Foolish Hope

Money. She'd gone to school to be a fucking surgeon. If that were her concern, she'd have it.

It didn't offend her he thought she was cut from the same cloth as the other pieces of shit in power-she didn't think much of him either.

She'd get the job done. Assuming she lived long enough, Jesus. Get out now? "I can't sit at home or hide in my clinic anymore-the city needs-" The call went to voicemail. Something was wrong.

"It's late, he must be home-he has a house in..." She tried to remember what he'd said about it, it had been a passing remark, an attempt at a one liner. She'd ignored it. Of course she had. "The Glenndale suburb. I don't know the address." She had absolutely nothing to contribute here, and the powerlessness of it was aggravating. "I'm sorry."

Had something happened? Was this really happening?

He was calling Aimee-or rather, Concerned Citizen. It was a weird thing to have happen, in front of her-and she watched closely, anxious to know she was okay.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Oh, hello Nightwatch!" Cheerful, happy Aimee-though she was out of a breath and speaking in a slightly lowered, quiet tone. "How are you?" The sound of a chainlink fence in the background, of impact.

She was no longer running-she'd lost the men for sure-but she was still navigating cautiously, juuuust in case. She was almost to her car, though.

He'd heard something almost exactly like that before. From Concerned Citizen that first night. "I've heard that before. Noble sentiment but you're no more ready. You can be hard boiled or dangerously naive, not both."

"You don't know the address? I do." He was actually taken aback. Fool. She wanted to go up against the wicked in this city and was this unprepared? She had expected resistance but not violence. Meaning she had no idea what she was getting into. "Call a friend to meet you at home and stay there. Blinds and curtains closed, don't answer the door for anyone unless you knew they were coming over. And then get out of this. You don't understand your enemy and it'll get you killed."

He then ignored Charlotte, "Someone in the DA's office is making a move," he informed Concerned Citizen. No courtesies now; all business. "Doctor Charlotte Summers was almost the victim of a hit meant to look like a mugging gone wrong. She's unharmed and going to ground. You'll be targeted too. Watch out for ambushes or traps. Sanderson will be a target; I'm en route to his home. Compiler can get you the address if you want to go." Nightwatch paused, "You might not want to. We're playing catch-up in a deadly game."

He fired his grapnel and once it snagged, shot up and off into the night. He had to be as fast as he could. Even if he suspected he was too late.


Nightwatch was breathing heavier by the time he got to the large ranch house in a nice but not overly posh suburb. Just the kind of place for a once up and coming attorney like Sanderson. He ran up the driveway, noting the stain on the asphalt from dripping oil or radiator fluid, and hit the door. It opened easily. Not locked; not good. There was no sign of a struggle, nothing out of place. A suit jacket was over the back of a chair in a dining room off to the right of the main foyer. "Sanderson! Can you hear me?"

No response. Or so weak of one he couldn't hear. Also not good.

He left the front door open and began to run through the house, looking into rooms, until he came to the master bath. "Hn. Too late."

The handsome attorney was pale as he lay in the bathtub, head back, eyes closed. The tub was full and no water ran from the faucet. The water was pinkish red. Nightwatch stepped up to the body. "That's how this city pays you," he said. Out of mere training, he reached over to check for a pulse.

Wait.

Wait!

Nightwatch pulled the man's arms out of the water, blood pouring from them. "Still alive. You're a fighter, at least. Hold on." A pair of zip ties came out and he put them around Sanderson's elbows and tightened them as much as possible; makeshift tourniquets to help stop the bleeding. "Now...hn." He had his wound patches; they were sterile, had antibiotics, and were strong. Strong enough for a slit wrist? Never tried..but they should hold and stop the bleeding.

He pulled two out, applying them carefully but firmly to the ugly wounds. Then he made sure they had solid pressure on them, not hard but for pressed, with three more zip ties on each patch. Then he flipped out a knife, "Moment of truth," and cut the ties he'd used as a tourniquet to allow blood to flow fully again. However much he had left.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed. He was an asshole. Then again, she had known that, hadn't she?

His seeming incredulousness about not knowing the man's address made her bristle even further-before she blinked in troubled surprise. He knew where...? He was looking into them, she realized. Had he been tipped off to the hit, or stalking her?

Jesus Christ. She had nothing to hide, and she hoped, for his sake, neither did Sanderson. His sake...and the city's. Assuming he wasn't...

"Well, General, we can't all be as bright as you, can we?" Did he think she thought she had all the answers? Did he really think this was even a little bit her element, trying to understand monsters?

He again told her to get out of the game. Charlotte just LOVED being told what to do by an authoritative, violent, stalking shadow. "There are enough people sitting at home." The words were curt and tight.

She didn't want this for herself. There just wasn't anyone else.

Aimee must have responded-he was ignoring her and talking to air, now. Warning her. She was okay, then. Thank God. Less thankful, however-not only did she have to worry over her nighttime activities, she had to fear for her daytime persona, too. Matthews was ready and willing to eliminate the competition through violence. She needed to reassess the lay of the land. He was right about one thing-she was in over her head. And there wasn't anyone but herself to keep her from drowning.

She didn't wait any further, dialing 911 on her phone to get the two men medical care as she strode to her car, picking up and tossing her medical bag across the center console. As soon as she knew CC was responding to him, there was no reason to stay. As she pulled out of her parking space. She did shine her lights on the van-memorizing the plate. She would have Marie run it later, for whatever that would be worth.

But Charlotte wouldn't be going home. She'd be driving to Aimee's and waiting up until her little sister came home safe and sound. And then she was taking them BOTH to their father's house.

“Don’t be dead, Luke.” She murmured, waiting on hold with the police as she saw Nightwatch grapple away in her rearview. “The city needs you alive.”


//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


Aimee got serious too, unlocking her car with a frown. Making a move where? She slid into the seat-and then froze up, a deep, sudden intake of air. But unharmed. She was okay-Nightwatch had foiled the attempt.

Matthews had gone after her family, just not for the reasons Nightwatch would have guessed.

She tried to ignore her hammering heart as she started her car, remembering who she was right now, who she had to be. Charlotte would go home to Dad’s, she’d be safe there. They...they could decide what to do later. God. They’d tried to kill her. She hadn’t...she hadn’t entirely believed it, what Nightwatch had said about not living to see trial, that they were capable of...oh, this was awful.

The...the deadliest game. And now they were hoping against hope the worst hadn’t already happened to Mr. Sanderson. “I-I’ll be there, too. I think-or maybe coincidence? I already ran into the attempt on me. I just ran into a group of Neil Jacobs’ thugs, on Sixth Street. But Mr. Jacobs never held Sixth Street.” Maybe not. Maybe they just thought it’d be easiest to get her there, Safe Places were signed and listed online, too. “Be careful-and, and thank you.”


//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


She’d parked two houses away on the street, and crawled across the console to exit through the passenger side, so she was briefly hidden between her car and some hedges.

