notes:

- Price = Mind Control
- Soap = Water Elementals and blinding people
- Ghost = like possessing people and fire boy
- Roach = immortal, super strength

new york city, 141 superhero group, codenames are the public's 'superhero' names

Simon never wanted to be a hero.

It was stupid and cliche and he had better things to do with his time than run around saving the peasants of New York City. At times, he regretted moving across the ocean to none other than America. You save one person from some guy that you only wanted to beat up because he pissed you off first, and suddenly you're the talk of the state. A lot of names went around. The Masked Hero was easily the dumbest shit he'd ever heard in his life and he refused to let himself be remembered by that. One name that really stuck through it all was Ghost. Some say it's because he'd come and gone, no one really knew who he was. Others paired it with his mask, the one with the skull painted on. A couple reporters alluded to his nearly silent sneaking.

One single reporter, claiming to have an interview with the victim he'd saved, swore on her mother's grave it was the Brit's rather supernatural abilties. Everyone knew he could manipulate fire to his will, even lighting it with nothing other than a thought. But no one knew he was capability to take control of someone else' body, akin to possession. Except that reporter. Simon wasn't sure if it was fortunate or not that no one believed her. Still, everyone called him Ghost for their reasons and he was fine with that, as long as he could keep his private life secret from the public, he was fucking fine with watever.

After several more outings as the 'Ghost' character, he began to realize the popularity was kind of nice. Was it still stupid? Yes. Was it still cliche? Yes. Who used their powers for anything other than their own seflish needs? No one, and that included Simon. John might've said otherwise. In fact, he was sure the Scot would say otherwise. Self-righteous, son of... He huffed, realized he'd began to mutter his insult allowed. He didn't really hate John (or Soap, as the public named him) and it was all just banter in the end. With a heavy sigh, Simon lit his cigarette the normal way with a lighter and took a long drag, looking out over the city from his apartment's balcony.

[member=42]Muddymutt[/member]

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —  Soap had never been one... for publicity, either. He laid low at times. But a little kid was at stake, and suddenly, he was having cameras flashing at him.

Also: Soap. What kinda stupid name was that? Admittedly, it grew on him but it sounded all sorts of wrong. This “self righteous” person was merely doing his job. It was obvious where he got his name from. His manipulation of water and light, allowing him to blind people. Apparently the people in New York were much funnier than in Scotland.

Soap managed to hop down from a roof into Simon’s balcony, grinning at his crush.  “So, who are we saving today?” — WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

Simon glanced up, not at all fazed by John's less-than-conventional entry. "There's a door, ye know," was all he offered as a greeting. He leaned forward against the railing, glancing to his side at the Scotsman. Of course, that's the first thing he wants to discuss in the morning. Simon rolled his eyes, shrugging a shoulder. He took another long drag, watching the smoke pour from his mouth and disperse on the light, chilly wind. He flicked the ash over the side, leaning his head to the side as he looked at John again. "Can we get breakfast first? I'm fuckin' hungry and I don't think I'm ready to face whatever bullshit there is today." Keeping up appearances was hard, especially when he didn't really get money from the gig. It was hard to pay a guy that refused to reveal his identity.

"Also, got supper wif' my mum later today, you wanna come?" he asked, dark gaze lingering just a few moments longer than necessary before he looked back out at the city's skyline. While he wished they could take the day off, he knew it wasn't possible. They'd some idiot in peril, Simon would try to get out of it, asking for just one day off. All it would take was a look from John and they would be on the front page news that afternoon. Damn him and his pretty eyes. He snorted at the thought, crushing the rest of the lit cig against the railing and tossing it on the table. He turned and stepped back into his apartment, leaving the sliding glass door open for John to follow through.

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND — Of course Soap one’s there was a door. He just didn’t like using it... for unknown reasons. He shakes his head at the comment. As the smoke poured out pf Ghost’s mouth, the Scotsman stepped on the ashes. He had stood near the Mancunian, watching him as he spoke about breakfast. He decided he could go for something. Though, he disagreed with Ghost on the money thing. Soap had gotten tons of money thrown at him for his charisma.

He had been about to answer when Simon asked the question about having supper with his mother. John visibly winced, leaning to his right, as if he didn’t want his left side to have to deal with the word “mum”. He recovered after a few seconds and nodded. “Sure. I’d love to join ya and yer mother, mate. As for breakfast, do you need me to cook?” While trying to hide it, John had gotten tired too. In fact, he wanted this day off of as well. Instead, some idiot with powers would become power hungry. Again. He shook his head, and followed the rather handsome Mancunian in the sliding glass door. — WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

"Good. She says she loves having you around." Ghost grabbed the remote from the counter as he walked by, flipping the TV on and tossing the device on the couch. The volume was low enough to not be a distraction in their conversation, but just loud enough to hear what was going on if they focused on it. As per usual, he had it flipped to the news channel. It was rather funny when they ended up on the channel, snapshots of some video from a witness and all the praise. He turned over into the small kitchen, the only separation in rooms was the counter. "Until I suddenly have a craving for burnt cereal. Yes, I want you to cook. Why do you think I keep you around, Sudsy?" He smirked and glanced at the Scot, gauging his reaction to that dreadful nickname he'd given the man since their heroic debut. "I can reward you in coffee for makin' my breakfast, as usual," he added as he started the coffee maker.

