Fighting Fire with Fire

Eyeing the injured people before his gaze shot to the now dead woman behind the counter, Brandon scowled angrily beneath his mask. He didn't care much about the people bleeding around him, and hardly flinched when the poor teller's brains were splashed out on the wall behind her. No, the only thing that really hit him was just how pissed off he suddenly was. He didn't like the other masked man, and this was supposed to be his chance to prove that, hey, yesterday's fuck-up was completely uncharacteristic of him. He didn't want to have to let this other guy take all the credit for pulling off the robbery while Brandon went home, feeling underwhelmed.

"You should know by now that I like being fashionably late, pal. Do you wanna hand over that cash, 'cos you oughta know that I'm not gonna let you just walk out with it. Wouldn't it be fair. You know this is my fucking patch and I don't like you intruding on it, buddy," he sighed, moving to sit up on the counter while swinging his legs absently, seeming perfectly happy to be sat just feet apart from the man he personally wanted to see die at his own hand.

Eventually, though, he groaned and pushed himself back to his feet once growing irritated by the constant sniffling of an injured woman on the floor, though one good whack across the face with the baseball bat quickly put an end to her suffering. While he cleaned the blood from the weapon with his sleeve, he trailed back towards Skyler and, once jumping down from the counter, grinned brightly-- not that it could really be seen, only heard through his delighted tone.

"You really ain't giving me the cash?" He tutted, trailing a finger along the desk and chuckling at the smoke that arose from it. "Because, I'll be honest with 'ya, I don't really care if I leave here without a pound. I'm quite happy just blowing the place up and knowing you're unconscious getting burned to death. That'll be like Christmas to me, I ain't gonna lie."
 
"How sweet, you'd let me be unconscious first," he replied flatly, before taking a casual jump off the counter himself, unable to force back his own cocky grin as he adjusted the bag. They've already had a good half dozen interactions similar to this one, after all, and he knew more than anyone that he would simply run off with the cash, despite the man's threats.

"You know, this is getting pretty tiring. I'd give up, if I were you. Or, maybe, how about we make a truce~? I don't want you to mope about knowing you keep seeming to fail. We could split up half the territory?" He offered, though the rather dismissive laugh at the end seemed to destroy all thoughts of a genuine understanding.

"Burn this place to the ground, for all I care. I know you enjoy your little fires. Hell, it can be as bloody and violent as you please. I'd offer you a proper handshake and goodbye, but I'd like to keep my hand."
 
In all their past meetings, Brandon had never been physical with him. He'd often not had much of a chance, with police either storming the place or the other mask man taking his leave before a single punch could be thrown. However, not hearing any police sirens go off as of yet, he figured that he had enough time to at least give the other something to remember him by-- even if that manifested itself into, what he saw as, a weak punch.

Then again, Brandon's weak punches were often the same as a normal man's strongest, and even though he groaned inwardly at the lazy hit, he was at least satisfied enough with it-- especially when it proved to be some sort of distraction. With that, he made a grab for the backpack on Skyler's shoulder, although not a grab that was indicative of him wanting what was in it. Rather, he only wanted to make contact with it for a second or two, enough to set it on fire.

"Yeah, I like my fires. Just like you like floating about and doing whatever fucking else you do," he shrugged, casting a final glance around the area in hopes of gathering together a few notes, but eventually gave up on getting any money. He'd stopped Skyler's hope of leaving with a few thousand, he'd punch the man full on in the face, and he felt he'd stamped down his authority enough to be taken seriously. All in all, this wasn't entirely a failure, right? "I'm just gonna go now, pal. You got anythin' to say, or did I knock our a few teeth when I hit 'ya~?"
 
"Yeah. Are you that desperate to try and fix your reputation, that you'd burn thousands of dollars?" He asked, more winded than hurt after the knock. It was just in time, that he changed his corporeal State, but it wasn't enough to keep him stumbling. The real panic was the money, that he desperately tried to stomp out. Yeah, he was well-off, but his mother wasn't cheap in her demands. He managed to salvage a good thousand, but he didn't want to cut into his already saved cash.

