Unheroic Life of a Certain Cape-Chapter 49 Red on the Doorstep

Chapter 49
Red on the Doorstep
March 12, 2025. Wednesday. 4:34 a.m.
Onyx threw her controller onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, glaring at the TV as if the screen itself had betrayed her. “This is so boring,” she muttered, dragging out the last word like she wanted to hammer in her frustration.
I leaned back against the couch, unfazed by her usual theatrics, my thumbs still dancing across the controller. “It’s better this way,” I said, not taking my eyes off the screen. “We lie low for now, keep out of sight, and avoid giving anyone a reason to come knocking. You know that.”
She groaned and slumped sideways until her head rested on my shoulder, sulking in silence for a few moments before sitting upright again, controller in hand.
It had been over a week since Blackout’s death made headlines, her death plastered across every news outlet and forum thread that cared to gossip about capes and vigilantes. Seamark still wanted me dead, worse now, with whispers spreading about Royal’s death. It felt like every shadow held a pair of unseen eyes, waiting for me to make a mistake. The paranoia kept me wired, sleep-deprived, and constantly alert, but none of that mattered at the moment. Right now, I was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with Onyx, our console hooked up to the wide screen, locked in an endless string of matches in one of those classic fighting games where the characters screamed incoherent catchphrases while pummeling each other to the brink of digital death.
And right now, I was absolutely destroying her.
Or at least, I had been.
“You know,” Onyx said, narrowing her eyes at the screen as her fingers blurred over the buttons, “I let Silver have a few days last week, thinking I was being smart. I thought, hey, I’ll bank those days, cash them in her week, and do whatever I want with you. But nooo, you won’t even take me out on a date.”
I snorted, focusing on the match, watching her avatar’s health bar crumble under the weight of my perfectly timed combos. “That’s not how this works. And for the record, you agreed we stay in.”
“And you won’t even—” She mashed the buttons, her character suddenly breaking free from my assault and landing a devastating uppercut that flipped the momentum of the fight. “—eat me up, spoil me rotten like you do Silver, or whatever. Ugh, you’re the worst.”
I grimaced, realizing too late that she’d turned the tide. Her fighter unleashed a brutal chain combo, and before I could recover, the words K.O. flashed across the screen in mocking red. Round three wasn’t even a contest. She obliterated my poor muscular joe before I could land a single clean hit.
Onyx turned toward me, lips curling into a slow, mischievous grin. “Since you keep losing,” she said, her tone dripping with fake innocence, “want to fight somewhere else?”
The look she gave me made my stomach twist. It wasn’t subtle, and never was, with her. That gaze had gotten sharper over the months, her teasing becoming more blatant and more insistent, testing lines I didn’t even know existed.
I clenched my jaw and looked back at the screen, refusing to meet her eyes. Nope. Not happening. She needed to learn some damn self-restraint. There was a healthy amount of sex, and then there was… whatever this was. Besides, we were still too young for babies… ahem, and someone had to keep a level head between the two of us.
“Not gonna happen,” I muttered under my breath, fingers tightening around the controller as if that would keep my focus where it needed to be. “Not today, Onyx. Not today.”
“Pussy,” Onyx muttered, her tone sharp with mock irritation as she jabbed the controller buttons.
I smirked, rolling my shoulders and flexing my fingers over my own controller. “Another round,” I said, already cueing up the rematch screen.
She snorted, leaning back against the couch as we loaded in. The match began, and for the next few minutes, the room filled with the chaotic sounds of battle cries, crashing impacts, and button clicks. Between each combo and counter, we drifted into the usual random chatter… talking about the shows we’d never finish, the food she wanted to try, and the neighbors who, according to her, were either spies, drug dealers, or both.
My phone pinged on the coffee table, a soft notification that cut through the game audio. I paused mid-combo to glance at the screen. The sender name popped up in bold text: BunnyBlade.
I leaned forward and swiped it open. Another message. Attached was a compressed [.rar] file, followed by a simple note:
[Everything I could dig up on the Great Serpent. Be careful, Eclipse. This one’s nasty.]
Without hesitation, I downloaded the file, the corner of my lip twitching. Bunny never failed to deliver.
Onyx glanced at me while executing a combo, not even looking at the screen as she effortlessly pinned my character in a corner. “What’s up with BunnyBlade, anyway?”
