Foolish Hope

[Armphid]

Nightwatch turned to face her so that he could take the phone and make the call. She was stiff and standing straight, tense but not like she was before. What had happened? Had she realized the risk to her? Had that "ah ha" moment that she wasn't suited for this? That the night and the city belonged to the monsters and she should go back to whatever light was still left and stay there?

Her blue eyes, they reminded him of the pure blue of the Mediterranean, looked into his and his breath still for a fraction of a second. Not that she could tell but she had looked him right in the eye and he felt suddenly...ashamed. Dirty. She was somehow looking into him, through him, seeing not the costume or the idea or even the man but the broken, ruined soul inside. Those brilliant eyes were wet with unshed tears and the single word she spoke was thick with them. Why? Because of him? Had he scared her? Disappointed her?

Yes, yes, he had, hadn't he? But it was more than that. Those tears weren't because of him. They were for him.

God. He almost choked. His heart felt like it was cracking in his chest, as if it could be broken any further. It took an exertion of will not to tremble under the power of her gaze and not to fall to his knees and weep in anguish.

Then the phone was in his hand and she looked away. Nightwatch turned his whole body away from her, his eyes closed under his mask. God, it hurt. How could she make him hurt like this by doing nothing? Or was she just making him aware of pain he'd forced himself to ignore?

It didn't matter now. The results mattered. And he needed to be strong. To be hard. This city, this damn, dirty world demanded it. No matter what Concerned Citizen made him feel and remember. She was wrong. She didn't know. He knew, only too well.

At her request to be careful, he answers, "If I can risk it," and started to move. He slipped through the shadows softer than cat's paws and as silent as a stone. He reached up to deactivate the voice modular in his costume and then pulled one of the wound mesh patches he carried from the hidden compartments of his costume. He wadded it up and stuffed it info the left side of his mouth.

Nightwatch waited until she should be in position and then engaged the scrambler app on her phone and made the call. It rang once, twice, three times and then the line connected, "Yeah?" The voice on other end was brusque but he could hear nervousness behind the bravado.

"Niff," he slurred, his speech altered by the pad even as he pitched his voice lower to match the man she'd caught and released. "It'sh me. Shit, man."

"What the hell happened? I been watching the news on my phone. How did you fuck this up?"

"Naw my fauld," Nightwatch whined, pulling the receiver further away from his mouth to make his speech fainter. "Some bitch hero showed up and mhg fff guhmn."

"What? Can't hear shit in here. Hold on." He heard Pistorus moving and then a door opening the glamour in the background fading to almost nothing. But he didn't see him. He was on her side. Damn it! "What was that?"

Nightwatch crept away, hoping against hope to get there before something happened that could never unhappen. "Sum chick hero, kicked our asses, hauled me outta da fire though."

"A hero chick? Bullshit. Ain't any of them no more." The anxiety in Pistorus' voice increased. "What really happened? You know Elk, I mean, the guy paying isn't going to give us the rest if the job ain't done!"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"A hero chick? Bullshit, ain't any of them anymore."

Having wound up her throwing arm with the heavy, metal, palm sized flashlight in hand, Aimee nearly choked. Okay, this seemed straight out of a comic book. She hoped he won't be too disappointed.

The bomber had continued on the phone and she caught the name 'Elk'- but she wanted the situation under control before Nightwatch realized he was on her side of the building. Time to execute her hasty plan. She hurled the flashlight violently into the empty metal trash can a bit further down the alley behind him, the whole thing crashing over violently over to make even more noise.

Aimee slipped down the ladder and jumped off, landing just behind him before the trash can even stopped its racket. There wasn't even time for him to turn around-she forcefully grabbed the wrist of his phone hand, pressing the fingers of her other hand into the painful pressure point just behind his collar bone as the hand around his wrist brought the entire arm behind his back in a swift, practiced motion-and shoved him into the wall with all the strength in her legs and upper body, her other hand flat on his shoulder blade to keep him planted against the brick wall. Hopefully.

He wouldn't be able to get out of the hold without breaking his arm, and any attempt to push back on her got his arm hiked up higher. She didn't want to hurt him, but she also didn't want to get tossed around or end up in another desperate struggle on the floor. Not like Frank. Not like in the museum. She'd really like to heal up first.

"Mr. Pistorus-" She started with a hint of exertion, keeping her grip on his twisted arm tight, keeping him shoved into the wall. "I have strong reason to believe you've committed a felony-" She twisted his arm a little higher and reshoved him against the wall when he pushed back. "And am executing a citizen's arrest as allowed by law!" She said a little louder over whatever cursing he might've been doing.

That hadn't sounded quite as good as she had imagined it would. Feeling cool was secondary to doing things right, she reminded herself firmly.

"And I'd really appreciate it if you would answer some questions-please."

 

[Armphid]

Nightwatch had broken into a run when he heard Pistorus' gasp of surprise thought the phone. He cut the call, his powerful limbs pumping propelling him forward as fast as he could go. There was no stealth now, no element of surprise, anyone would hear him coming. But he wasn't going to be too late. Not to see her get hurt. Not to see her dead.

He rounded the corner of the alley and threw himself forward into a roll. His hands pulled from his hidden pouches and he came up with a pair of throwing knives in each hand, ready to throw, and-

She had him pinned in a classic arm lock against the rough wall. Pistorus was struggling against the smaller woman; he was taller but his gangly frame made it less of an advantage than it might be. Nightwatch blinked in surprise behind the lenses of his mask. She got him. And she was declaring a citizen's arrest?

He felt the corners of his mouth start to turn up; a ghost of a smile flickering over his lips and then he quashed it. He slid the knives back into their hiding places and straightened up.

Pistorus couldn't see him from his angle and continued to struggle but winced as too much effort caused pain to shoot up his arm into his shoulder. "Please? The fuck kind of shit is this? Please and thank you and prissy shit? Fuck you, lady! Let me go!"

Nightwatch moved into the captured crook's field of vision. "Concerned Citizen believes in the social niceties, Nick. Not like me and you. She'd appreciate if you answer her questions." He rolled his shoulders and then flexed a hand into a fist, a few joints in his fingers polling, "I'd appreciate it if you don't, because then I'll ask. So. Who do you want to make happy?"

Pistorus' eyes flickered from Nightwatch back in Concerned Citizen's direction and back again a few times, sweat having broken out on his brow. His lips worked a few times, "O-okay, okay! S-sure, ask me! Only I don't know much, I swear!"