She’d been a little shaky, calling Compiler-but now she was all movement and seriousness, anxious but resolved. She didn’t want to be too late. Nightwatch had saved her sister, but he was Nightwatch. She was just...a concerned citizen. Still. Had to try.

There was only one car in his driveway, but she too noted the stain-someone else had been here, recently. The door was also wide open. She hopped silently up the steps and peered inside. Nothing was out of place, that she could immediately see. Was Mr. Sanderson okay? Oh, please be okay-but with only one car and the recent stain, she feared whoever had been sent for him had come and gone and-and-

She darted through the house silently, ducking in and out of rooms-before she found the bedroom, the bathroom, Nightwatch and-!

The naturally stealthy blonde stopped short, her eyes instantly wide with horror and her hands snapping over her mouth to muffle the squeaked noise she made. They'd killed him! They-but-oh, this was awful, poor Mr. Sanderson, no, no, no...

She had closed her eyes, a shake of her head and a shiver as she stepped back, trying to put it aside, rein herself in. She was Concerned Citizen. Not crybaby Aimee Summers, but Concerned Citizen. Her hammering heart pulsed adrenaline and her stomach twisted in on itself in anxiety-she thought she might be sick. Deep breaths. Had...to be better than this, better than she really was. It was only a moment or two of quick, sudden repression-but it'd be enough for now-compartmentalizing, pushing the horror and the fear and the heartbreak to another place for later, much later-and locking Concerned Citizen down in that inner stronghold, the only safe place from any of it.

The only pretend strength she had.

Her eyes opened again, no less horrified, but a little more resolved, if struggling. She couldn't see Mr. Sanderson, or the pink water, the blood anymore-but the image was burned into her memory, anyway. Nightwatch had applied bandaging. Had he...had he saved him too? She almost didn’t dare to hope, that wasn’t fair to Nightwatch-he was just a man. A hero, but just a man.

But if anyone could undo or stop some of the awful, it'd be him. Still. She didn't ask. In case he hadn't. In case he'd be angry with himself if he hadn't. He seemed to forget he was just a man, too.

“I...will call for help.” That tense, matter of fact tone, a little thick as she backed further into the adjoining bedroom, turned away. She didn’t want him to see her struggling to keep it together, keep herself centered-didn't want to disappoint him. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t...couldn’t handle it.

Could she handle it?

Her hands shook as she dialed 911, tried to keep her breathing steady, her eyes from burning.

Stupid, stupid, stupid of her to have come here-what had she thought? That everything would be okay and dandy or that she’d show up and knock out a would be assassin? Nightwatch had even warned her against it, and she had still come! But how could she have known he would beat her here?

They had tried to kill him. Tried to kill him and make it look like suicide. And Charlotte. Charlotte! What would she even do if she-if Nightwatch hadn't-no, she couldn't think about it, she couldn't. Charlotte wasn't supposed to be in mortal danger, that wasn't in the plan. Or Mr. Sanderson, or any ally they managed to recruit! They should have been safe. They should have been safe speaking out and trying to change things. This...this wasn’t a third world country. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, to work.

What were they going to do now...?


/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


His eyes opened-barely, blearily looking at him through slits-as the tourniquets were cut. His pupils were dilated. Drugged.

For a confused, hazed moment he took in the masked, giant shadow before him, managed to lift his head to also take in the patch on the wrist he could see. Was...he being interrogated? Or...he...had had an accident? He might’ve felt more afraid of his weakness, the ache throughout his body-but he was too confused, too out of it. He’d never met the myth. He should say something. Lighten the mood, in case he was being interrogated, or, what he thought more likely-being rescued.

“So. Nurse…Nightwatch....how bad...?” His voice was barely audible. Concerned Citizen, having stepped back, wouldn’t have heard it. The barest hint of an amused smile-and then his head dropped forward again, shallow breaths. Still barely, slightly conscious-but without the strength to do anything, deathly pale.

Nightwatch felt his heart seize when he heard the muffled squeak from Concerned Citizen. He would have spared her this, if he could. She was gentle enough that this much blood would trouble her, as well as the thought that someone would do it deliberately. But she mastered herself. Good. "Ambulance only. No cops. They're probably in on it."

She wouldn't like to hear that, to think about it, but it was true. Her illusions were...charming but also dangerous. Should he be more aggressive in breaking them? In dimming her light?

Then came the greatest surprise he could've imagined. Sanderson spoke, looking right at him, though his eyes were glazed and unfocused. "I've seen worse," he answered the man, "but we're not done yet. Stay with us." Nightwatch then lifted him bodily from the tub with a great rush of water, "Concerned Citizen, let them know he's awake and has been drugged." He carried the pale, soaking man into the bedroom. With all the blood he'd lost and being in water, cold was a danger now. He laid him on the bed and out flashed a sharp throwing knife. "Please check the closet there for blankets when you can."

His knife blade gleamed in hid hand as he cut the soaking clothes the attorney was in and them pulled them off his body. He then gathered the blanket on the bed and wrapped Sanderson in it as best he could while leaving his arms exposed. "Sanderson, talk. Tell me about...something. Your work. Your campaign. Doctor Summers?" Shock was a real danger as well; warmth would help but they needed to keep his mind active too.

Concerned Citizen paused. In on it? The...the police? That's not what he had meant, about not living to see trial, was it? They were looking for her, but just because of the warrant, right? There were more good than bad, right? Maybe...maybe lazy, maybe on the take, but not...

She'd grown up around cops. Her father had been a cop. But that hadn't been in the city. Marie...seemed to be under a lot of pressure, so maybe it was true. Maybe she wasn't just frustrated-maybe the Lieutenant was scared.

"I...okay." She ended the call, even more troubled. She...she didn't want to risk it. If he thought they might...if... She shook her head and hit a number on speed dial, one of the private ambulance services.

She heard Nightwatch speak in the bathroom, her head lifting up, a half turn. He was alive! Could they keep him that way? They hadn't-Nightwatch hadn't been too late!

"Yes." She relayed this information along with the address to the dispatcher, her heart pounding even faster as she pulled open the closet as Nightwatch laid the poor man on the bed, soaked to the bone. The closet just had clothes. He'd started cutting open the man's shirt as she hurried into the hall and a spare bedroom she had seen earlier-ending the call once they confirmed help was on the way. Her father kept spare linens in the guest bedroom, she figured Sanderson might, too.

///////////////////////////////////////////

Maybe he was being interrogated? Bundled up into his own bed after losing the wet clothes, he tried to catch on to what, exactly, was happening. Nightwatch had told him to talk, but wasn't really asking questions. No, he was pretty sure the vigilante was saving his ass, from something. Moments earlier, he had said he'd been drugged. Drugged? Drugged. And his wrists...this...they...had someone tried to kill him?

"Apparently..." He breathed, dazed. "Campaign...going...well." He thought he'd heard a woman, a minute ago, as he was being carried. But it was just them, now. Maybe-he was mostly staring up at the ceiling. Nightwatch wanted him to tell him about something. Trying to keep him there, lucid, alive.