He wanted nothing more than to punch the other, but he wasn't dull. He knew that if he tried, it wouldn't do a damn thing... but a quick bullet to the other's back, while it probably did nothing, made him at least feel a bit better as he kicked the backpack to the side.
 
Sure, the bullet didn't enter and did just bounce off as soon as it hit his back, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Given the close proximity he'd been shot at, the bullet would definitely leave a bruise. While somehow managing to hold back a pained groan, he did grimace angrily beneath the mask. He didn't like being hurt -who did?- and he especially hated getting hurt by the other masked man, especially hearing his signature cocky remark at his expense.

"...Don't you fuckin' dare. My reputation is fucking fantastic, I ain't trying to repair shit," he snapped in his own typical swearing manner. He would have lashed out and attacked him good and proper, but he knew that was useless. As useless as it was for Skyler to try punching him, it was equally as useless for Brandon - Skyler would just make sure the hits would go straight through him, rather than land. Given that, it was a waste of his energy.

"Ah fuck you," he eventually shrugged, reaching to plug his earphones back in. "I mean, it must be hard trying to rival me, huh? You'd fade into the background if I didn't focus my attention on getting rid of 'ya. You ain't shit. I'm at least charismatic. You got the personality of a cardboard fucking box, dude."
 
"I'm not doing this for attention, you cunt. You're the only one here who cares, I just want to get some cash and have fun. What is your game, skull-face?" He snapped, his attempt to keep calm fading quickly, especially with the growing fire and the annoying screams of civilians, that of which he shot a few to shut them up.

"Clearly, you're obsessed with me. Showing up to the same places I do, constantly trying to hurt me... What's with that, huh?" He asked, his breath finally returning to normal as he clutched the cash tight in his hand. "Sounds like you're properly obsessed with me. i take that as a compliment, you're whole schoolboy thing. You like me, so you want to hurt me."
 
"I just think you're a boring, unimaginative asshole who needs to, y'know, find somewhere else to hang out, 'cos this is kinda my area and I ain't gonna just allow you to stroll in and take up the headlines with your boring-ass acts. If you were cool about it and actually pulled off some fucking awesome stunt, I'd probably enjoy having you around. But you're such a bore," the other replied, finally seeming to come back from that overly serious few seconds he'd spent angrily growling under his breath, because that really wasn't how Brandon liked to act. He didn't particularly like getting angry, and even if Skyler annoyed him, he realised that, by acting as he always did, loud and extroverted, he was just going to annoy Skyler more. If he got angry, the other masked man would realise he'd gotten under Brandon's skin.

"My game? I want you dead, y'know? But hey, I'm fine with you being around for a while. Makes me look good. Even when I fuck up, I still get feared. When you fuck up, people laugh at you. Don't you have social media? There's countless of YouTube clips of you, like, looking like a fucking clown," he snorted, suddenly pushing himself closer so that, if he wanted, he could lift off the other's mask-- but as intrigued as he was, he didn't bother trying. He knew he wouldn't succeed, anyway. "You just need to chill out, dude! Like... you're so stiff, ain't 'ya? Fucking hell, it must be so boring being you~!"
 
Clenching his fists in anger, and partially fear from the close proximity of their masks, he remained silent for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth nervously. When he figured nothing was actually going to happen, he chose to 'be the bigger person', by phasing through the man's body towards the door. They were in a burning building, after all, and while the two men were incredibly nonchalant about it, he still didn't want to die.

"I'm not here to deal with some childish loser. I'm here for the money, and that's it. i don't need to impress you. Now, go off and cause some more needless havoc on London. You say I'm boring, but I'm not the one who set a fire to a bank that didn't need to be burned. You're fucking careless, and I've read plenty of articles online and on the news of how pathetic you truly are."
 