"Never heard that before," Nightwatch growled.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

He'd nearly startled her into letting Nick go. Aimee blinked before favoring Nightwatch with a small, slightly nervous smile-and then redirected her gaze on Nick, not wanting to be distracted into getting knifed. He had been ready to act, and she'd already had him. She felt a measure of tentative pride, and hoped, somewhere-Nightwatch would think a little better of her, maybe.

She didn't want him to think she was always going to get the crap kicked out of her.

She frowned at Nick's outburst and resolved to ignore his insult and simply repeat herself-when Nightwatch approached and growled at him. Social niceties. Nick had been making fun of her, but Nightwatch almost made her feel complimented for it. She felt her face getting warm again, and hoped the darkness effectively concealed the coloring across her cheeks.

Nightwatch got immediate results with just a threat and didn't move to take over, truly willing to let her do it her way. She almost felt like a real superhero. No-she almost felt like she was part of a real superhero team.

"We'll start with what you do know then, Mr. Pistorus." Aimee said politely, though she, like Nightwatch, doubted he was as in the dark as he might like them to believe. "Or, maybe with what we know. About the bombs in the museums, for instance." Her normally bright face had turned darkly serious, even as she spoke in her polite, measured, conversational way. She had taken her failure hard, it seemed.

"I know who you sent to do your dirty work, Mr. Pistorus. Now we want to know who you're working for, and anything else you think might be helpful." She glanced to Nightwatch a moment, as if unsure what more to say, but then finished with "And we would very much appreciate you being helpful. Telling us who Mr. Elk is, for example."

She hoped she was asking the questions she should be asking.

 

[Armphid]

That little smile could be devastating. Did she know it? Probably not. That may be a good thing bit perhaps he should try to mention it when they started training. If course, what did he know about it? His smiles weren't really smiles now; they were a strategic bearing of teeth to intimidate or the feral snarl that deformed his lips in the middle of a fight. No, he should leave smiling to her.

Her interrogation could use work. But he wouldn't correct her in front of Pistorus. Once she was finished, he would add anything else as an afterthought. Building up the girl's confidence was important.

Why was he doing this? Helping her. Working with her. He knew how it would end. Another light snuffed out by the heavy darkness of this hateful world. The comfortable agony of his cynicism and grimness settled back on his shoulders. Better. For a moment, he'd almost felt...

Pistorus was licking his lips, weighing his options. The sweat on his brow was more pronounced now, sliding down his cheeks. "Look, forget the name Elk, okay, lady? It won't do you no good." When her grip remained, he sighed. "Shit. Fine! B-but you heard it from one o' them, not me!" The Army washout shook his head, "Look, I got contacted online by a guy through a website for real American patriots about takin' our country back. We talked for a while, he says he wants to meet up about doing something to bring jobs back for real Americans like me. I met him at Skull And Fire and he laid out the plan; blow the museums, build his chem plant, everyone wins. He paid me 25 grand up front, 50 more once it's done. He used a fake name, Mr. Johnson, but I recognized him from tv. That law firm, Morris & Elk, he's Elk."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee found those conditions reasonable, but didn't interrupt him to say so as he spilled what he knew. She made a mental note to look up the Skull and Fire later, and frowned as he laid out almost exactly what Nightwatch had surmised earlier.

She didn't see how "everyone" included anyone but the bomber and Elk. The jobs could have happened without that particular location. The guards they tried to kill wouldn't have won. She wouldn't have won. The city wouldn't have won. No thanks to her, the city HAD lost a valuable community fixture. This was no altruism, and spinning it like one was just...distasteful. Was he lying to her, or himself, or both?

It didn't matter. He had done it for money and nationalistic hatred. He could spin it however he wanted, he wouldn't be producing any more bombs. She felt a little dirty just from touching him.

"Thank you." Aimee said simply. "I believe that's all. Could you place your other hand behind your back, please?"

She took her hand off his shoulder and snagged a ziptie-Nightwatch's advice-from the jumble of objects in the larger pack on her hip. She partially released the bent arm lock to pull it into a straight one, binding his wrists together at the small of his back.

 

[Armphid]

Nightwatch kept his eyes on Pistorus, fully expecting the man to try a last ditch effort to escape. To his surprise, the bomb maker let the petite blonde secure his hands with a zip tie. "Hn." Was it because he was there? Bombers were cowards...maybe he just knew there wasn't any getting out of this.

Transport was now an issue. He did not want this man to see anything identifiable to Concerned Citizen. Her car qualified. "Time for a ride, Nick." From another hidden compartment, he pulled out a slender black object that he shook a few times to reveal as a compacted bag. "Keep quiet. Lucky you, Nick, you go to the cops, not to me." He slid the bag over Pistorus' head and then tightened it snugly to his neck.

He glanced at the neophyte hero, "The material breathes. He won't suffocate. Unless I want him to." And he did. His experience and hardness urged him to choke Pistorus out so there would be no risk from him. But...she would object.

They returned to her car and drove near the closest precinct. They left Pistorus tied to a street sign for the cops. Nightwatch looked at her car's clock as they left the scene. "You have work tomorrow. You should go home." He handed her phone up to her from the back seat. "There's a number in your contacts. I'll send you information about training. Don't try going out for two days at least, you need to heal up."

He was silent a moment. Then, "Questions? If not, let me out at the next alley."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"You have work tomorrow. You should go home."

Her eyes flickered from the road to the clock, a little dismayed to see what time it was. He wasn't wrong. She'd promised her second graders a paper mache day. She had forgotten how late it was in the excitement of tracking down and catching Mr. Pistorus with him, or the fiery explosion she'd had to pull a man out of.

Phone back in hand, Aimee nodded-but then he mentioned her staying home, and needing to heal up. But...the lawyer. Was he going to follow that up alone? Would Elk be in any sort of court worthy shape if he did so? She was lucky she had been involved at all, she reflected-Nightwatch did this every night and had for years.

"I'll keep an eye on it." Aimee said of her phone, tucking it into her vest pocket, stopping as he indicated. "Have a good rest of the day okay?" She meant it, but it was almost spoken in reflex-one of those social niceties he had mentioned earlier. She was heading home to her kitten and to clean up and get ready for work in a few hours-but where was he going? She somehow doubted he had a crowd of energetic children to teach and entertain. She couldn't actually imagine what it was he did during the day, or who he might be under the mask. Police officer? Attorney, doctor, salesman? Pencil pusher? Did he have something else or...?

"Every night you’ll put it on and go out there and it’ll be because it’s all you have and all you know."

