarily forgot he was wearing. Just another compromise of his ‘secret identity’—goodness sakes. “Bdubs?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s my name, don’t make me sick of it,” Bdubs skipped right past the fluff, repositioning his hands on the register in front of him. “Now are you gonna sit here and be conversation boy until I have to kick you out or decide on a drink?”
“‘Conversation boy?’” Conversation Boy raised his eyebrows in a mixture of what Bdubs could only assume was amusement and bewilderment. “You come up with that on the fly?”
“You bet.”
“Well, let me hurry up and place my order before you come up with any more—” Conversation Boy gestured randomly at the air. “…nicknames.”
“Please do, I’m all ears.”
Conversation boy shrank back into the shy demeanor he had entered with when he turned his head back up to the menu, and it was almost as if their back-and-forth interaction never happened. Bdubs didn’t know whether to be grateful for the newfound silence between them or slightly annoyed because he did love to talk. Not to mention, it was helping the time pass.
After a few more minutes of no progress, Conversation boy looked back at him.
“Um,” He started. “Actually, what do you recommend?”
Okay, so that was The Biggest Waste of Time Ever ™ if he just planned to ask that in the end, but whatever. This would make it quicker, anyway.
“Well, it’s the dead of the night, so assuming you’re not in the market for coffee, I would—“
“Nope, I want coffee.”
…What?
Bdubs froze, unable to help the blank stare that he was currently giving the man. He was genuinely thankful that he was an investigator because if these were the types of weirdos baristas dealt with daily, he would not at all be built for this job. Like, at all.
“You want coffee at—“ Bdubs checked his phone. “7:24 PM?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. An accusatory one at that, because this dude was a freaking psycho!
“Yep.” Conversation Boy didn’t seem to mind the odd look that Bdubs gave him. Either that, or he didn’t even manage to process it. “What do you recommend?”
Well, Bdubs sighed to himself, customers are always right. Or somethin’ like that.
“The lattes are pretty good, and that’s all I’ve ever had, so,” Bdub’s grabbed the small advertisement paper underneath the counter that displayed all the different kinds of lattes they offered, and pointed to his personal favorite: a cake-flavored one with decorative sweets on top.
“Okay,” Conversation Boy nodded at the drink, and Bdubs smiled to himself before he rang it up on the register—
“I’ll have a black coffee with extra cream and whipped cream on top.”
Bdubs froze, blinking his eyes before looking up at the absolute asshole.
“Hey!” He shouted, and a few of the lingering people in the shop turned their heads. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge them. “That is the complete opposite of what I said! And I literally just rang you up!”
“Well, I’m not ordering a latte, that’s so juvenile,” Conversation Boy had a smug look in his eye, and even though Bdubs couldn’t see underneath the mask, he could just tell he was smirking.
Bdubs couldn’t even begin to understand how he alternated so quickly between being a shy wreck and the most annoying guy on the planet.
“You just ordered a five-year-old’s dream!”
“No,” He drew out the ‘o.’ “It’s a black coffee, it’s different.”
Bdubs opened his mouth to say something in retaliation, but quickly closed it when he realized he was better than this. He was smarter, more mature, and definitely not about to make a fool out of himself at this fancy new job that wasn’t his job. So instead, he took out the original order he put in and punched up the new one with minimal annoyance.
“Gosh, here.” Bdubs handed him his change after the cash exchange and stomped off as he sarcastically stated, “Your order will be right up, your majesty.”
And Bdubs did not lie about getting that order right out, because after a prance around the preparation station and a thirty-second search for the whipped cream, the drink was already in a serving cup, and being shoved into the guy’s hand. Bdubs watched as Conversation Boy’s eyes lit up like a toddler when he saw the drink, and tried with all his might not to roll his eyes.
“Thank you,” Conversation Boy quipped, turning away to adjust his mask so he could take a sip.
Though, it only took a few seconds for him to jolt back around with a concerned look in his eye and a slightly tighter grip on the cup, much to Bdubs’s confusion. “Uh— how long have you been working here exactly?”
“Why do you wanna know…?”
“This is,” He pointed at the cup, “arguably one of the worst cups of coffee I’ve ever had.”
Oh, you’re kidding.
“What?!” Bdubs nearly jumped over the counter at that, and by now, they were definitely getting stares from across the shop. Still didn’t matter, though, because Bdubs simply had to find out what the hell this guy’s problem was.
