We return to the present day. This chapter depicts the events that come before chapter one. Keep in mind, this chapter and chapter one happen all in the same night. Chapter twelve depicts the events that happen the next day after the events of chapter one.
Wilbur was dancing with Ace under the moon in a maze of endless alleyways. Twirling and twisting through the narrow streets as the villain guided him through. The hero was covered in blood, the red substance clinging to his clothes and skin. His nemesis was spotless in contrast, the only blood on him being the gloves that held Wilbur's hands in his own.
The shrike avian smiled at him happily, "I've got you."
The words were both comforting and disturbing, two different tones of voice echoing together.
'I've got you', in a softer, more reassuring voice. Implying that the shorter would be there for him. Would hold him steady.
'I've got you', in a tone that was smug almost. Like Ace had him exactly where he wanted the hero. Like he had won.
Wilbur's not sure why he liked both tones. Shuddering at the darker tone and smiling at the softer one, the taller allowed the villain to dip him, lowering him closer to the ground.
For some reason, he trusted that Ace wouldn't drop him.
He was right to do so, the shrike avian held him without wavering for even a second. Carefully, his nemesis pulled him back up into a twirl, stepping in tune with a melody neither could hear but both somehow knew.
They continued through the maze of alleys until they came upon a large spike jutting out of the ground. There was a body there, one that Wilbur recognized.
The villain that had attacked him a few weeks back.
The one that Ace had killed.
...The one his nemesis had claimed Wilbur had killed.
He shook his head, the blood on his clothes and skin suddenly seeming a lot more real.
There was no way he had actually...? Right...?
The memory suddenly replaced the maze of alleys, Wilbur kicking down hard on the villain and sending him crashing into the streets below.
A thundering crack shattered the memory.
"He was dead on impact, songbird," Ace insisted, still holding his hands as the hero returned to the maze of alleys
"You impaled him," Wilbur said, voice shaking.
"I covered it up," his nemesis smiled at him in a sweet manner. "That way nobody could accuse you, since the spike thing is my signature. They automatically would assume it was me and never investigate further. They'd never realize that the cause of death was impact."
The magpie avian shuddered in horror, but Ace didn't let him linger, continuing to pull him through the alleys.
"It's okay, songbird," he said as they danced again. "He deserved it."
Wilbur tried to make sense of the feelings surrounding Ace.
He found himself leaning closer and letting the villain have full control of the dance.
The hero felt like he could trust his nemesis, his instincts told him the shrike avian was safe. So he let the shorter lead.
It was like flying in a storm.
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