Anxiously, Aimee reflected on that first night, and then tonight's outburst. He was getting out of the car and she could hear him growling inside her head, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"They'll never thank you, never appreciate you, and when they get the chance, they'll turn you over to the monsters on a silver platter."

"Nightwatch, wait!" She had burst out of the car not even a millisecond or two after he had closed his door, smack dab on top of him nearly-which made it simpler to crush him in a rather sudden, full bodied hug. As much as the five foot three woman could crush a vigilante of Nightwatch's size, anyway.

She still smelled like smoke from the fire, but he'd be able to also detect a pretty floral scent, whatever shampoo Aimee used, no doubt. Less likely to be detected, the rabbit fast pace of her heart.

"Thanks." She said, her face burning a little at her impulse. "Thank you-for the bar, for not chasing me off the street, for everything, really." She wished she had something else to say, something to make things better, somehow. That she believed in him? That things were going to get better? That he deserved to be happy, too? Aimee didn't know, but gratitude-that she could give him that in spades, if nothing else.

She hadn't meant to hop out and hug him. It just...happened. Maybe because of how badly she had wanted to do so, earlier.

 

[Armphid]

A good rest of the day? There were no good days or bad days, just days that were all bad. Some were just less bad than others. More of her little civilities and her naivety. "Be very careful," was his response after an uncertain moment.

He got out of the car, mind turning over the next steps. He couldn't train her at his current base of operations; not large enough and it would be dangerously exposing himself. There was the Orrey. He hadn't been back there in years though he had provided for its upkeep.

Then she called out to him; he had barely shut the door before Concerned Citizen hurtled at him and then-

He gasped aloud, shocked to the core by the embrace of her arms. His mouth dropped open and even with his mask, his expression of surprise was apparent. He had gone ramrod straight and stiff at the contact. She was warm. So warm. And sift, with a hard core underneath the arms that held him and the pleasant plushness that he should really not think about that was pressing against his lower stomach.

God, it felt good. It felt wrong that it felt good. He didn't want to feel good. He didn't deserve it.

Nightwatch's arms twitched. He didn't know what to do. He hadn't been hugged since Tomoko's funeral. The unflappable and ruthless vigilante was paralyzed by a thing so simple. After a few frozen moments, he lifted his right hand to awkwardly pat her shoulder. "I..." His voice modulator was still on but even with it, the stunned uncertainty was clear. "I...don't know what to...you're....welcome?"

It was a relief and a regret when she released him. He took a pace back from her warily, more cautious than if she'd had a gun on him. "Watch your messages. And you should only thank me if you live through all this." He pulled the halves of his grapnel out, snapping it together and launching it, letting it hook and carry him up and away from the novice heroine and her devastating blue eyes.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee had half expected an irritated rebuff, but instead she had caught him by complete and total surprise. That only made her hug him that much tighter.

His awkward pat only made her feel more for him. Poor Nightwatch. She was resolved to befriend him more than ever, now.

"Here's to hoping." Aimee said in regards to her survival with another of her small, nervous smiles. He grappled out of there. It looked as cool in person as she had imagined, but also terrifying. Aimee put her vest, mask and hat into the white box in her trunk. Over her remaining bit of costume she pulled on a pink hoodie. She felt a little better, now. She hoped maybe he did too, even just a bit. Aimee got back into her car, took a deep breath-and went home.

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

Aimee unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, a ball of white fluff butting against her ankles, mewing. "Hello Sophie." She cooed to the kitten, plucking her up as she sniffed at the melted, ruined shoes. Aimee kicked them off and regrettably tossed them into the garbage. Delivering a soft kiss to the kitten's head, she tucked her against her chest and headed into her living room, a cozy space she'd decorated as tastefully and frugally as a teacher's salary allowed.

An older, sturdy coffee table seemed to serve mostly as a desk-it was pushed away from the comfy brown couch it sat in front of, lesson plans, papers to grade, forensic science magazines and a few daily newspapers were arranged in neat piles, a laptop charging off to one side. Aimee didn't have a television, but she did own a lot of books-there were no less than six bookshelves in the room, and a pile of library books on one side of the couch near a knitted rainbow throw blanket.

She sat cross legged on the floor with her back to the couch, Sophie settling on her lap for a nap as Aimee opened the light blue laptop-a graduation present from her father-the screen coming to life with a little jingle. She typed in her password and got to work googling. She had read many newstories about Nightwatch-she was sure the entire city had-but she had never really done deep research on the hero. He had shown up in her mid to late teens, she vaguely remembered. But he hadn't been the only hero in the city, as he was-er, had been-now. There had been several, and she knew their names and felt a little nostolgic and sad as she scrolled through a "dead or missing" list. She was too nervous to google specific names-there were awful videos out there, she had been told.

Aimee didn't think she could stomach it, and she didn't think it was right to watch someone's...someone's...

Torture. They were tortured.

Aimee swallowed. She didn't want to think about the Mask Killer right now. She wasn't sure she ever really wanted to think about him, beyond what she already had. She reflected on the other box in her trunk, the one shoved into the very back.

Her and Charlotte hadn't talked about him outloud, but he was an unspoken consideration of both women. God only knew where he was now. Hopefully dead or too old to hurt anybody else, Aimee weakly hoped.

Clicking through news articles through the years, she was moving backwards through time, trying to find when Nightwatch first appeared in the papers, on the news. She recorded the earliest mentioned date on a piece of scrap paper, then began to read through some of them, skimming here and there.

He had gotten more and more violent as time had gone on.

Moved backwards in time again. First appearance. Seemed to collude with and ally with these heroes...Aimee scribbled down several names on the piece of paper, many of which she recognized easily. She listed dates of last known activity or their known murders where she found them online. She looked them up, deciding to trust safesearch. There were many monikers that were older than Nightwatch's activity. She rubbed her forehead, beginning to get mixed up due to her exhaustion-so she drew a web chart on another piece of paper, connecting heroes and writing the dates under their names there instead, trying to visualize on paper the hero network, as it were. Who appeared together in news articles? Drew lines. Who had served on the same named teams? More lines. What duos did she remember? Googled, wrote them down.

An outsider looking in, and Aimee was piecing things together, wondering what it had been like, to be a hero among all these other heroes, to have friends out believing and fighting for the things you were?

And to have it slowly fade away, with pockets of extreme and horrific violence interspersed throughout? Well, Nightwatch had told her exactly what it was like, that first night she met him after Frank West.

She leaned back against the couch, blue eyes looking the webchart back over. It was more helpful this way-she had always been a fan and admirer of super heroes, but she hadn't realized or remembered the exact dates of activities and disappearances. The newspaper had stopped arriving after her mother died, and her father got rid of the television. Aimee had never asked him why.