Luke wanted to stay alive.

"Summers. Runs a clinic. Doc involved...everywhere, everything." That pretty, compassionate, slim brunette with the cold shoulder and impassive mask? He could talk about her for a long time, if he wanted to. And if he died, she was out a lawyer, wasn't she? A minor setback, he could almost hear her saying. But he was winning her over. He thought-it was honestly hard to tell, but he was arrogant enough to believe he would, eventually.

Or maybe just optimistic enough.

They had tried to kill him. Might have succeeded, he wasn't sure. If he kept talking, maybe he'd make it. Cling to consciousness, and he couldn't slip into death, maybe. How had he gotten here? Attempted murder in his own house?

"The doctor...and the mystery girl...very convincing." He murmured, a furrow to his brow as he talked both to himself and to Nightwatch. What had the masked girl called it? "The good fight..." He was tired. So very...very tired. But he had to stay awake. Would be rude to die on him now. "...wish...windmills...not dragons." Trying the impossible with so little.

There was a blur of red on the outskirts of his vision, a pile of blankets being laid out around him, on him. Oh, good-he probably definitely wasn't being interrogated then. She looked worried, upset. Hell, he was worried, and more than a little upset-he'd just cleaned that goddamned tub.

"It's...it's going to be okay." She assured him, carefully arranging the blankets. It was a very odd thing, having two heroes standing at your deathbed. "More help is coming."

Luke blinked at the ceiling, his face relaxing. He didn't think he was going to die, after all-it probably was going to be okay. She wasn't a liar, after all.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"We can trust Lieutenant Rivera. She could...she could post one of her men at the hospital. Keep watch in case...just in case." It was something Charlotte would have thought of. He didn't trust the police. Concerned Citizen was worried she maybe shouldn't, either-but Rivera was good. Rivera was...was a real cop, and she could be trusted. She was sure of it. "Police often moonlight, take odd jobs like that. I'm sure someone would be happy to do it." She was speaking in a lowered, still matter of fact tone-blue eyes anxious, troubled. Concerned Citizen was having a bad time, but she was thinking, at least.

It would be better than leaving him unprotected. Aimee didn't want to think anyone would be bold or bad enough to kill a helpless man in a hospital bed-but then again, she hadn't wanted to think anyone would be bad enough to try and kill a man in his own home, just for disagreeing with him.

Stay focused, had to stay focused.

Nightwatch didn't answer her at first. Her faith in the police was...well. He didn't want it to get Sanderson killed. But at the same time, he couldn't watch over the man in a hospital and neither could she. The vigilante was silent as he took one of the blankets she had and wrapped it around the attorney; the two of them had him good and secured. "All right. Contact Rivera and advise her to meet him at the hospital. Any cops that show up before them get to meet me instead."

He wondered it that would be too much for her. She had a respect for law enforcement that spoke to...family connections? Or was she in it herself? No, if she was involved herself, she'd know the truth. She had family that were or had been cops. It was one of the only explanations for such loyalty to a group when there was no support for it.

Nightwatch rose, "Concerned Citizen...call Rivera after the ambulance has arrived. For now, keep him talking. You're...good at that." He also wanted to focus his own attention on listening for anyone who may be coming back to finish the job. The blonde was holding it together well but he could almost see the stress in her. It was little things that gave it away; tightness at the corners of her eyes and mouth, faint dilating of her pupils. The mere fact that this had happened was almost like an assault on her. He wanted to tell her to leave, that he could handle this alone. But...she needed to see it. She needed to know what this city and its' people were really like.


If there had been anyone watching, they didn't show themselves. Which was extremely good for them; Nightwatch was feeling angrier than usual and he was unsure why.

The ambulance arrived within minutes of Concerned Citizen's call. The medical community was one of the few left in the city that the vigilante knew actually did their jobs and acted correctly. So once they showed up, he hid and watched them take the lawyer away. The man had a very good chance at survival and recovery, though it wouldn't be pleasant.

Part of him wanted to follow to the hospital and stay around in case but there was no way he could keep up with an ambulance going full tilt, even with all his skills. Maybe if he still had...but that was back at the Orrery and would stay there until he gave it to Concerned Citizen. He'd never drive or ride in it again.

So instead, he would focus on the few clues here. Someone had done this. And someone here in the neighborhood had seen it, even if they didn't know it.

Rivera herself, and no one else. One of her men she had been sure Rivera would send or provide. The Lieutenant herself...? And then he continued, Caribbean blue eyes widened on the implied threat. "Meet you?" She repeated stupidly, though it really didn't need an explaination.

Oh.

She would beg the Lieutenant if she had to, now. She didn't want him to hurt police! Would Marie do it? Oh please say she would.

"I-I will s-see if..." She leaned back away from the bed, a deep breath. She...she was Concerned Citizen. She'd convince the woman to come. Somehow.

If not...if not, she'd have to convince Nightwatch not to hurt whatever man Rivera COULD spare-or...or go herself as Aimee? No, no-terrible idea. If she couldn't get Rivera, she would present the three options: cop, former drug dealer, or no protection at all, to Nightwatch. She was pretty sure he'd accept the cop then.

Better try hard for Rivera though.

"Right. Okay." Talking she could do. Hard to stay CC at the same time, but...

She turned her attention to poor Mr. Sanderson, adjusting the blankets carefully, kneeling down to be beside his bed. He was so pale. Staring at the ceiling blearily. "It's going to be okay." She said to him softly.

He smiled faintly.

Oh, this was terrible. She had to be careful to stay pretending. Focus on getting him to talk, and keep pretending to be okay, that she could handle this. This awful.

She got him to talk about his weekend plans-yard work- and then what sort of mower he had, if he had a gardner or did he take care of things himself-empty, topics but it kept him talking, eventually-exchanging knock knock jokes. He had a fondness for them, and Aimee knew too many because her students loved to read and tell her them from the joke book she kept in class for reading time.

/////////////

Rivera did indeed show up at the hospital-she had her badge hanging around her neck and was pacing by the ambulance entrance of the hospital, agitated. The deeper she got in their schemes, the angrier she felt-at the corruption,the system, this mafia style bullshit. Concerned Citizen had practically begged her. The kid was upset and anxious, even if she tried to hide it-Marie had offered two men, uniform or not-but it had to be her.

She didn't have time for this shit, or the freedom to do it. Someone would find out and there might be hell to pay. But they had tried to kill him, and apparently she was the only cop Nightwatch was willing to let near him.

Poor bastard, that Sanderson. But what had they expected? Matthews to play by the rules? Damn.

The ambulance she was waiting on finally arrived, and Marie ceased her pacing. It was going to be a long rest of the night and morning-but at least then she could post one of her own. Her most trusted man, Concerned Citizen had said, and Marie bristled at that, but relented. All of her men were good men, but...whatever made the girl feel better.