"Fucking careless or having fun? You don't know the fucking meaning of the word, do 'ya? Aw, you gonna run off? Can't stand and face me? That's cool, fella, you do you. I mean, I'm gonna burn this place to the ground just to stamp down my authority in the press and news articles, walk outta here, while you get photographed running away like a kid. I'm sure there are cameras out there right now. I'm gonna stroll on out and take the blame for all this-- why don't you head on out back and avoid the embarrassment of being made to look weak in comparison?" He drawled slowly, deciding it wasn't worth his time clambering over the letter's space and through the hole in the reinforced glass and so, instead, he made a move to simply remove a door off its hinges to walk on out instead. To him, at least, it was 'simple' and he barely broke a sweat doing it.

Deciding all the injured humans were quiet enough to be deemed dead, he offered a loud yawn and headed past the other, deliberately pushing past to nudge him close, but not in, a nearby couch he'd earlier set on fire. "Or you could head on out with me and make a fuss for the cameras. I'm sure they'd love to see you and me pictured together~! Hey, maybe they'll speculate we're working together, teaming up as a double act~!"
 
"Why would I want to be associated with you?" He snapped, while narrowly avoiding a falling tile as he kept away from the burning couch. "I have no problem being laughed at, why should I care? I'm not vain - I... This is the only time I ever want to be seen with you in a positive light, understood? We are not friends, we are not acquaintances, and we are not 'teaming up', okay? I simply want to leave this place, and go home."

As he spoke, it was clear that his anxiety was growing. He had pretty bad asthma, and the smoke was causing him to cough rather fiercely, but like hell was he taking the mask off that hid his identity. He would rather die, in fact, then be found out by this cocky cunt. In addition, it was growing harder to really focus on his corporeal state, seemingly fading in and out. With a wheeze, he punched the man's arm as hard as possible... which would be hard enough to knock out the typical human, but he knew it wasn't the same for Brandon, and the only reason he did it was to push the man towards the door.
 
"Ouch-- Watch it, asshole. Do you want me to set you on fire? I mean, you could fade out of it, but you seem to be struggling with that right about now-- hey, here's a good idea. I'll block out the exit and leave you struggling in here, hm? Because this shit really doesn't bother me. I once sat in a blazing room aged ten while my Mum burned her hands trying to get me. I didn't even get a mark," he proudly boasted, proving that point by letting his hand drift in the raging fire without so much as flinching in response. Smirking to himself in delight at the other's apparent struggle, he did give in and kick down the burning door to let them both out.

While it seemed a golden opportunity to just head out and leave the man suffering inside, he knew it was asking for trouble... and if he wanted the other dead, he wanted to do it in a far more stylish fashion. His death was the only real thing Brandon was content to plan out, and he wanted to make sure that Skyler died a far more dramatic death than this. This was far too boring.

Once outside, though, he was at least going to play up for the cameras, as he always did. Ignoring the hurls of abuse and the sudden burst forward by several police, he waved them away, stuck up a middle finger to the camera and, just so the image would be captured by the cameras and played out on TV all night, gave the other masked villain a hefty push back into the burning building. He knew it wasn't enough to push him back into the flames, but he hoped it was at least going to embarrass him. That would definitely bring him some pleasure when he settled back at the dorm to watch the evening news later.
 
Despite his clear struggle to gasp for air, Skyler saw the push coming and, despite his weakened state, still managed to change his form once more, and fully enjoyed watching Brandon fall to the ground, even in his clearly pained state. Inhaling hard, he attempted to relax himself by getting to his feet fully, and dusted his suit off before stepping away, only to freeze briefly at the predicted press. Every now and then, he'd give them a bit of a wave or a teasing gesture, but he was far from being in the mood after the experience. Shooting a glance towards Brandon quickly, he decided to leave the scene - though at a calm pace, rather then bolting out in fear.

He wanted nothing more than to go home, get dressed, get a proper inhaler, and shove his cash into one of the pairs of boxers he had for the time being. He had to send the money to his mother fast, after all, and he didn't have time to truly dawdle.
 
While his desire was to go back to the dorm and sleep off the anger and the genuine pain he was in, he didn't do that. He didn't want to head into the dorm and have Skyler question him on why he smelled of smoke - he was planning on saying he was at a different bank when Skyler inevitably saw the news report on the bank that had been blown up, simply because Brandon was aware nobody had survived the flames and it was just easier saying he was elsewhere than making out he was the sole miraculous survivor. Granted, he would normally try to pull off something like that for the attention... but he really couldn't be bothered to even try at this point. That was how angry he was.