A few years later, Blue Streak was murdered. And then she heard about White Flame from someone in school. It hadn't seemed very real at the time. Like a horror story. And then so many, many more horror stories.

Aimee read through the dates, and noticed something. A hero named Starlight, one of Aimee's childhood favorites, had died about a year after her sidekick Dawnguard had disappeared from the papers. She hadn't always had a sidekick, but when Aimee was reading about her exploits and adventures as a kid, she remembered him always in them during that time. So what had happened to Dawnguard? The Mask Killer had killed several male heroes, had Dawnguard fallen first? And then later Starlight? Dawnguard was connected to a lot of other heroes of his generation, side kicks and eventual solo heroes. It was easier to spot who he WASN'T connected to-Nightwatch. Nightwatch had lines to the others but not to Dawnguard, because Dawnguard disappeared around the same time Nightwatch had shown up.

Aimee searched for more news articles, trying to find an incident of Dawnguard's that took place AFTER the first mention of Nightwatch, the date of which she already had.

Even the names were similar. She looked at the scrap piece of paper with her scribbled timeline. The Mask Killer wasn't called that until he murdered Blue Streak. As far as she could tell, he had just been a destructive superpowered being and no one really paid him much mind. Next he murdered the California hero White Flame, who had ALSO been superpowered and very, very strong. The fastest woman alive, and then one of the strongest, if not THE strongest. And it was all awful from there in a horrifically short amount of time. As if...as if his evil inspired countless more in the worst of people. So many "murdered" dates, even on her short list of local heroes.

But Nightwatch appears on the scene just a little before the mass retirings and murders, working with the same circles he had as Dawnguard. Maybe he had just outgrown the side kick role? But at that point, they were more partners than anything. He was harsher as Nightwatch, even in that first year. And then Starlight died. And then people in his circle begin to turn up dead or disappear into retirement.

As Aimee crossed off names she felt more and more anxious. One by one until there was just...him.

He had grown up in a particularly high concentration of fellow heroes, and now there wasn't really anyone left on thw web chart. He was just waiting and....hoping? for something to happen to him too.

Aimee was glad she had hugged him.

Back in her bedroom, she heard her alarm go off. She groaned as her eyes flicked to the clock in the lower right side of her laptop screen. She had to be at school in an hour and a half. If she laid down right now, she could sleep for forty five minutes before she'd have to change and get to work.

She stroked Sophie's soft fur, staring at the web chart absently. Then Aimee typed in PTSD and began to read about that.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

(Double post! )

A small crowd had gathered outside the partially burned, water logged remnants of the Art and History Museum the next morning. Police and firemen were still investigating, though curators had been allowed to start salvaging what they could. For the past twenty minutes a woman had been speaking in an open forum about the unfortunate tragedy, and what the museum meant to the local schools and community as a whole.

A man in a well pressed suit from a local cell phone company had also spoken, promising to match donations dollar for dollar. The crowd had gotten larger here and there and a news crew or two had shown up, but it wasn't as big of news as so many other things going on, or the arson and bombing itself.

"It doesn't have to take great sacrifice." The curly haired brunette woman continued, blue eyes moving slowly from person to person, making the crowd feel as if she was speaking to each individual personally. Her name was Charlotte Summers, the newsreport would later state, a local doctor who ran a free medical clinic downtown. She was a sharply dressed woman in her early thirties and had a rather serious, almost severe disposition-but her eyes were kind, and she seemed to believe sincerely in what she was saying.

"Even skipping your mid day coffee is enough. With your help and Wynde Corporation's donation matching, we can take a stand against the perpertrators of this awful crime. We will rebuild, restore, and replace what we can because our neighbors deserve nice, beautiful, educational things in their midst." She leaned back and gestured to the crowd. "You deserve them." There was a bit of punch to that sentence, persuasive power, and people clapped. "So please, consider donating your time, talents, or financial resources to the new Art and History Museum. Your community needs you. Thank you for your time."

/////////
Concerned Citizen made the news again. Footage was shown of her struggling to drag the unconscious bomber out of the burning building, but neither her face or even mask was seen on tape, just her baseball cap and fluff of blonde hair in its ponytail.

There was some critical talk about police response times on one channel-apparently the break in had been phoned in before the bombing- and unwelcome vigilantism on another.

Later, a newswoman commented that a "woman dressed like a soccor mom" wasn't exactly inspiring. Ouch.

In another channel they discussed whether the briefing sent to police about the incident was valid for use in court. The DA didn't seem to think so.

Did a mask have any legal witness standing? More discussion about previous hero testimonies and Concerned Citizen's attempt to work with the police.

 

[Armphid]

Once he got atop a nearby roof and out of sight, Nightwatch crouched in the dark and watched her little car make it's way until it turned out his vision. He had to do something about the car. She wasn't ready to start slinging around as he did but her vehicle was not made for the purposes of vigilantism. Maybe...well. There were a lot of maybes about her.

Not for the first of the last time he felt that deep sense of misgiving. He should not be encouraging or helping her. She'd die doing this. Sooner or later. He should stop her. But he couldn't. Everything she said and did made it clear that she was going to keep doing this, with or without him.

God, he knew it would happen. Would it be local scum or Him?

No. No, he wouldn't let it. Not again. But then, that wasn't the first time he'd thought that either.

The vigilante shook his head. Think about it later. For him there was still plenty of night. It was time to pay Elk a visit and see if he could practice his crooked law with his hands broken in ten-

He closed his eyes and shivered; those pure eyes the blue of the Caribbean were in his mind's eye. She would hate that. Gwen would have hated it. But he needed it.

Damn.

Nightwatch broke out of his stillness into a run for the edge of the building and leaped into the night, his grapnel flashing out. He pulled up and swung out, knowing where he was going but not what he would do when he got there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

That one of the partners of one of the city's larger legal firms was found dangling next to the commissioner's window at police headquarters somehow didn't make the news the next day. Nor was there word about the flash drive that contained records of bank transactions to Nick Pistorus, the confessed bomber, and a list of illegal substances and items that could be found in Elk's house.

There was also a note; a warning that read "1 week to act or I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

It was nearly dawn when he returned to his penthouse. Nightwatch felt weary when he walked into the nearly bare, spartan space. Physically tired, certainly, but more than that. Weary in heart and soul. Why now? Was this new or something he'd been feeling but been able to ignore?