Bdubs was man enough to admit that he’s not that great at making coffee, he’s already accepted that, but for this guy to waltz in here right before closing, demand some whipped cream fantasy, and then claim it’s the worst thing he’s ever had—Oh, if this was some kind of shark bait, Bdubs would be guilty of diving in head first.
Conversation Boy seemed to realize that fact quickly and took the opportunity to plaster an artificial look of innocence across the top half of his face. “So sorry, Bdubs, but I’m no liar.”
“Oh yeah, huh, then why are you still drinking it?” Bdubs pointed out, putting on a smirk of his own.
“Need the energy for work,” He shrugged off the loophole Bdubs tried to create, and slid the one free hand he had into the pocket of his jacket.
Bdubs wondered for a second what type of work he could be getting up to so late at night, as most of the jobs across Hermitcraft were done during the day, or in cases of extremity, finished up just before the sun went down. Maybe college work if he wasn’t fully finished with it? He looked a few years younger than Bdubs was, so it wouldn’t be entirely crazy, but—
He quickly shrugged off the investigative part of his brain to focus on the bigger picture here.
“Oh, whatever, you just want to piss me off! I see that now, and I’m not falling for it. Nope, nope.” Bdubs was mature. He was so freakin’ mature. Bigger person and all that stuff. “You can take your weird little reasons to midnight coffee drinking and mysterious aura out of my shop, Conversation Boy, thank you.”
“It’s Etho!” He exclaimed with all the might of a disturbed mouse, and Bdubs nearly let out a small giggle at his clear disdain for the nickname. Not to mention, Etho looked like he was about to throw up. That was definitely a sight that managed to put a smile on Bdubs’s face. “My name is Etho. Please don’t refer to me as ‘Conversation Boy’ ever again.”
“Okay, ‘Etho,’” Bdubs crossed his arms again, shrugging off the previous anger he had. “Your questionable name isn’t gonna help your case here.”
“Oh yeah, because ‘Bdubs’ is so much more conventional.”
Bdubs opted to ignore that and instead let out an exaggerated sigh. “Just trust me, the more you drink it, the better it gets, so just give it a minute to transform, for goodness sakes.”
“Coffee can transform?”
“Anything can transform if you make it right.”
“…I don’t think that’s true,” Etho blinked. “Or healthy.”
Who did this guy think he was? The coffee connoisseur? Bdubs rolled his eyes and decided to make use of the passing time Con— Etho provided him with to start the routine of locking up the register.
“Whatever, jeez,” Bdubs looked him up and down before absentmindedly tapping away at the register to close it. “Maybe you should be working here instead of me, since you think you know so much.”
Etho fully laughed at that, and although it was a slightly monotone and short-lived thing, it caught Bdubs completely off guard.
He had instances so far where he’d make customers laugh, and even outside of his fake job, he was known to be a jokester down at the association. But something about the way Etho laughed—it sounded so genuine, and… needy in a way. Like he was subconsciously waiting for Bdubs to say something else to make him laugh even harder.
“What, that tickle you?” Bdubs smiled, finishing up his routine and turning his full attention to Etho, now.
“I’d need some training before I can apply, you know anyone around here who actually knows how to make coffee?”
“Hey!” Bdubs’s fuse was lit again, and he walked out from behind the counter in the most threatening way he could, considering Etho had quite a few inches on him. Etho just watched in amusement, one hand holding the shitty coffee and the other still in his pocket. “That’s it, that’s strike five, go on home and drink the supposedly horrible coffee I made you.”
“Strike five?” Etho’s smile could be heard clear as day through the mask.
“That’s how the saying goes!”
“Maybe I’ll come back again, see if your skills have improved?”
“Maybe you should! Next time, I’ll make your childish drink so sweet your teeth will rot.” Bdubs followed Etho as he slowly made his way to the door, still maintaining an annoyed attitude. “Maybe then, I can close up early for once.”
“That’s not very five-star worthy, Bdubs,” Etho commented, and paused right before he could leave the building. He looked at Bdubs expectantly, and probably wasn’t going to leave until he got one last sly remark.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Bdubs spoke sarcastically, and barely hid his smirk. “Enjoy staying up all night!”
Etho just waved in response, finally exiting the shop and going about his night. Bdubs had to admit, as viciously annoying as the guy was, that was the most fun he’s had in a shift thus far, and it helped the time drop from the start of seven to only ten minutes before close.