//////////////////////////////

Concerned Citizen didn't hide. She knew both the EMT's who were on call-part of her budding network for CC. She told them how he had been found, convinced them to take a blood sample as soon as possible, before the drug could possibly clear his system. Then she thanked them and asked that they took good care of him-leaving the room so they could gurney him up, take him away. She got out her phone and called Marie.

She did almost have to beg. And thank God, the officer agreed to stand guard herself, for tonight.

And then, having completed the assigned tasks-she went into the other bathroom off the hall-and Aimee lost her lunch. She still wasn't crying, was still holding herself together-barely-but the blood and what had almost happened and the anxiety, and Nightwatch wanting to beat up cops-finally just-she couldn't handle it, after all.

Charlotte had almost died. Her sister! And the image of Sanderson pale and bleeding out in his own tub...God.

It was always the bathtub, the shower. That's where monsters left what they treated as subhuman. The two little boys, Miss Johnson-and now a half dead man, a man they had cut and left to die.

She didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. But oh, how it hurt her.

She dry heaved, stomach emptied-and leaned back, closed her eyes tightly, a shake of her head. Bad night. Very bad night. She rinsed her mouth out and then chewed up a mint from the jumble of items in the pouch, numbly moving back through the house, looking for...she wasn't sure what.

All she found was the cap to a syringe.

She exited the house, closing the front door. She didn't see Nightwatch. He...must have left. She...would too. She guessed.

She needed to see Charlotte, hug her, assure herself she was alive and okay and no one had hurt her too. Nightwatch had no idea what he had done, tonight. She could never repay him, not enough-not for Charlotte.

He had saved her sister. He had saved Sanderson. He was a hero.

A hero.

Nightwatch had disappeared when the ambulance pulled onto the street but he never left the house while they were there. He watched as the EMTs spoke warmly to Concerned Citizen and felt a pang of envy and pity. They'd betray her in the end, and it would hurt her so. But at the same time...he remembered the little girl fearing he would hurt her family instead of save them. Sometime it might be...pleasant to not be feared.

What a fool is thought that was. He knew better.

When they left, he moved through the house to do what investigation he could while allowing the petite yet curvy blonde her privacy. He remembered the first truly horrible thing he'd seen...he had vomited too. It had been so embarrassing.

When her path out became clear, he moved ahead to be waiting outside, though hidden. Once she had closed the door and looked around, he rattled the gutter to give himself away and then dropped down from the low garage roof. "Your network is impressive. The medical community is one of the only relatively uncorrupted things in this city; good to have inroads."

Nightwatch's feet shifted, his fingers twitched. She might be able to detect the signs of nervousness that didn't show in his voice. "You did well. The first few times are.
..hard. I did worse my first time. Ritual murder by Dusk, she was a nihilistic mystic. I managed to get out of the crime scene before I vomited but I was useless the rest of the night." He didn't like admitting this, even to her. Especially to her. "I had bad dreams for a while."

The tall crime fighter was quiet for a few moments. "You probably won't like to hear it, but...it gets easier. To deal with and to act in the moment, at least."

Concerned Citizen didn't jump. Not even a twitch of her shoulders at the rattle of the gutter. Very unusual. The heroine was holding herself tightly together-so tightly her usual heightened startle response just...

He dropped down and she didn't look at him at first, making herself busy rifling through the jumble of items in her pouch, retrieving a roll of small plastic ziplocs that, oddly, had a few five dollar bills around them.

"Thank you." She said softly but matter of factly, staying Concerned Citizen, the stutter not even making its appearance. Her network. Ever expanding. Like Safe Places-little pockets of allies, of community building blocks.

She dropped the needle cap into one, sealed it up before dropping both the rubber banded roll and the bagged cap absently into the pouch. Once again she was out of tasks.

Couldn't look at him still, a mixture of shame, guilt, and...and she wasn't sure what, snagging her red note book instead, paging through it. Vaguely, she knew she needed to talk to her contact formerly working for Neil Jacobs. She needed to consider telling Mr. Reeds-but she didn't want to incite gang violence, so...probably shouldn't.

She could see his boots out of the corner of her eye, the shifting between them. She was....she was glad he hadn't left. And then he spoke. He told her she did well. She...must be good at pretending.

And then he went on, and her perfect posture loosened just a fraction, most noticeable in her shoulders, blue eyes still staring at her notebook without looking at it. First few times...?

Crimes of passion she knew about...but this politically motivated, cruel attempt-her focus shifted to what he was saying, telling her. How old had he been when...?

Aimee lowered the notebook on the confession, those vibrant blue eyes at last lifting to the opaque lenses in his cowl. "...I...I have bad d-dreams."

The way she said it, the fragile look to those Caribbean blue eyes-being out at night was hurting her. But here the heroine was, wading into the dark armed with little more than her compassion, those naive ideals, her buoyant hope-and barely any armor.

Her eyes flicked to the closed door of the house. She didn't think she'd ever find the drive home or the ensuing thoughts easy. Maybe pretending while wearing the mask, but after-she wasn't doing very well. But she had to do something, had to help-no matter what it cost her.

The city needed all they could give it. Charlotte was just as committed to help as she was. Her heart beat faster, her throat tight. The talk over wine that night, their grand plans..in a swift motion, everything Charlotte had worked for had almost been wiped away. And...and there was no way Concerned Citizen could exist if...thank God for Nightwatch, and he hadn't ever even been a consideration in Charlotte's side of things...

"N-Nightwatch-" Her eyes shifted up to him again, a search of his lenses, the cowl. Her eyes burned and she had to be careful or she might cry. From the awful, the gratitude, the relief-so many conflicting emotions.

"...you s-saved them both." She wanted to tell him he was a hero. She wanted to hug him. Anything good that happened now in their efforts, happened because of him. "Thank you."

He had no idea how indebted she was to him. For the training, his help, yes-but Charlotte. He had saved Charlotte.

"Thank you s-so very, very much." The words were a little thick and very sincere.

"So do I," he said after she mentioned her own bad dreams. "Not every night but I do." He wanted to say it got better. Easier to deal with the darkness of humanity and the ugly things you saw. But...he wasn't sure she would. That powerful will and innocence made her brilliant and powerful in her own sift, quiet way but it also left her vulnerable. Every fight was a hurt to her. Every crime that happened, the criminal doing it, and the victim all hurt her. How much could she endure?

It also made him aware again of the gulf between them. Her purity and his stain.

Her thanks; the earnestness of it wasn't surprising. She was earnest in everything. But there was something more to it. Was it because she was clearly working with the other two? Perhaps. Or more? A connection? Ahhh. Luke Sanderson...was he the one? Her boyfriend. That would fit.

"It's good they could be saved. Maybe...maybe they'll be able to do some good before the city swallows them." It was as close as he would come to acknowledging the potential of what they were doing. And her thanks. "But the night's not over. Neil Jones knows about this. I'm going to have a...talk with him." He paused, "Want to come?"