Able to ignore until a brilliant light with blond hair, blue eyes, a surprisingly curve figure, and the truest spirit he could remember encountering blew his world open.

He stripped out of his costume and undermesh, setting it aside for cleaning, and restocked his supplies. Nightwatch then made another meal; protein shake, multivitamin, fiber tablet. As always. He stood nude in the spacious kitchen, which held appliances not used in years and refrigerator that held only a single gallon of milk, drinking it down. It didn't taste right, somehow. Like it wasn't...enough. But he knew it was. His meals contained all necessary nutrition; he'd been sure. His sense of unease continued as he walked into his bathroom for his usual shower. This was routine; his routine, designed to be as efficient as possible. This was what he needed, what he wanted. Why did it feel almost...unpleasant?

The glass walled shower stall was far larger than it needed to be; designed and installed before...before he knew better. Three people could have easily fit inside. He stood in the middle and turned on the water; hissing softly as the cold water struck his flesh. He always used cold water; there wasn't any need for hot. It was on in the penthouse, of course, it would have looked strange if the gas wasn't hooked up and he had to have a water heater for coding purposes. Cold water streamed over his muscled physique, raining from him as he stood, head bowed under the spray. It traced the lines of the scars on his right arm, chest, back, and left leg. The cold was a shock to his body; jolting him alert. Which was why he did it. He always had to be alert, even before bed. He mechanically scrubbed himself down; cleaning his body. The way it was supposed to be; for a purpose only.

He dried off afterward, did the rest of his ablutions in front of the vanity. Nightwatch couldn't see his face in the mirror; it was broken. There was a smash point just in the center of where his face would be in it and a spiderweb of cracks running through the rest. Broken for three years now. No need to replace it. He knew the shape of his face enough to shave and brush his teeth. The person sized mirror across from the shower was similarly broken. He didn't need that either. All he wore was his costume and he knew how it looked.

Nightwatch grimaced as he went to the bedroom at the time on the clock. He was late. He should have been in bed seven minutes ago for the optimum rest before he woke near sunset to train and then prepare for the night. He was taking longer than he should. Even now he delayed, sitting down on the king sized bed which was one of three pieces of furniture in the room; bed, nightstand, dresser. The nightstand had only the clock on it and the top of the dresser was bare. No decorations, no photos, no knickknacks, nothing but function. As it should be.

He sighed and went back out into the living room. Against one wall was a standing desk where his computer sat; modern, powerful, heavily encrypted and protected. Nightwatch woke the system and started to work; accessing files and connecting to a system that hadn't been activated in four years. Not this system but one he connected to remotely. After a few minutes of work; a dialogue box popped up;

"Orrery Control Link Established; System Offline. Activate? Y/N"

Nightwatch stared at it. His fingers trembled slightly. He hadn't been back there since shortly after Gwen's....he hadn't been back. He'd shut it all down and left it. The security was always active so he knew it was still there, still intact. He didn't want to go back there now. But it was the only place that that would be suitable to train Concerned Citizen.

A shaky finger tapped the Y key. New windows opened with alerts as long quiescent systems activated and started to run diagnostics. He shivered and a deep breath that was almost a sob escaped him, making him frown deeper and exert control over himself.

A chat window suddenly opened, "Mister Raines, good morning, sir! Though I expect it's good night for you, eh? It's been [updating], sir. How may the misses and I serve?"

He almost smiled and typed back, "I need the Orrery ready for use in three days. Get as much done as you can."

"Tall orders as always," the response came immediately. "Capital, sir! We shall do our best."

Nightwatch closed the chat then and stepped away from the computer. Then he went back to it and tapped a few keys, opening up a call. The heading of the call box read: Compiler. The ling rang a few times and then beeped, going to voicemail. He had expected that; the other man was likely asleep now and even if he hadn't been, he may still be upset with their last conversation. "Compiler," he started and then paused, "...Jake. I'm sorry. You're right, we do need to talk. I'll reach out again later today. Thank you." He ended the call, feeling that sense of unease again.