A part of him wondered if Etho was telling the truth, that he would actually come back and try Bdubs’s coffee again since it was oh-so-bad. It couldn’t have been that much of a hazard the first round, Bdubs decided. He didn’t have a whole lot of experience with making fancy drinks, but following rules and tutorials wasn’t an impossible task. Etho was probably just lying for fun.
Bdubs rolled his eyes with a smile he couldn’t wipe off and headed towards the back of the store to grab the mop and finish out the day.
He paused by the corner of the serving counter, though, to quickly tidy up some spill that was probably left by a busy customer or some kid.
“Well, anyone thinking of heading there?”
A hushed conversation brewing from the table with the only remaining guests almost made him freeze completely.
It wasn’t remarkably surprising for some customers to be engaged in inappropriate conversations inside the shop, and most of them took to quieting their voices to keep concerns within the barriers of the group, but something about the delivery of that question felt off. It didn’t seem like a conversation they would be embarrassed of if discovered, like the rest of the ones he’d encountered, but rather something that wasn’t supposed to be heard. His mind ran through a field of predictions before he had to manually shut it off with a shake.
It was probably nothing to be concerned about, and even if it was, he was about to be off the clock in two minutes. If the situation were really oh-so-pressing, it could be Tomorrow Bdubs’s issue.
“To the fight? Hell yeah I’m going,” Another voice from the table responded with a little less regard than the other. “Especially if Ladders is gonna be there, are you kidding?”
Okay, maybe not nothing.
Bdubs started walking past the table inconspicuously, putting on the face of someone ready to close up shop with complete apathy for the conversation they had going, but as soon as he turned the corner to enter the storage room, he softly pressed himself up against the closest wall and listened in.
With a free hand, he fumbled for his phone and started to record the conversation distantly. Genius Bdubs, he nodded to himself.
“It’s tonight? Who’s fighting?” A third, more pitched voice emerged from the table.
“I know it’s Ladders and someone else from Empires City’s fight club. I think it’s gonna be in the usual place near the Southlands since the association has their eyes off the spot, not sure when it starts, though.” The first speaker carried on. “Lots of bets are going around this time since Ladders hasn’t been in it for so long.”
“You’re kidding, where at?”
“Wait, are you sure we should be dropping info like this? I mean, we’re in public,” A fourth and final voice jumped into the conversation, and Bdubs could hear shuffling across the table, presumably to see if anyone was watching or listening to them from an obvious location. Bdubs tensed slightly, praying that the group wouldn’t be smart enough to actually listen.
“A coffee shop in the middle of the night, Xb, there’s like no one here except the people monetarily bonded.” Yes! Idiocy always wins! “Plus, practically half the city already knows about it. If the association was actually good at their jobs, we would maybe have something to worry about—but they’re not!” Hey! What?!
“I’m just saying, better safe than sorry!”
Bdubs decided to completely ignore the indirect jab at the work he does for the association in favor of laughing in their faces later when this whole thing is solved, and instead took the time to shut off the recording as their topic shifted to something unimportant.
It took a few minutes for the gravity of the situation to actually settle in. Before today, Ladders had been completely untraceable and near impossible to track, other than word of mouth and the scattered remnants of posters leftover from past fights. Even then, perceptions would fluctuate with each individual who mentioned him.
But now, because of four idiots in a coffee shop, Bdubs had relatively solid confirmation of where he would be and what he would be doing. All that was left to do now was inform Scar so he could have the association waiting for the suspect and ready to arrest upon sight.
Almost on queue, his phone lit up with a message so stunningly timed it was comical.
GTWScar: Need a ride?
bdouble: yes pls
-
Scar was already waiting outside in the parking lot by the time Bdubs finished the closing routine and waved goodbye to his coworker for the night. He wasted no time hopping into the car with a giddy attitude that painted his face all pretty.
“You look excited,” Scar pointed out, starting up the car and putting it into automated driving once Bdubs was situated. “Not so ready to send in your two weeks' notice anymore? What’s going on?”
“You’re not gonna believe this,” Bdubs held back a giggle, “I’m a madman genius who needs to get a raise. Effective immediately.”
“That’s not much explanation,” Scar murmured, visibly unenthused about the idea of giving out pay upgrades.
“I’m getting to it!” Bdubs nearly shouted from excitement and self-pampering. “So, as I was closing up, I noticed these three idiots talking about something kinda shady, so naturally, I did some investigating.” He pulled out his phone, showing it off like an award. “Turns out, there’s gonna be another fight tonight, and I’ve got the whole thing on recording with details.”