"Wait, you let her go?" Neil Jones, better know as Neil Dog to his gang and the streets in general looked at Silver Cross and the bear-like thug who had attempted to ambush Concerned Citizen earlier looked chagrined. "The fuck, man? She's a skinny ass white girl and she what, beat you up?"

The three men were in the back corner of the rundown bar Neil Dog had claimed as his main hangout and point of contact for business. There were few other patrons and only a weary pair of servers attending on them with one lone bartender.

Silver Cross shook his head, "Naw, nothing like that. She was, like, using some kind of social kung fu or something. Being all nice. It threw us off and she ran!" The other man nodded.

Neil Dog growled, "She ran away. Ran away? You mother fuckers had guns! She's just a bitch, she isn't dodging a bullet!" He stood up and laid his hand on something under his coat, "Maybe I need to demonstrate how bullets work on your dumb asses!"

"Hey, Neil Dog, my man," Silver Cross raised his hands, "look, we'll get her. We proved the trap will work. Next time, we'll get her."

"This is the time we got paid for!" Neil Dog shook his head, "You think that old lawyer's gonna pay us for another shot after we failed? The fuckin' Barksdale crew actually got that lawyer, he'll just give them job to them!"

"Let's talk about that job," came Nightwatch's gravelly, growled voice. "Assuming none of you are dumb enough to make me force you to eat those guns."

Poor Daniel, at this for so long, gone through so much. She didn't want to think about what sort of nightmares he must have.

His reveal only made him that much more human. Not that Aimee would ever lose sight of that, knowing...seeing what she had of him. He was Nightwatch though, right now. No hugs this time.

Even if it was hard not to.

Before the city swallowed them up...? Aimee hesitated, eyes on her notebook again. What did he mean? Did he think...did he think violence would end them, eventually? Just a matter of time but certain-as certain as the Mask Killer?

Or maybe he thought they would be corrupted? No, not Charlotte. She was too stubborn. Sanderson was a good person, too.

But someone wanted to stop them, even in the infancy period of everything. She couldn't let them hurt her sister. There couldn't be an inevitable end, not for Charlotte, not ever for Charlotte. Being Concerned Citizen was selfish for that reason. To make Charlie worry, to know what it would eventually cost-Aimee knew it was selfish of her. But she had to help, and Concerned Citizen was her best shot at it. The best contribution she could come up with.

Even so, Aimee couldn't bear to have it the other way around, lose someone she loved so much, needed. Not again.

Her fingers tightened around the notebook. No, Charlotte would survive these threats and dangers. The bad guys played dirty, dirtier than they had expected-but they would never manage to outsmart her sister. And together, they could protect their allies during the day and at night. She just had to be strong, in the mask. Braver, better than she was otherwise. Weakness was for home, was for Aimee Summers. Concerned Citizen was better than she could ever actually be.

And Nightwatch would help. He always helped. Did she want to go?

"Yes, I do." Concerned Citizen answered resolutely.

///////////////////

"In their defense-" Concerned Citizen added, having slipped in from the back- her small hand seizing Neil's wrist, her fingers pressing into the pressure point as she drove the butt of her other hand into the joint of his shoulder. He dropped the gun and bent forward with a cursed sound of pain as she jerked the arm behind him, her hand tight on his shoulder. "I also jumped over a wall." Almost cheerful, a stark contrast to the growling, bigger vigilante in her bright red and yellow costume, the perky ponytail.

Concerned Citizen forced him to sit back down, releasing his shoulder but not the arm lock as she quickly ziptied the captured hand to the back of the chair.

Her vivid blue eyes snapped to the larger man as she did so-he had gone wide eyed terrified at the sight of Nightwatch, hands in the air.

"You should take a seat, sir." Concerned Citizen said, her tone a mixture of helpful and stern as she grabbed Neil's other wrist-he was still cursing to himself-and ziptied it to the back of the chair, also. "Hands flat on the table, please."

To her surprise, the big man sat-and did as she indicated, never taking his eyes off the darker, bigger vigilante. "Thank you."

One of her yellow shoes had come down on the gun as she had spoken, sliding it closer as she stepped back away from the small time drug lord. Now that everyone was accounted for, she quickly picked it up and popped out the magazine as well as unchambered the extra round.

"Wh-what the fuck lady!" Neil burst, red faced and furious-and also something like a caged animal, eyes darting from what had happened to Silver Cross, to Nightwatch, finally to the bear of a man with a snarled "Ryan, you pussy!" These incompetent morons had failed to kill or capture the bitch, and it'd brought NIGHTWATCH down on their asses! Damn it to hell, they were so fucked-he jerked on his hands and nearly toppled himself over-but the girl caught and righted him again. What was HER game, anyway?! Please and thank you and-just what the fuck.

Concerned Citizen frowned from behind Neil. That wasn't polite. Mr. Ryan was just smart, obviously. She glanced around the bar-empty, save for the two waitstaff peering out from the kitchen, the bartender staring behind the bar-and then continuing to wipe down the counter as if this happened every day-glances over here and there.

Well. Good.

And now they would start to unravel just what the conspiracy had been, try to gather whatever information they could.

Ryan had sat. He could probably be convinced to submit a statement, maybe even act as a witness...?

She would find out after this-the more evidence they could gather, the more ammunition Charlotte would have, however she intended to try and use it.

Former Hall Of Heroes

The princess remembered the first time she had seen this place-amazed with how grand it was, even by the standards of a girl who had grown up in an underwater palace. How proud she had been to stand where so many heroes before her had stood. Side by side with her friends, she had believed they could do anything together.

Standing on the discus now, she felt only tired resignation and lingering, bitter distrust of a world that had turned its back on them.

Looking around at the dusty, empty marble hall, the Atlantean woman once known as the heroine Deep Blue heaved a sigh. It had been a long time. Lana was an athletic, toned woman in her late twenties to early thirties, dark red hair tumbling over her back and left shoulder. On the right she had clipped the locks back with a dark yet colorful glass starfish barrette just over her ear.

The former heroine was wearing a navy turtleneck sweater and tight fitting but appropriate denim jeans, a pair of fashionable but practical flat heeled boots on her feet. Her right hand held the strap to a smaller duffel bag, a conspicuous round ball shape at one end-probably the watertight container she’d brought it up in. She hadn’t packed much. She didn’t intend on staying long.

She hopped down and moved for a sidewall, counting the smooth marble blocks, trying to remember which one...ah. Pressing her hand to it, the stone lit up and revealed a touch display screen. She tapped in the passcode as she had a hundred times before and...the screen flashed red.

Lana frowned and tried again, her other hand removing the sunglasses that had concealed yellowish green, slightly reflective eyes, the pupils of which were bordered with turquoise. She could see in the pitchest of black far beneath the ocean, so the shades didn’t really detract from her visibility-just hid her eyes from intolerant humans. And enemies.