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —
His mother loved having him around? That seemed to be a first that the Scot heard of. Well, it was nice to be around someone’s mother, at least. They were heroes, no need in acting like they were all sad sops with tragic backstories. Even though they were. Hearing the TV... he didn’t like it too much. Soap was not a person for being praised all that much. He turned towards Ghost, asking, “Hey. Can you turn that to a different channel?”

As for being called Sudsy, he merely sighed. Now was not the time, especially if he was gonna cook. He grabbed a couple eggs and some toast. He used a frying pan, put butter on it and began cooking the eggs while  putting the bread in the toaster. “Gee. Ghost, I thought we were friends.” He watched as Ghost began making the coffee.
—WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

Simon looked up, taking a glance at the TV before returning his attention to the precious coffee machine. A smug smirk grew on his face as he heard his own pseudonym uttered in the statement by the newscaster. "What? You don't wanna hear all about how we're the saviors of the city?" he jested, pressing a few buttons before the thing clicked and the familiar whirring of brewing coffee could be heard. "Heh, weird how they seem to always have footage of us, but can't seem to figure out who we are." It was a comment he was sure he'd regret later, but he wasn't superstitious enough to actually believe he might jinx it. He watched the TV for only a few more moments, walking over to grab the remote. The scene that flashed across the screen was at night, with a shaky camera, depicting John putting out a fire that Simon no doubt somehow started. Still, he saved the better half of an apartment building that night.

Clicking the controller, he flipped through the channels, looking for anything good on that wasn't news. The majority was covering their latest story that morning, the same blurry freeze frames of them spinning by. There was mention of Roach a couple times, but weirdly enough, the younger lad never got nearly the cover Soap and Ghost got. Finally, he landed on some movie channel. It was playing the Incredibles. He snorted, throwing the device back on the coach and turning back to MacTavish, and leaned on the back of the coach. "You 'fink I keep you around to be a friend? Of course not! Your ID in my phone reads, 'the breakfast boy'." Obviously, he was joking, if it couldn't be figured from the fact that this was coming from Simon, it could be seen in his smirk.

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —
The Scot sighed thankfully as Ghost kept flipping through the channels. He had flipped the eggs, watching it fall onto the pan when the Mancunian made that stupid comment. Well, when were Ghost’s comments ever anything other than stupid? Nevermind, that was a stupid question. He glared at the younger superhero with icy eyes. “Of course I don’t. Too much media attention is never good!” The elemental controlling hero growled. The media portrayed them poorly sometimes.

The media also mentioned Soap’s father, though not as often as even Roach was mentioned. Poor old man. He heard the Incredibles and says nothing, putting the eggs and toast on plates. He was walking to the coffee table, and turned his head to reply to his so called friend. Ah, more on their dates later! “Oh, Thanks! At least I can cook a break—“ He was in the middle of sassing Ghost when, as his left eye was facing the TV, he recoiled and dropped the plates. White and black flashes played on the screen, interrupting the movie. Soap puts his hand in front of his eyes, growling, “Agh! Fuck!” His eyes were shut tightly.
—WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER

Hands up, Simon shrugged. "Alright, alright. Don't get feisty with me." He knew just how to press Soap and the Scot let him do it every time he let his frustration over some stupid comment show. It was all in good fun, though. They already got into any serious arguments these days. Ready for another sassy response, Simon was already moving his own mouth to snap back, reaching for the plate when John seemed to freak out. "Hey, what the hell?" The lights danced across the wall and he turned to the TV, immediately his eyes tried to follow and he stumbled back. He had no chance to cover his eyes and he was stuck staring at the flashing black and white.

YOUR HEART HAS BROUGHT YOU TO THIS LAND —
He heard Simon’s voice. Just what was he seeing? Half of the Scot wanted to open his eyes and see why Ghost wasn’t doing anything else. He realized that it was stupid doing that, but it hurt to keep his eyes shut so tightly. He blindly stood up, and grabbed his bandana, lying on the coffee table. Soap used his hand, grabbing the edge of the couch before his hand ran into something and he felt Simon. He sighed angrily. Of course he’d be the one to get stuck watching dizzy lights. Soap moved his hand back, and attempted to smack his Leftenant. Whether or not this worked, the grizzled veteran growled, “Ghost! Snap outta it!”
—WHERE YOUR LOVE IS STRONG AND BOLDER