“Oh, so it worked!” Scar simply smiled. “Good to know.”
“What?” Bdubs tilted his head. “What d’you mean ‘it worked’?”
“Well, Bdubs, that was the entire point,” Scar said matter-of-factly. “That’s exactly why we wanted you there. People reveal the craziest things when they’re in a comfortable environment, y’know!”
What…
“So you’re tellin’ me—“ Bdubs really tried to mask his anger, here. He was so freakin’ calm. “You already knew that would happen? What, did you plant them there or something? Flash a big shiny billboard of the cafe in their faces so they’d all be like ‘Oh yeah, let’s go there and piss off Bdubs’!?”
“What? No,” Scar shifted his eyes between the road and Bdubs. “No, all that stuff you heard was real. We just encouraged you guys to meet by having you work there. It’s nothing crazy, B, I thought you knew all this—“
“No!”
“So you thought we had you working at that cafe for, what, fun?”
“Yes!”
“Oh, Bdubs,” Scar clicked his teeth, throwing up his fingers on the wheel. “Come on. Working a night shift at a social outlet in one of the most crime-ridden parts of Hermitcraft? That didn’t set off any bells?”
“Well—“ Bdubs crossed his arms like a dissatisfied toddler. “I’d appreciate it if you guys would let me know a little more instead of shipping me off to do your bidding!”
“Okay, noted,” Scar returned to tranquility when he realized Bdubs was pretty much finished. “I’ll have Tango fill you in on the way over there about the lengths of the mission.”
“On the way over there?” Bdubs raised an eyebrow. “I’m coming too?”
“Well, yeah, you’re kind of a big part of it.”
“But— I’m not an officer, how exactly am I gonna help apprehend him?”
“Apprehend—“ Scar couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Bdubs was feeling very undermined right about now. “No, no, Bdubs, we’re not catching him today— God, no. That would be really convenient, though. No, this is just the first step.”
“Firs- what are you talking about?”
“This is why Tango is gonna fill you in on everything.”
-
And when they met up at the station, Tango did exactly that. In fact, he may have overdone it a bit, considering Bdubs was still getting an earful even as they were driving to the targeted spot. An earful that just so happened to go in one and out the other. Maybe he should’ve just kept blissful ignorance.
From what Bdubs could actually gather outside of pounds of word-vomit, Scar and Tango had put together a foolproof plan to capture Ladders and the rest of the organization he worked with. Bdubs already assumed he wasn’t working alone, considering it would be near impossible for him to so narrowly avoid being caught every single time, but he never actually stopped to think about the implications of Ladders having a whole organization on his side.
As he learned more about Ladders and how dangerous he was, Bdubs’s day job as a barista to get information started to make a lot more sense, and so did the reason why they weren’t just jumping the gun and arresting him on sight. With a bunch of people managing this stuff, it would be child's play for him to escape.
The only part Bdubs didn’t like about the plan is the fact that he was at the center of it. Literally.
He would now have to be in attendance for Every. Single. Match.
Collecting information was his job, but Bdubs couldn’t say he loved the infiltration part. He personally found himself having much more fun collecting the necessary bits of evidence to formulate a bigger picture, and if that could be his job, hell, he’d be set.
It was all such a headache, he exhaled. All for the mission.
“I think this is the spot,” Bdubs declared as they rolled up beside a tattered, abandoned building with a small sound of party music and orange-ish, burnt lighting seeping out of it. “You think it’s started yet?”
“Please, I think the place would be a little more lively if that were the case,” Tango rolled his eyes, putting the car in park. “They’re probably just starting up bets amongst other illegal things.”
“Mmm,” Bdubs hummed, and eyed the entrance of the run-down building.
People were walking in and out like it was some kind of store stationed in the center of a strip mall, and from that fact alone, Bdubs could tell Tango was right. No one would want to risk losing their front row seats to the fight, especially knowing the extent of certain bets. From that, he concluded that the fight hadn’t started yet, and probably wasn’t going to for another hour or so.
That would provide enough time for the two of them to slip in surreptitiously, scope the scenery, and potentially find out some helpful information about the target.
Luckily, Tango had the same genius brain as him.
“Okay, I’m gonna go take a look at the place in depth, talk to some people, and see if I can get some insider info on these meetups,” Tango casually whispered to him as soon as they entered the place. “While I do that, try to find out as much as you can about the guy so we can call this night a success, and maybe get some celebratory drinks.”