She was a tall, gorgeous amazonian woman, this daughter of Atlantis-yet unhappy to be back on the surface and moving through old haunts, even if she was determined to return with one of its inhabitants, one way or another.

Like the sea monsters in those silly movies Wendy and Fran had had her watch.

Lana’s throat tightened. Him. He had been killing masks left and right when she had left. She probably would have been one of them, had she stayed. Lana was strong and her body could withstand the intense pressures leagues and leagues beneath the sea-but she had no illusions about facing Him one on one.

Not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind time and again. Wendy. Her best friend had been the world’s fastest super heroine, surpassing even her mentor Mrs. Quick-and he still managed to catch, rape, and kill her. She had been the first. She...she had always been first, in everything.

So many more had followed.

Lana had tried to take as many as she could with her when she left, convince even more to quit and go home themselves-but most turned her offer and her pleas down. They had stayed. Lana didn’t understand why. The people had turned against them. All their sacrifices, all their work amounted to nothing in the eyes of the populace. Why continue to risk it all for them? Why risk giving them another awful video to watch?

Questions she had angrily thrown in Danny’s face when he said what he had.

Lana’s face darkened. She had never belonged up here. Going home had been the only sensible thing to do, in the face of it all. And now he was keeping Jake from finding some peace of his own. Maybe Danny...Nightwatch just wanted everyone to be as miserable as he was, she didn’t know.

Still...he had been her friend and a good one, once, back when she hadn’t known anyone and didn’t understand the customs up top. He had known everyone it had felt like, all the heroes-opening the door for her to learn and be legitimized, do some good just as she had dreamed of doing. Maybe that’s what made that last conversation all the more bitter.

Lana shook the thoughts away. She wasn’t here for this. She didn’t care what state the surface was in-she’d turned her back long ago, both in retaliation and self protection. She was plenty needed and appreciated at home, and soon, Jake would be too. She couldn’t wait to show him all there was to see of Atlantis! It would be like the better times, only in reverse. She had to make him realize Danny wasn’t going to get better. He’d only take Jake down with him, even if their old friend didn’t realize he was doing it.

Last try, this time using a different, even older code from her teenage years. Red. Curling her hand into a fist and stepping back, Lana tipped her head back and looked for a concealed camera, propping her hands on her hips and seemingly waiting for something to happen. “Well?” She called out, her voice echoing in the halls. He had told her he was based here. Maybe he was out...but these were operating hours, dammit.

A moth would have made more noise than Concerned Citizen did stepping into the bar behind Neil Dog. Nightwatch was very good but her natural gift at movement and stealth was a thing of beauty to behold. As she was at almost all times. Not that he should think about that, though he did. When she spoke, Silver Cross and Neil Dog reached for their weapons.

Nightwatch moved at the same time her lips did, seeming to explode into violence from utter stillness. He came up behind Silver Cross, right at shooting down to grip and lock his elbow in a vice-like hold, squeezing the artery to cut off blood flow. His left hand took hold of the man's head and drove him down to slam hard against the edge of the table. His legs kicked the chair out from under the stunned ganger and he fell to the floor.

A knee to the back of the head, slamming him face first on the ground...that's what he should have done. But he held back. She wouldn't like it. His hurting this worthless trash of a man would hurt her. Nightwatch was going to hurt her already, it was true. When she learned of his plans...what he'd already done...but that meant he should try to avoid it when he could.

Instead Silver Cross hit the ground heavily and groaned. The vigilante pulled his gun out, removing clip and chambered round, an automatic habit now. "Stay down or you go down hard next time." He tied the man's arms just to be sure.

He rose up and growled at the shouting Neil Dog, "Your man Ryan is just smarter than you. He knows how this is going to go down. And so do you. He's just smart enough to know he doesn't want to be broken." He flexed his right hand into a fist, "Now. You're going to tell us about this old lawyer. Everything about him. And who else other than Barksdale's gang that were in on these hits. You'll also answer any questions we ask. Do well enough...and you might leave limping instead of on a stretcher."


Compiler felt something tug at him; an alert telling him of something happening he needed to pay attention to rather than stay submerged in the digital. It was an effort of will to pull.himself back into the physical fully. Jake sighed as he did so. Even before he was broken, he felt so...heavy coming back into his body from the digital space he could access. He turned his head to see a light flashing on one of the old boards in his command center and a cold chill went down his spine. That was from the Hall's original security system.

Someone was inside. Someone trying to get further. To get to him.

"Oh, shit. Shit on a shit cracker." Was it Him? Finally here to finish Jake off all these years later? No...no, probably not. He wouldn't be subtle, trying to access it. The who? Just kids or punks looking for a thrill?

He wheeled his chair into a pivot to activate a few controls, diverting power to the old monitors and cameras he kept off to try and keep a low profile. As he did so, he reached out with his powers to open a line. "Nightwatch."

There was a click and he heard the answer "Go." He was somewhere he couldn't talk openly then.

"Someone's here. In the hall, trying to get in to me. They found or knew where the console was."

"Hn. Trouble?"

"Bringing up a visual no-wow. Wow. Uh, so...yes and no on trouble." He could see Lana, Deep Blue, looking at the camera, hands on her hips. God, she looked good. She also looked grouchy. "I'm okay and I'll be okay but probably won't be available the rest of the night. But based on that expression, I am so in trouble."

"Understood. Keep me posted. ...Good luck."

"Yeah." Compiler activated the Hall's dormant systems, sending power where none had flowed in years. "Oh, boy." She was here! He'd be able to see her, touch her...assuming he wasn't completely in the dog house. Which...well, he'd find out.

Why hadn't he dressed better today? Just an old They Might Be Giants t-shirt and loose sweat pants on his useless legs, slippers on his feet. His heart was pounding in his chest as the secret door to the elevator opened for her. Jake pulled his headset off and then took a deep breath. His palms were sweaty as he wheeled over yo the elevator, just a bit back from it. "Okay. Just...be you. She likes you. Or she did before you backed out and stalled."

The elevator pinged and he took in another breath as the doors opened. Wow. So many things thundered through his head to say. But they all just fluttered out if his mind as he saw her in the flesh for the first time in years. His dark eyes were wide and soft, awed and enthralled. "Hi." Oh, God, really? "I wasn't expecting you, I'm sorry I'm not-more. You...you look great."

Former Hall of Heroes

The door slid aside, finally. “Hmph.” Lana cast the traitorous panel a look and stepped into the elevator, crossing her arms over her chest. She had planned what she was going to say for a solid week, practiced it mentally the whole swim here. She was on a mission. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, she didn’t care what Nightwatch had going on or talked him into.

Nope. He was coming back with her as soon as she had that old sub checked out.

When the doors slid open, Lana looked determined and serious, her yellow green eyes snapping down to his face-and then he spoke, and she….didn’t feel quite so serious or grumpy, anymore. Her old friend, her current love interest, her...well, hers. Lana’s crossed arms lowered, her planned speech carried off in the waves. Because here he was in the flesh, not a thousand leagues and miles and miles apart, but mere feet away. “Jake.” She said with a mixture of warmth and...relief?