Still distracted by the progress bar on my phone, I replied, “Mom’s old work contact. Found his name under one of her binders. Traced his handle, reached out from an anonymous source, and… we hit it off. Now, I’m just another one of his regular customers.”
“Huh.” Onyx tilted her head, eyes narrowing as her fingers blurred. “And it turns out he’s actually a Pride hacker. But are you really sure it’s a guy? I mean, he could be, but… and no, I am not saying this because I’m jealous or anything.”
I smirked, catching the faint pout on her face even as my character’s health bar dropped like a stone. “But you are pouting.”
Her cheeks puffed, and she huffed, landing the final blow with infuriating ease. K.O. flashed across the screen, mocking me yet again.
“Not jealous,” she said, folding her arms as if to seal the lie.
“Sure,” I said flatly, setting my controller down as I shifted on the couch. “Look, Mom’s… she was a really loose woman. There were nights she’d stumble home completely drunk, if she came home at all. Sometimes, she’d vanish for an entire week.” I exhaled slowly, the memories scraping raw against my mind. “Among all the names in her contacts and call logs, BunnyBlade was the one she talked to the most. Constant back-and-forth. Messages, calls. It’s why I figured he’d be useful.”
Onyx’s expression hardened as she studied me for a moment. Then, just as quickly, her lips curved into a wicked grin. “So…” She tilted her head, hair cascading over her shoulder, voice lilting with dangerous curiosity. “You want to kill this guy?”
I blinked, dumbfounded, and whipped my head toward her. “Oh, no. What the hell are you even thinking?”
She just laughed, unbothered, and queued up another match, the TV flashing as the character selection screen lit up again.
Just in time, a knock came at the door.
Onyx and I exchanged a glance. Her brow arched in curiosity while mine tightened in suspicion. She shrugged like it was nothing, but the muscles in her jaw said otherwise. I stood, moving silently to the bedroom where the small monitor for the CCTV feed was mounted just by the doorframe.
My stomach twisted the moment I saw her.
A familiar figure stood in the hallway. Black leather jacket zipped up to her throat. Fiery red hair spilling from her head. Her face was obscured by a black mask painted with jagged white teeth, the kind of haunting grin that dared you to look away but wouldn’t let you. It was Sharpy.
The last I’d heard of her, she had dipped out of the Royal job after carving through Pride’s traitors like they were nothing but meat on a chopping block. Seeing her here, outside my home, sent every alarm in my head screaming.
I returned to the living room, my expression flat and controlled. Onyx’s eyes flicked to me, sharp and searching. I raised my hand, forming a silent signal: worst-case scenario. Cape at the door. Possible enemy.
She moved without hesitation. Her smile stretched, feral and beautiful, as she ducked low, retrieving the shotgun from under the coffee table. The sound of her clicking the safety off was soft but lethal. Then she slid toward the entryway, pressing herself against the wall just beside the hinges, hidden from sight but ready to blow the door clean off if things went south.
I’m nervous. My chest tightened, but I forced the rhythm of my breathing to steady. There’s no way this was random. How the hell did Sharpy know where I lived? And worse… how did she know my civilian face? It couldn’t be a coincidence. I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, letting my face twist into a mask of confusion and fear, the scared civilian routine I’d perfected over the years. “Uh, can I help you—?” My voice cracked just slightly, a convincing tremor.
Then I tried to close it, quickly.
Sharpy’s foot wedged in the gap before the door could shut. The black grin of her mask tilted slightly as if she were amused.
“No need to play coy, Eclipse,” she said, her voice muffled but sharp enough to cut.
My heart stuttered.
“As for why I’m here,” she continued, lifting her arm, a sleek tinker-gun glinting under the dim hallway light, “it’s just business—”
“Don’t kill her!” I shouted just as Onyx pulled the trigger.
The roar of the shotgun erupted, deafening in the tight space. The door splintered near the hinges as buckshot tore through Sharpy’s hand, the tinker-gun clattering to the floor.
She screamed, a high, jagged sound of pain, clutching the mangled mess of her fingers.
I stepped forward, my face cold now, no fear left to fake. My hand phased through her chest like it wasn’t there, intangible fingers curling tight around the frantic rhythm of her heart.
Her mask tilted up, wide-eyed, breath stuttering in her throat.
“Answer honestly,” I said, my voice a quiet, icy whisper, “and you might just live.”