Instead, he stayed the night at the flashy apartment overlooking the river and, by 7 the next morning, arrived back at the dorm with the promised pizza and two cups of coffee. He did feel bad for treating Skyler with disregard the day before, and while he didn't plan on becoming best buddies with the guy, he could at least have a friendship. He had a lot of friends, but none he considered 'close'.

Wandering in curiously, he cocked a grin once spotting the other and calmly flopped onto the computer chair, deciding that he'd help wake up Skyler by tossing an empty energy drink can at his head. "Oi, wanna wake up, sleepyhead? I mean, the pizza's actually pretty hot, so you don't have t' eat it cold or nothin'," he smirked, opening the box up to take a slice for himself hungrily, after rolling the sleeves of his hoodie up. "I got you a coffee too, from Starbucks. Fucking expensive, but hey, you're worth it~!"
 
The night had been rough, to say the least. Once stumbling home, cutting through trees and taking the backway, Skyler turned to his inhaler almost instantly. He had pretty much relaxed, but his lungs hurt and he was physically shaking in pain. He wanted nothing more than to flop in bed, but knew better, and instead carefully undressed, folding his clothes neatly in the very bottom of his new dresser, and immediately took a needed shower.

He had actually slept in the shower for a good few hours, only to wake up about two in the morning, realizing he was still naked. Reluctantly slinking from the shower, he chose to pick a lazy combination of simple boxers and a hoodie he usually wore for working out - the outfit was a stark contrast to his usually formal pajama pants and button up shirt. He was completely unaware that Brandon would be home, completely oblivious where he actually was in fact, and the hard hit to his head did cause him to groan awake.

Peaking his eye over to the man through his hood, he eyed the pizza, a brow raised in confusion. "You... You actually got a pizza? My god..." he grumbled, though he reluctantly climbed out of the bed nonetheless, wincing in pain. "Ugh... Thank you. You didn't need to do that."
 
"Yeah, well, a promise is a promise, right? 'Specially when it means pleasing a cute guy like you-- you alright, pal? You... You ain't looking so fresh. Not the clothes, I totally don't mind that. You look kinda hot in that, it's much better than that hipster shit you wore yesterday. You just look kinda pale right now," shrugged Brandon as he grabbed the remainder of his half of the pizza before tossing the box across to the other to eat his share. After doing that, he cracked open a can of Red Bull and added at least half of that to his cappuccino, not entirely happy drinking coffee as it came. Even to that, he'd added a good glug of cream and two sachets of sugar, so with the energy drink in addition, he'd easily be awake and meeting his usual levels of energy.

"I had a shit night. Good thing I bank downtown, to be honest. Did you hear what went on last night?" He blurted, deciding to drop it into the conversation to both set himself apart from the scene, and to hopefully paint out his masked alter as the fearsome of the two villains. Eagerly typing into his laptop with one hand, the pizza slice balanced messily in the other, he did click onto the news sites in hope of seeing his masked face splashed across with words of fear and terror, whilst ridiculing Skyler's alter.

What he saw instead was ridicule for the both of them. No longer did the media paint them out as dangerous; they were now beginning to lean towards laughing at them. The picture of Skyler pushing Brandon onto the floor had obviously made it in, and that, along with the general ridicule, was enough for him to feel genuinely upset.

"...Those losers don't have the fear factor, that's a good thing, ain't it? Like... they are total idiots, so... it's good London's realising that they're just time-wasters and... and pathetic and stuff."
 
"Had a weird night with Alysha - Alice. Ugh... very weird. She wanted to do some intense shit, I said no, she got mad and beat me up a tad." He explained flatly, while slurping down the cheese easily. Peering over at the laptop curiously, he was unable to hide his frown of disappointment... even though he didn't really have a reason to be, at least not because of the media. If anything, he was bummed over the lack of cash from that night, but he had to focus on his actual classes starting later that evening. With a heavy groan, he climbed to his feet and stretched out, grimacing at the cracked joints.