But wait, she was supposed to be irritated, scorned. Lana couldn’t quite recapture her determination, but she tried. “Well, I figured if you didn’t want to come see me, I’d just have to come up and see you.” She stepped off the elevator, dropping the duffel bag just outside of it, trying to remember what she had planned to say, demand. But...she couldn’t recapture any of those feelings, not with him looking at her the way he was. They had just talked, and yet it somehow seemed like forever ago. It had just been...been so long since she’d seen him last.

Her heart quickened, and she gave up trying to be irritated with him, or even pretending she was. Not more? More what? He looked great. “You got shorter.” And then she smiled, stepping in and bending to hug him. “It’s so good to see you Jake, just-I-ha, surprise!” Totally hadn’t come to kidnap you or anything! She dropped back to sit on her calves, a sigh.

“Had this whole speech planned and everything. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Well, there would still be words, just...not as stern as she thought they’d be.

Run Down Bar, Neil Dog's Base of Operations

Neil Dog might have thrown a few more choice words at the girl as she stepped around the table and came into view- but Nightwatch’s looming figure had his tongue sticking to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. The growled instructions in the distorted voice held his attention, sweat pouring down his face and dampening his shirt. Limping or on a stretcher. Fuck, fucking fuck.

His eyes flicked to Ryan again-but the bear of a man was just as pale as he probably was. And this woman-they couldn’t grab her? Really? Ran away. She ran away and they let her go and got Nightwatch on them all. Fuck. Neil gave a last, weak tug on his hands before giving in to the inevitable.

“Fine, fine, the hell do I care? We ain’t gonna get paid the rest now.” He shot Concerned Citizen an accusing glare, the heroine’s eyes widening a fraction before she shook her head and made an empty handed gesture. “Sorry Mr. Jacobs. Just be glad I’m not telling Mr. Reeds you sent men in what used to be his territory.”

Neil got even sweatier, his eyes shifting up to the darker vigilante, deciding to talk to Nightwatch instead. “I don’t know much about other hits. Barksdale didn’t want to get involved with...with you types, and knew I was fighting for territory with-” His face reddened, because seeing her in person just made him feel more inadequate. “You.” He all but spat at the woman in the red and yellow hat. Nevermind Reeds-

He couldn’t keep his own fucking dealers in his own damned territory with an entire gang, and now his men were too incompetent to even eliminate her with FIVE gangers against ONE mask. She didn’t look like much. Then again, she’d gotten him into a chair in record time, and somehow avoided getting shot in his trap.

“So WE were supposed to try and catch her.” He gave a jerk of his head towards Concerned Citizen, now glaring at her. Fuck her. He WOULD talk to her. And well, Barksdale SAID to catch her, but Neil Dog had wanted her dead. Maybe they would have gotten paid less in the other half, but he was sick of her shit and pissed she had the nerve to try and oust him from his own damned property rights. Like he didn’t have enough trouble with the bigger guys as it was. Hating her gave him some respite from the deep terror he had for Nightwatch, too.

“And Barksdale was supposed to get rid of the lawyer. Everything was supposed to happen all on the same night. Send a message, he said. There was some doctor bitch too-”

The blonde tensed at that, a troubled blink- he saw it and it gave him a bit of dark, gleeful joy. No social kung fu for that, eh? “You know, the one always on T.V. Talking about shit she shouldn’t.” He said to her with a half assed, smug shrug. “Don’t know who got to have that one.”

“Me either.” The bear of a man said, looking like he wished he did. Looking like he desperately wanted to be able to tell them anything they wanted to know. Neil felt a bit of irritation with his enforcer as the heroine looked to him instead, her disquiet settling somewhat. “The lawyer though, a buddy of mine said they were going to hire a hitman. A real hitman. Used to be a doctor.” Ryan spoke up, his fingers tensing on the table top. “I don’t know what good a doctor could do though.”

“A hell of a lot.” Neil interjected with a scowl, wanting her attention again, wanting to get under her skin. There wasn’t anything to hurt Nightwatch with, but she wasn’t Nightwatch. Just some girl in a mask. “Heard he got left in a tub of his own blood." She had seen him. Saw the dead lawyer, he thought. Something. Something hit home and hard, her eyes flickering with-there it was, hurt!

Ha! Bitch looked away, and Neil needled further.

"Guess he shouldn’t have stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, huh? Defending all those whor-”

The vivid blue eyes snapped back before the word 'whores' was even fully out of his mouth, suddenly blazing with anger. "Don't." She said in sharp, serious warning, cutting him off. There was zero politeness to it, unlike everything else she'd said so far. Her hands were fisted at her sides-but she pocketed them, watching him intently as if she expected him to say more-and wasn't going to let him.

Neil didn't. He wasn't chastened, he had just gotten what he wanted, and then some. Now he knew what to say to rile her up. Those women? Hadn't she been called a terrorist, too? Maybe next time. Course, there was Nightwatch-might not be a next time.

Former Hall of Heroes

That expression and the sting in her voice when she talked about coming to see him, made him wince a little. Yeah, he was in trouble. But maybe not as much as he feared. Jake was sure she'd lay into him as soon as she entered; Lana had always been hot blooded.

Whether it was due to being cute or something else, he was glad she wasn't as angry. As angry being a key point. He knew that she'd come here with a mission and he had no doubt as to what it was. They'd talk about it and it might even get heated but at least they were starting off well.

At her comment about getting shorter, he blinked and then snickered, shaking his head a little. "And here I thought you'd gotten those mile long legs stretched some, but you're right! I never noticed how close to the ground I am."

A thought sent an electric impulse through the wheelchair to nudge him closer to her. That hug was like heaven. She was so warm. So strong too; a hard and powerful core with a delicious softness in all the right places. Her touch was everything he could have wanted. And it had been so long since he'd had any human contact, let alone affectionate contact. "I'm the lucky one. You coming all this way for me, it's...beyond flattering. I don't know what to call it." A little crazy maybe, but he liked that. She was crazy hot, why not be a little crazy too?

He was really glad he hadn't said that out loud.

"I have a pretty good idea why you came, you don't have to pretend. But either way, best surprise I've had in years." He was smiling; unable to stop himself from grinning. There was just a bubbling, brilliant happiness in his chest that kept his lips stretched. He wanted to laugh or dance. Dancing was out, of course. Normally that thought would have depressed him but now it didn't dint his grin one bit.

The Run Down Bar

Nightwatch waited and listened. His body language betrayed no sign of the anger surging in him from Neil Dog's disrespect and his rancor; not towards him, that was to be expected. But the venom he displayed towards Concerned Citizen made him furious. But he let the man talk. She had to hear this. She had to face this kind of abuse and deal with someone trying to get under her skin, to get a rise out of her. This wouldn't be the first time it happened and there would be many better at it than this rinky dink ganger.

That didn't mean he had endless patience.

