The Birds and the Bandits - I
bruh i just remembered i can fucking post my writing here holy shit-
Chapter 1 - Establishing Status Quo
AO3 link | 2726 words | based on the HermitCAT AU by Sarah and Stardustz
In most heist movies, the beginning sequence has the dashing phantom thief protagonist leaping across rooftops, his figure casting a dashing shadow along the city skylines as he is illuminated by countless police spotlights. Just maybe, the scene will then cut to an equally dashing detective chasing him down, barking orders with a determined gleam in his eyes. Then, just when the detective has the thief cornered, he smirks and unveils his last trick of the night, vanishing right before the detective's very eyes! The detective coughs out smoke from around him and bellows out-
“GET BACK HERE YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE OF AN ARSENE LUPIN COSPLAYER-!”
Alas, Scar‘s life isn’t like most heist movies. As the notorious phantom thief known as the Red Raider, (“Seriously? That’s what they’re calling you?” “I know! It’s so cool! Right, Joel?” “One heist in and they’re already bullying you. Should’ve known.”) instead of gallivanting through the rooftops as he’d like, he’s likely causing mass disturbance running across the back alleys of the Hermitville Industrial District.
As he barely clips yet another innocent pedestrian, (“Hey! I’m walkin here!” “Sorry, sir! Kinda running for my life here!”) Detective Wynncraft finally catches up, catching him by the cape and pulling, causing him to crash onto a table in front of a closed cafe.
“Owwwie-” Scar moaned, “How are you so fast with those tiny legs of yours?”
“Nowhere to run now, thie- wait what?!” Detective Wynncraft halted indignantly, holding both of Scar’s arms behind him and pinning him to the cafe table, “My legs are perfectly proportional to the rest of me, thank you very much!” Like the petty little bitch he is, Wynncraft presses him down harder onto the table, making Scar wheeze, “Maybe if you didn't insist on this ridiculous get up, you’d be much faster.”
“Wha- Hey!” Scar cried indignantly, although it was hard to hear with the exposed side of his face pressed down onto the table, “I’ll have you know I worked very hard on this outfit! And everyone says it looks very cool!”
He could feel the detective’s deadpan stare, “... Dude. You look like £30 Persona 5 cosplay that got mixed in the washer with the reds-” Scar had to hold back the most pathetic sounding whimper of his life at that, “-If the 1800s called and you picked up, they’d say ‘wrong number’”
“Please stop.”
“You look like-“ Wynncraft started, cutting himself off with a harsh laugh,“-you look like steampunk tried making a comeback- keyword being tried.”
“This is a low table- I am literally on my knees begging-”
“Alright alright, enough with the both of ya!” a new voice spoke.
Loosening his hold on Scar, Wynncraft looked up and greeted the newcomer, who had a whole host of police vehicles behind him.
“X! What took you so long” he asked impatiently
“With the crowd around for the festival, we had to take the long way round the superblocks,” Commissioner Xavier Void replied, “Since your little announcement about stealing the Gilded Cornucopia, the crowds are much bigger than usual,” he said, addressing Scar directly
Ah, yes. Why was he being held against his will in front of a tiny cafe on a chilly fall night you may ask? Well today was the peak of the Hermitville Autumnal Festival, where the famous Gilded Cornucopia would be unveiled and filled with the best crops of the season, a celebration to honor the contributions of the Agriculture District. It was held in a park just on its outskirts, bordering the Industrial District where Scar had ran to.
‘The plan was going so smoothly,’ he laments. He had sent of his calling card as per usual, common courtesy for a gentlemanly thief just like himself, and as promised had appeared in a brilliant shower of copper-tinted smoke just in front the Cornucopia after the customary handshake between District leader Ms. Stress and Mayor Solidarity.
“Good evening, Hermitville!” he boomed pleasantly.
As always, the crowd went ablaze. A cacophony of mixed voices; half calling for his head and a much larger half cheering for his arrival.
Stress had a beaming grin above her clasped hands, and beside her Mayor Solidarity exclaimed, “It’s the Red Raider!”
He let out a laugh, flaring his hands (and cape) widely, ���the one and only!”
The crowd went wild once more as he looked towards the Mayor, deliberately turning his more masked side towards him, “Didn’t I promise I was gonna be here tonight?”
The mayor shrugged helplessly, “I mean, what would you steal a cornucopia for?" he gestured to the 1,4 feet wide, 4 feet long gold-encrusted monstrosity behind Scar, "Like how would you even lift that heavy thing off the stage?”
He let out another laugh and very dramatically shwished his cape to one side, showing the now cornucopia-less banquet table behind him.
Ignoring the mayor sputtering beside him and Stress clapping her hands, he turned back to the crowd, “well! It's been nice, ladies and gents, but I’ve gotta go-”
“To jail!”
Scar’s grin widened. Like the Red Sea, the crowd parted and revealed none other than Detective Grian Wynncraft.