He bowed his head and turned the screen off before making his way back to the bedroom. Raines flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. But sleep was not easy in coming.

~~~~~~~~~​

The next day, Aimee's phone wold vibrate with a new message shortly after school hours. It was from a new contact named "Nattevakt" and was just an address, a date three days out, and a time. A check of the address would show a spot in the mountain foothills about ten miles out of the city.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Aimee heard her phone vibrate on top of her desk in her quiet classroom, but ignored it for now. She and one of her students, Trisha, were sitting in two desks Aimee had pushed together across from one another, stringing beads onto stretchy elastic string. School had been over for about an hour and the janitors were in the halls cleaning up, but Trisha's mother wasn't out until three thirty. The first time she'd seen the girl sitting on the steps, she'd sat with her awhile, and the second-invited her back inside to do some arts and crafts. It was something the girl looked forward to, and Aimee was happy to keep an eye on the child until her mother could get her.

Daycare was expensive, Aimee knew that. She didn't mind the extra bit of time it took out of her day.

"Can you tie this for me?" The child asked, holding out the hodge podge of beads she'd strung.
"Sure-" And once she had, the little girl accepted it, put it behind her back-and then presented the 'gift'. Yes, the extra time was definitely worth it, Aimee reflected, smiling with a gracious and pleased "Thank you! You can have this one. Look, I'll put this bead on it, so they match."

-----------------------------------------------------

Later she did look at her phone, puzzling over the contact name. What was that, German? No, she knew the word for night in German-a quick google of it showed it was Norweigian. The graveyard, night shift. Clever. And then there were the promised details for training. Aimee had been anxious he might change his mind. She was glad he hadn't. Putting her phone away, she got out of her car at the dirty, littered park downtown. They had to get a drive going for it, and soon. It wasn't the largest of areas-just a bit of green for the urban area, even if it was often full of unpleasantness.

She began to jog along the looping track, heading the opposite direction the old, graffiti'd signs faced. Aimee was wearing black tennis shoes with pink laces, form fitting running shorts that stopped just about mid thigh, and her pink, oversized hoodie. Her hair was up in a messy bun, bangs curled against her forehead-she'd had to cut her hair and decided for them at the last minute. It wasn't too long before she saw a tall, fit woman with dark brown hair coming up the path, wearing a blue windbreaker and black sweatpants, hair caught up in a black hat. Beneath the wind breaker, Aimee knew, Charlotte carried a pistol. It was a never ending battle trying to get Aimee to get a CCW, but she never would. She didn't even really want the baton.

The woman seemed only a little surprised to see her, a breathless "Hey, kid." and a quick, fond squeeze of her shoulder as she passed. Aimee turned and began to run along side her, having to pick up her jogging pace to match the longer strides of her older sister. "Gonna sweat all that make up off."

Aimee felt a little embarrassed. The mentioned make up was on her throat and neck, covering up the nasty bruising left behind from last night. She was still covering up the side of her face too, though that bruise had already started turning yellow, fading away. "Yeah, wore a turtleneck today." Aimee said without saying anything, pretending not to see the sideways, sharp glance her sister flashed at her.

"I saw the news. The guy was at least twice as big as Concerned Citizen was."
"Yup."
"There could have been another bomb in there."
"There could have. Either way, leaving a guy to burn to death doesn't seem very hero-like."
"No, I guess not."

Silence.

"Spoke today. Donations are rolling in faster than I thought they would." The doctor breathed, her blue eyes tracking a shifty looking character lingering near a park bench. Probably a drug dealer waiting for a customer. Wasn't uncommon around here. She'd given up calling the police.
"I think I can get a few more sponsors too, which the cell carrier will match." She continued.
Aimee perked up a little. "So you think it'll be okay?"
"I think it'll be okay."
"Dinner on Saturday?"
"Dinner on Saturday." Charlotte confirmed, picking up speed. "Come on. Let's race."

///////////////////////
Concerned Citizen was back in the park late after dark, talking to a drug dealer. It was lit enough in the place for the two to be visible-the punk gesturing as he spoke about something or other, and the masked woman dressed in red and yellow nodding along and taking notes. Who knew what that was about.

She stayed home the next night, calling Elk's law firm under false pretenses and being told he was out of office and would be for a while. Taking on a concerned, anxious tone of voice and asking if he'd been injured, Aimee had gotten the secretary to reveal he'd been arrested-but wasn't in any sort of ill shape. The law firm was refusing to take his case though. Thoughtfully, Aimee hung up the phone and considered the information, turning in early to catch up on her lost sleep.

The third day, a Saturday, she was at her father's house, making dinner. Her sister pulled in around four thirty and the three of them played Yahtzee and talked about the clinic, Aimee's class, and their father's new hobby of watch repair. He had long since retired from his days as a police officer, and was always taking up some new hobby or another. A few hours later it was time to go, the usual round of hugs and good byes-and then it was just Aimee and Charlotte in the driveway, talking in low tones.

"I just don't know how to feel about it, Aimee. I think he's dangerous. If nothing else, it'll ding your reputation." Charlotte crossed her arms, studying her much younger, shorter sister closely. Nightwatch was no one to mess with, in her opinion. He was out of control and if she had it her way would be locked up for a long, long time. How long would it be before he was straight up murdering people? She didn't want Aimee hanging around with potentially mentally unbalanced, Olympian strength monsters.

Perhaps she was being a little harsh, but he was just one more thing adding to the ugly, in Charlotte's mind. People were afraid of him. She had personally seen the results of his vigilantism in her clinic-his brutality. Too many people. More force than he had to use, broken bones, faces and teeth. She didn't say this to Aimee. She knew how much she looked up to the old heroes, and to him. Honestly, there probably wasn't much point, anyway.

"He's been at it a long time Charlie. He has experience and knowledge I don't have and am going to need. You weren't there when I was fighting Frank West. It was..." She watched her sister's eyes avert themselves, a bit of fidgeting with her hands. Frank West. Okay, maybe that was someone who deserved to be shot. She had fussed and fretted over the roughed up would be hero that same morning. Charlotte had been so upset. She had tried to convince Aimee again that hero-ing wasn't such a good idea and wouldn't be necessary for their grand plans.

"I mean, he tried to get me to stop. He doesn't want me out there. I don't see how he would be a bad influence either-it's not like I'm prone to peer pressure." Aimee continued. "Besides-I think he needs...I don't know, a friend. I'm worried about him."

Charlotte shook her head. Well, of course she was. Only Aimee would look at a crazed god damned lunatic and see something good there, look for a way to help. Charlotte huffed, looking across their father's property angrily before back to Aimee, the girl's blue eyes, like her own, a gift from their mother. Aimee was a lot like her, actually. Blonde, small and dangerously soft hearted. Charlotte drew her into a tight hug.

"Fine. Just...just be careful. Don't follow him into anything too dangerous, if you guys go out at night. Remember, you're not out there to defeat evil or what have you. You're out there to create good." Her only sister. Her baby sister. Charlotte felt an awful sort of anxiety in her chest. If she had it her way, Aimee wouldn't be donning a mask and going out at night. In a perfect world, she'd be living at home taking care of shelter animals, something like that.

But it wasn't a perfect world. And Aimee was just as committed to bettering the city as she was. They couldn't save the world, and maybe not even the city-but little pockets, little spaces of hope were better than nothing. They could make some sort of difference. Even if only for a few, for while. Besides-Aimee wasn't a little girl anymore. She was full grown and had a right to make decisions for herself.

"Just...don't set yourself on fire Aimee...it won't keep anybody warm for very long." They separated, and Charlotte waved as Aimee got into her car and pulled away, the little blue bug's taillights disappearing down the dusty driveway.

At least training with that...Nightwatch meant she'd be inside somewhere, hopefully, and not out against fucks like Frank West. Assuming Nightwatch wasn't a threat to her, anyway. Aimee wouldn't tell her where she was going, only that she would call in the morning. Charlotte took a deep breath. She had a lot to do tomorrow, as always, and couldn't live both their lives-she was just going to have to trust Aimee knew what she was doing.

Walking briskly to her own car-a boring tan buick she'd been driving for nearly ten years, kept in nice condition-Charlotte started on the way home in the city.

 

[Armphid]

He felt naked and exposed. His outfit was silly and fit snug but the material was unusual, wholly inappropriate, he felt.

Nightwatch sat at the corner table of a bustling trendy coffer shop. He was dressed in a tight fitting long sleeved grey shirt of plain jersey material and a pair of jeans that hugged his legs, simple slip on shoes on his feet. His right leg bounced nervously under the table and he turned the cup of coffee he'd ordered in his hands over and over, not yet having drunk from it. He hadn't been out of his penthouse in clothes other than his costume in two years. This...this just wasn't right.

Damn it. Damn it! Why couldn't they have talked remotely? That would have been best. Instead of being here, out in all of this....this without his costume, his tools, his weapons. Well. He did have a few on him but it wasn't the same. And shoes instead of his boots! What if he had to kick someone?