"It's honestly pathetic, but... I heard everyone in there died, so it's not like they're some pansies. There were, like, kids in there and stuff," he reminded, while wiping the sleepiness from his face, ignoring the blatant flirts as he tugged up his boxers. "I'm sure my professors will find it really appropriate, me walking into class with boxers."
 
If there was one thing that was guaranteed to distract him from pouring over the laptop and growing more and more upset at what he read, then it was the prospect of hearing some gossip or some juicy details about the other's relationship. He did like gossiping, and that was the only real reason he was willing to get closer to some people than others. Most of the people he talked to tended to be well involved in drama, and he had always liked to sit back and watch drama take place without interfering too much. He didn't like being involved, but god, he loved being the casual observer. Hell, he'd often go out of his way to twist a story and spread a rumour just to see how it played out.

"Intense shit? In the bedroom? Like what?" He suddenly questioned, spinning around in the chair and grinning to himself at spotting the other in his boxers - he was hardly going to pretend how cute he found the other to be. "Was she into some kinky stuff? Oh god, man, you gotta tell me. Bros share stuff, right? I ain't letting this go-- I'll go ask Alice myself. I'm a personable guy. Everyone tells me their darkest secrets within five minutes, y'know?"
 
Scooping up the coffee, he offered it a sip first before nodding in approval and sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed as he absently rubbed his chest, the pain in his lungs still a tad prevelant. His asthma could be triggered by just too much dust, so to inhale smoke from a burning building? It was going to take a few hours to really recover.

"Well, we started watching some television, and she suggested we get funky, eh? So we get started, but she brought out, like, rope and whips. I wasn't cool with it, no way. She got mad, beat me up a bit, then we had some angry sex. I sort of limped home after that, but I've got a nice few bruises. I ain't mad," he explained, while holding the cup close once feeling the chilly air from the cracks in the windows. "Where were you? You said you were going to stay over, but it was only two? Do you have some boy all wrapped up in your web?"
 
"Holy shit, that's-- and you didn't even wanna try that? I'd totally try it. Give everything a shot once, right? I thought that chick was pretty boring, but fuck, I'm definitely befriending her. She's rad. Tell her I wanna be mates, would 'ya? 'Cos there ain't many girls who do that sort of stuff, and god knows I wanna be mates with one who does," he admitted with a slow grin, unable to fathom just what the other was really telling him properly, though he definitely realised that he wanted to befriend Alice. Why wouldn't he? She seemed far more fun that he initially cast her out to be.

"I crashed at a mate's house-- the guy who owns the pizzeria downtown. It's how I got the pizza this morning for free, mind you. I didn't do anything, don't go looking for gossip from me. I told 'ya. I don't... have sex often, it ain't something that I tend to get to do. Dunno why. It ain't like I'm purposely avoiding it. I'd love a boyfriend," he shrugged, his lips pursed slightly. "I'm cute, ain't I? Loads of girls chat me up. Guys just don't tend to, which is pretty fucking irritating given they're the ones I wanna chat to."
 
"Hey, she's not the weirdest sex I've had with. To be honest, compared to this guy I was with in Belfast, she was pretty tame. The difference was the fact that I was doing the weird stuff to him, rather than the reverse," he explained, while taking a hard sip of coffee. He wasn't lying, at least not about the relationship with the boy, and looking back at it was strange.

"He was into knife play, you know? Enjoy getting sliced up and all that, you know? It was surreal, for sure, but the guy wanted it, so... It obviously didn't get too far, y'know? Not to the point where he had to go to the hospital. You've never had to do that sort of thing, right? I know you pretend to be this radical, careless fool, but I don't see you ever doing anything crazy like that," he admitted, unable to keep back a smirk that he hid with his cup.

"Look, even if you did do something press-worthy for a pizza, I wouldn't be upset. I'm just glad to get fresh pizza, is all. I wish I had reliable connections like that, but all of them are back in Belfast."
 
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