Despite his relatively humble career choice, Grian Wynncraft is a household name in Hermitville. The famed paragliding athlete-turned-detective would have been known as the modern day Sherlock Holmes if not for one thing:
His rather… explosive way of catching criminals.
And no, ‘explosive’ is not an exaggeration. Grian was the sole reason why so many of Scar’s heists turned from a fun smoke-and-mirrors magic show to a full-on demolition derby. It was well established that the young detective would stop at nothing to catch his target, and because of it he had been very, very loudly kicked out of the police force and handed over to the Falsewell Detective Agency, Commissioner Void having thought that False could knock some sense into the man. He did not think correctly.
Unlike before, a hush fell over the crowd. An outsider may think this is because of the detective’s bold claim or his spotty reputation but in truth-
“Well well if it isn’t my favorite little detective~!” Scar crooned
Grian sighed, “Red, stop harassing me and get down from there before anyone gets hurt.”
The thief nearly fell off the stage.
“Puh- bwuh- It wasn’t harrasme- It was a cute nickname, man, c’mon! Work with me here!”
“Red I am literally trying to put you in chains.”
“W-w- well now who’s making weird jokes!”
“Haha, funny innuendo. Now get down here!”
In truth it was because no one wanted to miss the banter between the two lunatics.
“Make me!” Scar yelled, he was about to deploy his elytra when he noticed the helicopters circling the airspace above him, having snuck in whilst he was distracted. From one of the helicopters, Officer Etho gave him a friendly wave.
‘How on earth did I miss that.” Scar thought to himself.
The crowd ooh and aah’d, clearly also having been too distracted to notice the giant, 100dB flying machines hovering above them. Grian crossed his arms and smirked. He’d played along with the thief’s poor attempt at banter, knowing his desire for theatrics would outweigh his common sense and stall him long enough for the men to surround him.
The crowd murmured, some with giddy smiles and some with reluctant respect. In the middle, illuminated by several helicopter spotlights (because even the cops were into this shit) was Grian with a shit-eating grin.
“Nowhere to run, Raider.” he boasted.
Scar merely smirked back, the gleam of white being the only thing visible beneath the shadow of his brimmed hat, “I think you mean nowhere to fly!”
Throwing a smokebomb, the trapdoor below him opened and Scar disappeared down below, only the surprised shouting of the crowd following him in.
“Exit stage right!” Bdubs yelled in his earpiece.
Scar darted out of the door below the stage itself which was somehow unattended for. Most of the cops guarding the perimeter were busy trying to move the crowd along, and he spotted an unguarded exit from the park grounds that led to the inner city.
Deploying his Mumbo-specialty Hovering Board (patent pending), he quickly made a beeline straight for it, faster than anyone could catch him.
“What the-” Grian sputtered, “AFTER HIM!” he yelled.
Equally fast, the detective ran for the mayor’s tiny Volkswaggon parked right near the stage which, conveniently, was unlocked.
(When relaying this to Joel back at their base, the man only scoffed.
“Trust Jimmy to forget to lock his bloody car.”)
Reaching into the sun visor, Grian quickly found the key and went barrelling towards the park exit, nearly hitting several pedestrians in the process.
The chase lasted well into the night, and would have gone for longer had it not been for Mumbo forgetting to refuel the hoverboard, making it jerk to a clumsy stop mid-air and causing Scar to crash butt-first into the sidewalk.
Scar groaned. Standing shakily, he barely got himself together before realizing that a car was about to barrel straight into him and, yelling for his life, he ducked into a tiny alleyway.
Grian tsk’d, seemingly displeased about failing to turn his least favorite celebrity thief into roadkill. Seeing that even the mayor’s tiny car wouldn't fit through the alleyway, he quickly jumped out, hot in pursuit.
Which leads them to now, and Scar about to be thrown in the slammer for what was probably going to be a solid six to fifty years.
“Uh, could you let me up, Detective?” he smiled sheepishly, “My back is cramping up a little.”
Grian rolled his eyes, “Oh poor Raider. Would you like a hot chocolate and a backrub as well?” he mocked.
“That would be nice, ye- oof!”
X sighed. “Grian, now what did we say about using violence on the criminals”
“Shoot first, questions later,” he said, voice deader than night.
“NO!” X cried, “What kind of police force would train their cops like that?!”
(All three of them stared directly into the camera)
Grian blinked, “... I’m pretty sure thievery is punishable by death in the Dream SMP,” he offered.
X put his head in his hands. Ignoring Etho snickering behind him, he barrelled on, “Just. Let the man up so we can cuff him.”
Feeling Grian’s hold loosen around him, Scar quickly slipped out of his suit jacket and slid below the table. Before anyone could react, he activated his Mumbo Jump Boots (patent pending) and Mumbo Sticky Gloves (patent also pending) and yeeted himself up the cafe wall and onto the roof.