"Well, call me a tap dancer. You actually showed." Jake Jackson was a biracial man with dusky skin, close cropped curly black hair and dark eyes behind his glasses, and a tightly controlled beard. He was wearing a simple blue button down over a Star Wars t-shirt as he rolled up in his wheelchair, jeans on his immobile legs and slippers on his feet. "You look good, man. Like you're about to jump out of your skin but good."

"Comp...Jake," he corrected. "You look...good," Nightwatch responded in an uncertain tone.

The once superhero turned hero information broker and networker shook his head, "You're really bad at this. Who'd have thought you were the so is butterfly with the girls hanging off you and I was the awkward one?"

Nightwatch grimaced, ""You grew into your confidence at the end."

"Yeah, because of Tomoko," Jake sighed sadly. He waved a waitress over to order a drink and a scone. After she left the table, he looked back at his one-time teammate and friend. "You remember the first time we took Deep Blue to the coffee shop?"

Nightwatch growled, "She went back to Atlantis and the coffee shop was bought by a chain of liquor stores. They're both gone." His hand tightened on the coffee cup, "I didn't come here to reminisce. You wanted to talk, let's talk. Otherwise we both have better things to do."

Jake just shook his head again. The two sat in silence until the waitress brought him his order. He thanked her and then pulled a metal cube about two inches in diameter and set it on the table, pressing one of the sides to activate it. "I'm not going to argue with you but maybe it'd do you some good to just have coffee with an old friend and catch up. But, we won't. I'm not going to twist your arm. Everyone around is going to hear us talking sports." He took a long sip of a huge frappe and then set it down. "So. The girl in red."

Nightwatch nodded. "Concerned Citizen." Jake gave a little laugh and smile at that. "I'm going to train her. We may work together. It remains to be seen."

"She's on the Internet already. And the news."

"Yes."

"The news is just local now but it won't stay that way. No woman's been out there in a mask for years."

"Yes."

"The more she does, the more she's seen, the bigger her footprint on the Net will be."

"Yes."

Jake frowned and leaned forward, grabbing Nightwatch's left wrist, "Shit, don't you get it? He'll see!"

Nightwatch closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes," he answered in a dull voice.

Jake was breathing faster, his eyes afraid. "He'll come. He won't be able to resist."

"Yes."

"He'll kill you."

"Yes."

"Then he'll take that girl, and-"

"No." Nightwatch opened his eyes. "No, he won't. Not this time."

"We've been down this road," the technopath said, stabbing a finger on the tabletop. "You and me, we promised each other, we swore we wouldn't let her die. Remember? You remember how it went too, don't you? I ended up in this chair after lying there, having to watch what he did to her!" His voice almost broke and he slammed a whole hand down on the table. "What makes you think this will be any different?"

"I'm not going to stop him," Nightwatch answered. "I'm going to kill him." He could almost hear Gwen turning over in her grave.

Jake stared at him. "You're going to...you think you can?"

Nightwatch grimaced, "I have four plans that I'm going to start developing again. ...I can't be sure. But I will kill him. There's nothing else for me." He could see those blue eyes in his mind's eye; disappointed and disgusted. Worth it, if it meant she would live.

Jake shook his head again. "It won't work. Nothing has ever worked. ...God, I hope you can do it."

The two men were silent for another few minutes. Then Jake spoke again, "There was another reason I wanted to talk."

"Yes. You're leaving." Nightwatch leaned back into his chair. He suddenly felt tired.

Jake gave a weary half-smile, "You and that detective shit. How'd you know?"

Nightwatch shrugged, "You haven't wanted to meet in person since the funeral. You were more insistent than I was back then. You also mentioned Deep Blue. She's been in touch?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand over his scalp. "We've been chatting lately, reconnecting. Seems like she talked to her Dad about me and my powers and it seems the king of Atlantis could use someone like me."

"So can we," Nightwatch said but without any heat.

"I know. I know. But...I'm just so tired of it all." He sighed. "All the information I sort and compile, the things I read and see...I just...I can't do it much longer. And if He comes back...I can't watch him kill you. Or what he'll do to that girl."

Nightwatch didn't answer right away. He sat, turning his cup. "You have been invaluable." And now he was going to retire, run, and hide. Another light choosing to put itself out. "It'll be harder. That's fine. When?"

The other man shook his head, "A few months, we haven't set the date yet. ...Danny. I'm sorry, I don't want to run out on you."

"Do what you have to." Run and leave us, you coward. That's what he wanted to say. But who among those left had earned an out more than Compiler? "That's it then?"

"Yeah," Jake answered miserably. "I wanted to tell you in person."

"Good. Thank you." Nightwatch rose. He would probably never see his old friend in the flesh again. "We'll talk on the channel. But...good bye then." He strode away, leaving his untouched coffee behind, before the other man could reach out to grab him or say anything further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

The night wind stank, blowing the wretched, polluted musk over him as he swung through the streets. The city was quiet tonight. It infuriated him. When he most wanted something, anything, to bring his wrath down upon, all was still.

But it couldn't be. There was always something going on. Something wicked, furtive, hidden. Normally he would check with Compiler for leads...but he wouldn't tonight. He'd have to get used to being truly on his own.

Concerned Citizen...she'd say he wasn't alone. She was wrong. Even if she were here, he'd be alone. Nothing so darksome as he could ever really stand beside someone so pure.

A scream ripped through the night and he couldn't help but feel relief. A second grapnel flashed out and fired, allowing him to pivot and swing towards the frantic cries for help.

"Fire! Fire, help!" A girl who looked about ten in a knee length nightgown was running from a dingy, droopy roofed house, waving her arms. "Somebody, please call the firemen!"

Nightwatch almost felt disappointed but swung down in front of the running girl. She skidded to a halt with huge eyes, her lower lip quivering. "Which house is yours?" The girl trembled, lifting a hand to point back where she'd come, "How many inside?"

"M-m-my Momma, my big brother, little sister, the baby, Gramma, and Rufus!"

"Stay off the street," he ordered and started to run to the house.

The girl charged after him, "No, you can't, you'll hurt 'em! Don't hurt my family! You stay away, Nightwatch, I'll-I'll call the firemen, you stay away!"

He lost a step. This child...she thought he was more dangerous than the fire? He turned and glowered down at her, "Stay here!" Then he charged into the house, pulling his rebreather from it's hidden compartment and tapping his earbud.

"911, pleas-"

"Put me on hold and I'll find you," he interrupted, "Fire at 33547 Glenmawr, risk of spreading to nearby properties, get a truck here stat. At least two emergency squads; up to 6 injured."

"What the-and who is this, please?"

"Nightwatch," he snarled. There was smoke and heat but it wasn't an inferno yet. "If they're not here in five minutes, I'll find you. Your call center is 66 West Cicero; don't push it." Then he cut the line.

The next few minutes were dirty, hot, and hard. He found the mother and brother trying to fight the fire in the kitchen and losing badly as it roared up the walls. He charged past them to knock the back door off it's hinges. The two people stared in shock. The vigilante pointed out the door and then rushed back into the house. Upstairs, he heard a child coughing behind a door. A shoulder cracked the thin, flimsy wood and he then drove his hands into the crack, ripping it apart. A small child was holding onto the sides of a crib, an older woman slumped in a chair trying to breathe. Nightwatch rushed in and bent down, scooping up the little girl and the baby.

Outside, the mother and brother had come around to the front of the house, embracing the little girl. One of the gabled windows on the second floor suddenly blew out, raising screams. By now, many of the street's other residents were out on their porches and stoops, watching. The rear part of the house was now visibly aflame, smoke billowing up into the night sky. Out of the burst window, the city's infamous vigilante stepped out onto the sagging porch roof, the little girl cradling the wailing baby in her arms and her grandmother clinging to Nightwatch's broad shoulders. The family members on the lawn surged forward to reach up as he lowered the girl and infant down to their mother.

Nightwatch swung the older black woman from his back. "Don't you let me fall now, you devil" she sobbed, "Don't you lead me to free air just to drop me now!"

"Don't tempt me," he answered with a grunt. Nightwatch then lowered her down slowly to the teenage brother who took hold of her and then grunting under her weight as the vigilante let her go. Sirens started to be heard in the near distance.

The little girl who had been running down the street was looking around, "Rufus? Where's Rufus? He was in my room!"

Nightwatch grimaced and turned to run back into the house. The family clustered together on the sidewalk, watching as the flames swept the house further. After another minute, Nightwatch leaped out of the same window ahead of a gout of flame. His arms were held to his chest as he tumbled off the roof and down onto the lawn. He lay there a few moments, breathing heavy and coughing. He then slowly sat up. The family backed away as he stood up and approached, save for the girl whose cries had alerted him. He pulled his arms away from his body and held out a squirming, plaintively mewing kitten.

"Rufus!" The girl squealed and snatched up the pet. Flashing lights pulled everyone's eyes as the fire engine and an ambulance turning the far corner of the street, sirens blaring. The girl then turned back, "Maybe you're not so, huh?" The vigilante was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Several streets away, atop a worn apartment building, Nightwatch slumped against a wall. He sat for a few moments and then tabbed his earbud, "Compiler."

After a few moments, the line picked up. "Nightwatch! I just saw something come across the wire. A house on-"

"Yes, it was me. Not her." She would have though. "Beating people up is a hell of a lot easier. Speaking of which...how's the landlord for that property?"