“It’s way too late for that, but whatever,” Bdubs whispered back, and before Bdubs could turn his head to usher a goodbye, Tango had already slipped away. That was quick.
Bdubs narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar surroundings, watching as groups of people–some intimidating and some not–migrated from one area to another with a buzz of conversation following them. For a run-down shack of a building, the place was so bustling it almost made Bdubs disregard how disgusting the scene was as he made his way deeper into the gathering.
Almost, Bdubs reinforced when he found the bottom of his shoe in the middle of some mysterious ground-liquid.
He gravitated towards the zone with the best illumination, which, of course, had to be the bar. Mostly because the lack of lighting sprinkled throughout the place was starting to give Bdubs a headache, and because this was the spot with the least amount of people. The best for secret spy work!
He decided against ordering a drink due to time and his uncertainty about what exactly would be in it. Instead, he stood up against a frayed jukebox and listened in on the conversations surrounding him–all of which were filled with people gushing about Ladders. Because of course they were.
“You new?”
A person with a somewhat distorted voice slid up next to him, and the sudden sound completely scrambled his running thoughts.
Bdubs turned his body to face the voice, fully expecting to see some kind of robot waltzing around as a human, which, ironically, wouldn’t be the craziest thing he saw at a gathering like this. But, instead of a 6’3 robot-man hybrid, he set eyes on a red-and-white fox mask and some guy with a visibly slim build hiding behind it.
The man wore a long-sleeve black compression shirt and had remarkably baggy sweatpants to accommodate it. His hair was a shiny white and tied into a careful bun at the back of his head, the work so neatly done that not a single strand escaped it—how impressive, Bdubs thought sarcastically.
Now that Bdubs could fully assess the situation, he assumed the voice changer was just an asset of the mask, and this guy didn’t actually talk like a robot.
“Um,” Bdubs cleared his throat, almost forgetting to answer the question. “Who’s asking?”
“Oh, so you are new.”
“Wha—” Bdubs sputtered, almost stumbling over himself. “How do you know?”
“Because if you weren’t new, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.” Even with the mask’s voice changer, Bdubs could clearly make out a taunting tone.
“Wow, real cocky.” Bdubs crossed his arms tightly. “You some big time guy?”
“A little.”
“Oh, he’s so humble now,” Bdubs rolled his eyes with exaggeration, feeling the background conversations he tried to simultaneously focus on slowly fade into the music. “Weren’t you just implying you’re universally known?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”
“Well, are you gonna tell me who you are or just sit around actin’ cute?”
“I think you’ll know in a couple of minutes,” The guy shrugged again and spun on his heel to make his way towards the gathering crowd. “Just make sure you bet on Ladders, okay?”
“Bet on—” Bdubs processed. “Wait—”
He couldn’t mean…
“Yep?”
This guy was Ladders, the actual Ladders! Bdubs finally realized when the guy paused, seemingly awaiting a response. All tall, awkward, and stupid-looking in a way.
The suspect was standing right here in front of him, literally ready to be apprehended.
Bdubs should do something. Anything.
He should call Tango! Tango would have the jurisdiction to arrest him right here and now without any further struggle. Bdubs could put an end to this whole thing, and tear Scar’s extensive, two-million-step plan apart in one fell swoop. All he had to do now was grab his phone and text a single sentence—maybe call. Call would be better, yes.
“Did you need something, or do you plan to just stand there with your mouth open? Because, uh, if it’s the latter, I’m just gonna—um—go,” Ladders finally spoke up.
“No!” Bdubs all but shouted, and that definitely caught the guy’s attention.
“I mean, no, sorry— I, just.” Bdubs loosened the unknowing grip he had on his phone, and he paused for a minute, dumbfoundedly.
“I-I just wanted to say good luck, man.”
“Thanks,” Ladders perked up slightly at the gesture, and just like that, he was off. He had obliviously-yet-successfully escaped from Bdubs’s grasp, and Bdubs didn’t even bother trying to chase after him. It was pointless by then.
Instead, he released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and joined the rest of the crowd in finding a spot to watch the onstage fight.
As Bdubs forced his way to the front of the crowd, his ears started working again to catch the end of what the announcer was saying. Judging from the loud contender who was already positioned on stage, he had already been introduced, so they were just waiting on…
“With all that said, please welcome back our undefeated champion, the literal fox of tonight’s battle; it’s Ladders!”
When he set foot on the stage, Bdubs could’ve sworn the atmosphere of the room got ever-so-slightly colder, despite the bodies pressed up against each other hoping to get a better view of the presumable “star.”