His right hand darted out to take hold of the earring in Neil Dog's left ear, "Bad dog." Then he pulled and tore it out, leaving a ragged gap in the now split earlobe. The man screamed; a high, shrill shriek that would have surprised those who had heard him ranting and talking tough so many times. His left lashed out to cuff the gangster, smacking his jaws shut and rattling his teeth, "Another sound out of you and I ruin the other one," he growled.

Neil Dog snapped his jaws shut, whimpering and growling, his eyes pained and hateful. Blood dropped from his now ravaged left ear. That...that had felt good. The monster in him, the monster he really was, liked that. Nightwatch shook his head, "No editorials, no opinions, not one insult. Don't forgot who I am. There's so much more of your face that you don't technically need."

He leaned in, "Now. You haven't told me the name of the old lawyer, which is what I asked. I get angry when you don't answer my questions, Neil. You know me. I've been playing very nice so far. Don't make me angry. Tell us about the old lawyer. How he paid you. And everything you know about this doctor turned hitman."

The Run Down Bar

Aimee stepped back from the table, her eyes wide-but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t say anything. Nightwatch had been fairly reserved so far-not doing as much damage as she was sure he could. But Neil hadn’t been answering his questions. He was bound and defenseless and she didn’t like him hurting him-but maybe that was what it took? Aimee suddenly felt guilty. Her being here was maybe distracting the ganger from the fearsome vigilante, and Nightwatch had had to remind him.

Guiltier still, because Concerned Citizen had been angry, for a moment. Did she feel guilty because Neil had been scarred, or because Nightwatch had had to do it? Or both? Maybe more to do with the latter? Those poor women...and here this man was trying to dismiss them just as Matthews had dismissed them. Make light of their suffering, make it out as if it hadn’t been kidnapping, rape, false imprisonment. Human slavery in the modern day world, and the kids...

She watched Nightwatch worriedly, her throat feeling a little tight. She was sure if Neil had seen the brothels, or Mr. Sanderson in that tub...he wouldn’t talk like that. But then, hadn’t the ‘customers’ known? Hadn’t Sanderson’s would be killer seen the start of the damage? It hadn’t stopped their part in the victimization. Or the hitman from walking away. But she couldn’t go seeing monsters everywhere. Benefit of the doubt...assuming good intentions...that was what she did.

How she had to be, both in and out of costume.

Nightwatch didn’t move to do more and she was grateful for it- he just growled out a warning, repeated himself-gave very careful, very serious instructions. He never yelled and didn’t have to. Just that scary growl in the distorted voice. Menacing.

“It was the backup guy! Jordan Wilkenson.” Neil was much more cooperative, his attention no longer on her but entirely on Nightwatch. Where it really should have been the entire time, she reflected. “He’s going to be the new D.A., not Matthews. He’s the one who hired the hits, wants Sanderson out of the way. And the doctor bit-I mean lady, a-and her-” He nodded in her direction but kept his eyes glued on Nightwatch.

Maybe...maybe that was all some people could understand, all they would listen to-pain and intimidation. Nightwatch already had the reputation, maybe he could leave the pain part behind, someday. Her mind briefly flashed on Killian and what she had done, what she had maybe had to do so the authorities could find his victims and bring them home.

Her troubled gaze moved away from the interrogation and to Ryan-who had gotten even paler. He was so very afraid, and she she felt terrible for him-even though he had been intent on hurting her on Neil’s orders, earlier.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Concerned Citizen had stepped away from the table, rounded it to place a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, speak to him quietly. Neil saw his man nod numbly and rise to stand in his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes glued to Nightwatch, his ear hot and bleeding, throbbing with pain.

She led him away and sat down two tables away, and he couldn’t quite make out what was being said-but he glanced just long enough to see her soothing him, gentle and understanding, like Ryan was a frightened child.

Bitch didn’t hold grudges, apparently.

And now that she was gone, he felt even more afraid, for some reason. He’d better keep talking, give Nightwatch a reason to leave his teeth intact. “Jordan’s old man was with the mob. I don’t know if he ever got his bones or worked with them or what-but he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, wants this ‘community’ shit to stop. We got paid in cash, but then he’s going to wire the other half...WAS going to wire the other half. I got this little account set up, how I buy most of the drugs we distribute. I don’t know shit about the doctor-cept he’s new in town. Some quack. Maybe you should visit Barksdale-” Yeah, beat the shit out of HIM, dammit.

“Ryan’s going to ask his friend.” Came the blonde’s soft voice from where she sat with the bear of a man. Neil licked his lips nervously as she handed the large man some sort of business card. “They’re going out for breakfast in the morning.” She added.

Well fuck Ryan, why not tell her your life story? Jesus.

Former Hall of Heroes

"I have a pretty good idea why you came, you don't have to pretend.”

“A sea monster here to drag you into the depths.” Lana said with a faint, amused smile. For a moment, there were only good memories floating in her head. Memories of old friends and laughter.

His smile was bright and joyful and it made her feel lighter, too. His genuine happiness at the surprise of her visit was as flattering as he thought her trip to see him was. Just as talking with him on the phone always did, she felt easier, more at peace. She could coast on a phone call with Jake for a long time-being here with him, finally, was wonderfully soothing and exciting all at the same time. But there was business to discuss. Seeing him made her all the more determined to persuade him to come back with her, to leave this all behind because he deserved to. He deserved to be happy, and she was sure he would be, with her. Just as much as she was sure she would be with him.

She may not be kidnapping him, anymore-but she would be pulling hard for them to stick with their original plans, plans they had talked about for so long only for him to suddenly put a hold on them. Stall her. She was sure he wanted to be with her. How had Danny convinced him to put off leaving? She was going to find out.

“So.” Lana’s hands rested on her denim covered thighs, sliding down towards her knees. “How has he convinced you to stay, Jake? You know it’s not exactly the best of ideas, me resurfacing.” She realized that sounded a bit like blackmail, and hastened to amend it. “I’m obviously not about to go tromping about in costume, don’t worry, but…” Lana’s eyes narrowed a fraction, the dark memories edging in from the back of her mind. Still held at bay by his proximity, but there. She wasn’t afraid, exactly. She had left in disgust, not fear. She was just practical. It was a lot more comfortable having leagues and leagues of water between her and that psychopath, for sure. Even if she wasn’t up here in costume, it made her a little uneasy being where he could get to her.

Like He might know, somehow. Omnipotent.

Worse than the danger to her was the danger to Jake. He'd already had to suffer through ONE encounter, and that was enough, dammit. She wanted him to have leagues and leagues between him and the Mask Killer, too. She wanted him where he would be protected, safe.

There was no safe on the surface, not for heroes.

Her voice had a bit of heat to it when she spoke next. “What is so important? What, in that never ending war of his has you putting us on hold? On the back burner for who knows how long?” She ran a frustrated hand through her dark red hair, her yellow eyes searching his dark ones for a moment. “Don’t you want to be together?”