“SEE YA SUCKERS!”
He cackled madly into the night, relishing in Grian’s angry screeches.
—-
“Aaaand that’s how he got away.” Grian moped, still face down on the table.
“Well that sounds terrible, G,” Scar replied, faking sympathy. He knew Grian was lying face down for dramatic effect, because that table couldn’t be particularly comfortable.
He’d know, he was held down on that very same table just last night.
Only Grian would find comedy in coming back to a place where he had failed to arrest his greatest rival. Scar would like to think that he’d find even more comedy in learning that said greatest rival was sitting a mere 3 feet across from him, but he knows that would likely lead to more pain than laughter.
For him.
Yes, that’s right! Scar was on what was ostensibly a platonic date with the man who’s near-sole life mission was to put him behind bars. (His other life mission, of course, is being a good dad for his cats).
What can he say? In case the whole ‘literally moonlighting as a gentleman thief’ thing didn’t clue you in, Scar very much enjoys living life on the dangerous side.
Also Grian likes buying him pastries when he’s mad.
Grian sighed, “The worst part is those stupid cops all followed the chase, so he got away with the Cornucopia as well.”
Scar raised an eyebrow, eyes wide, “what do you mean? Of course he got the Cornucopia, he ran away?”
Grian put his face in one hand, the other playing with his flan, “of course not, the Cornucopia was too big -not to mention too heavy -for him to carry away. He must’ve moved it down to the stage and had someone take it away while he ran.”
Once again, Scar thanked the heavens for Mumbo’s gadgets and Grian’s character-defining flaw of tunnel visioning. He actually did have Joel prepare a mechanism below the stage to partially open the trap door and lower the Cornucopia down while he monologued, using his cape and incredibly witty banter to distract onlookers. Having one of your assistants be close friends with the Mayor helps tremendously in conducting heists.
“If you knew he would do that, why didn’t you have anyone guard the stage?” Scar asked, sweating profusely.
Grian sighed angrily, “Bloody Joel made a ruckus about him getting away and riled up Jimmy as well. So he sent everyone there after him.” He stabbed his flan.
If he hadn’t owed Joel his life before, he definitely did now.
Scar coughed wetly, catching Grian’s attention. He looked at him worriedly, “you’ve been doing that a lot, did you catch a cold?”
Scar sniffled, “Yeah. Probably because of the weather changing or something,” he lied.
In truth, running through the rooftops in 8 degree Celcius temperatures drenched in sweat with nothing but a blouse and suit pants on was really bad for the health.
Grian waved a waitress over, “hot chamomile tea to go, please”
“Wha- Grian!” Scar protested.
“Shush, consider it a treat for going out with me while you're sick.” he grinned, mischievous but friendly, not at all like the predatory grin he gave at the heist.
Scar smiled fondly at him, but a pit of guilt stirred in his gut. While they had only become friends recently, he quickly grew fond of the little (he was actually built like a wall but we don’t talk about that) detective. Despite his harsh crime-fighting methods, he knew Grian was a big ‘ole softie deep, deep, deep, deeeeeeep down. Even now he knew that the real reason they were eating at this cafe was because Grian felt bad about the ruckus they caused last night.
He sighed internally. At first, he thought it would be funny to befriend the man so vehement on putting him behind bars (and occasionally, on turning him into sidewalk meat). And it was! Oh, the look on Joel’s face when he told him would forever be a core memory of his, even despite the brutal tongue-lashing and weeks of radio silence afterwards.
But despite all odds, he quickly became fond of the guy’s snarky humor and they way he had a kind action behind every mercilessly teasing jab. They shared a mutual passion for many things, including children’s entertainment and modern architecture, and Scar was quick to seek him out whenever Bdubs was busy hanging out with Etho, or whenever Joel had date night with Lizzie.
Scar knew he was walking a delicate line, one that even he was unsure he could cross safely, and he knew that the longer he kept this secret, the more it would hurt the both of them when (if, Scar, if not when-) -if Grian were to ever find out.
But hey! That just means that he’ll have to work his hardest to find what he was looking for and quit before Grian ever finds out, right?
Right?
“By the way,” Scar asked, desperately trying to ignore the building guilt in his stomach, “why are you so obsessed with catching this guy?”
It was a genuine question. One that hadn't come up in conversation before. Judging by his extremely accurate recreation of a no-kill GTA V run last night, Grian was no obedient servant of the law. So why was he so hell-bent on capturing him?
Grian looked at him, and Scar felt the hairs on his neck rise. And was the store playing boss music??
“It’s about principle, Scar.” He said, eyes manic, “If I can catch bloody Herobrine, then I sure as hell can catch an idiot thief who thinks red and maroon are the same color.”
.
.
.
Nevermind, he’ll have to talk to Joel about setting up the most annoying detective-trap in human history for his next heist.
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