Seriously, what is so special about this guy? Bdubs thought to himself as a girl nudged him aside to get closer. From the short-lived interaction they had, it was safe to assume the dude was a complete loser. Is it just the fact that he hasn’t lost or what?
“In Mycelium Fight Club,” The announcer's voice boomed through the microphone, and the crowd roared back in response. “Everything goes, everyone fights, and most importantly, everyone bets.”
“Everyone ready?” The announcer looked between the two as they stretched and quickly jumped back into some VIP seating area. “Okay, okay, I won’t stall any longer– enjoy the fight!”
And with that, the battle ignited, the first punch being thrown by Ladders’s opponent, a broad-shouldered guy with long, brown hair that ran down his back. Bdubs watched as Ladders dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the attack.
With an open opportunity to strike, he climbed up the ropes behind the fighter originally meant to confine the opponents to the arena, and jumped down on the contender’s head in a swift motion, sending a chill down Bdubs’s spine.
So that’s why they call him Ladders.
As the fight progressed, Bdubs’s attention eventually gravitated to strictly Ladders, and he thoroughly studied the way he fought.
He leapt, spun, and drew circles around his opponent with a soft yet sharp essence. Every reckless punch that his contender threw was met with a calculated and quiet offense, even if it lacked the same level of might.
Bdubs couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t the least bit captivated by what he was watching. It didn’t feel like he was witnessing a gruesome fight, but rather a ballet performance with Ladders front and center, completely in his element.
For someone so esteemed, it felt so odd to watch him battle with a demeanor that Bdubs could only describe as majestic.
In fact, the view was so stunning, it caused the disgust growing in Bdubs’s chest to multiply in size.
That’s exactly how he gets people to pay for this shit.
Bdubs locked back into the fight and watched as his stark white hair flashed across every corner of the arena, the perfectly sculpted bun almost unraveling to reveal its true length. He didn’t even acknowledge it, though, as he slipped underneath his opponent in a motion so swift and calculated it almost shook the arena.
It was at that moment Bdubs realized he'd never seen anything like it.
Someone who fought as if they were dancing on ice.
Louder shouts surrounded him as Ladders had sturdily wrapped his legs around the other’s neck, and they both toppled to the ground in one quick motion. When one body emerged from the ground, Bdubs noticed it was none other than Ladders, now towering over his beaten adversary.
As the announcer stepped back onto the stage and fanatically raised the winner’s arm into the sky, the satiny lumination radiating from the array of spotlights above them caught Ladders’s hair just right–just enough for Bdubs to see a soft flash of snow fall behind both of them.
Bdubs’s grip tightened on the railing in front of him, and as he watched the subjects exit the stage, the artificial snowstorm that encapsulated the building fell back into heat.
Bdubs, regaining some sense, quickly ran after the pair in an attempt to stop this nonsense himself before it got completely out of hand. Watching that battle, he understood it now: why people were so inclined to spend heaps of money, to watch this shit in the dead of the night, to criminalize themselves.
He rushed past bodies, more bodies, and definite crooks, and when his body started to feel the same chill he did when Ladders was on stage, he knew he was getting closer and—
“Bdubs! I was looking for you! Were you able to find anything out?” Tango grabbed his arm, yanking him out of his thoughts and sprint. Bdubs watched Tango’s face change from amusement to concern when he met the tired eyes Bdubs had when he whipped around to face him. “Or– uh, d’you get a good view of the fight?”
“I-“ Bdubs looked behind him again, the subtle chill escaping his body. “Yeah, I did.”
“You okay?” Tango’s voice softened. “You look… kinda like shit, man.”
“I was trying to—“ Bdubs started, but what was there to say? He was trying to chase down the best fighter in Hermitcraft to do… what? Bdubs didn’t even have the jurisdiction to arrest him if they were face-to-face. He cleared his throat. Focusing. “Never mind. I actually got a lot of information while you were gone. We can debrief it all when we get in the car.”
“After drinks?”
“It’s 2 AM, Tango,” Bdubs let out a giggle as they slowly exited the building with everyone else.
“During drinks?” Tango batted his eyelashes. “Come on, dude, we did a good thing today!”
“Sure, man, whatever.”
-
As they talked over drinks with a very tired Scar on facetime, Bdubs’s mind wandered back to the arena, back to the snow, and stayed there for a long while. This was going to be one hell of a case, he decided when he finally made it home, and let the thought follow him into a soundless sleep.