~~~~~~~~~​

Today was the day. Nightwatch had sent a new set of texts with directions to guide Concerned Citizen to a hidden entrance to where they'd be training. He waited there for her, senses straining to hear the noise of her car approaching. He was by a sheer rock face of a low mountain at the bottom of which was a large house with generous grounds, all surrounded by a high wall.

The directions he gave would lead her past the house and up a slope to where Nightwatch waited at a surprisingly flat spot.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

It was a large property, and if she were honest-kind of a little spooky. But that was where her instructions had said to meet, so here she was. Early, exactly ten minutes on the nose, in fact. The little blue bug was sporting a fogged license plate cover now-which concealed the fact it was a computer print out she now used when she was going places in costume.

An effective, if kludged solution. Aaaaand illegal, but Aimee was doing her best.

Rather, Concerned Citizen was doing her best. Aimee Summers didn't break the law. Convenient scapegoat, those secret identities.

She unbuckled her seat belt and waved at Nightwatch, grabbing a Christmas tupperware container off the passenger seat before she slipped out of the car.

Her shoes weren't yellow, but black. Seems the melted sneakers hadn't been replaced yet. As if to make up for this, Aimee had switched the laces of her normal tennis shoes with yellow ones, so that they almost went with her costume.

"Hello!" She greeted him brightly, pausing in the open door of her car to smile at him.

 

[Armphid]

The little blue car looked incongruous here. Much as it did in many parts of the city. Even if she fixed the license plate issue, it would still be a traceable vehicle if anyone started trying to track her in earnest. Like Him.

Later. Once she'd either improved or bailed because the training was so hard. If she stayed...they'd have to talk about the car.

Her little wave disarmed him. How did she do that? Nightwatch raised a hand awkwardly and leaned off the rock face as she approached. Under his mask, he raised an eyebrow. What was in the box? Her greeting and smile further nudged him...just...what? "...Hello?"

The vigilante shook his head ever so slightly. He had to take back the initiative. "This is the entrance you'll use when we train." The broad shouldered man reached out and placed a hand on the cliff face about mid chest height for himself. Nightwatch pressed gently and the rock pushed in and slid aside to reveal a keypad and a small camera. "You'll receive your code and some additional items when we finish today." There were other entranced, of course. She could learn about them over time or ask the staff. He tapped a few keys in rapid succession and then a door slid open on the rock face. "This way."

The door opened into an elevator with four buttons; the bottom one was lit. He tapped the second highest once she was in. The door closed and there was the mechanical sound of the winch system before it began to go upwards. "There's nothing on the lowest level but access points. Everything important is higher." The higher levels had independent access points too. But again, she could learn that or not on her own. How much she investigated and discovered was a sort of assessment in itself.

The elevator halted at the 3rd floor and the door opened. Nightwatch stepped out, "This place was called The Orrery. That name will serve for now." The elevator opened out into a massive space; much of the mountain had been removed and in it's place was a headquarters any vigilante would be proud of. It was designed on the idea of an orrery, a physical or mechanical representation of the solar system. It was a series of ring-like areas all around a central round structure. The "Sun" section contained the main computer creche, charging stations, the garage for the Shooting Star, and the hand to hand practice areas. The rings had different equipment and purposes; gear storage and research on the first ring, medical on the second, forensics on the third, gear testing ranges on the fourth, obstacle courses and test tracks on the fifth, and so on. The elevator went up to the records and storage above it all. Beams of steel braced the walls and firmed the high arched roof. Lights shone brightly. Most of the walls were bare rock with conduits and pipes against them but the west wall that looked down on the house and grounds below was actually a set of one way windows, giving a tremendous view of the entire area. Even the city could be seen sprawling out in the near distance.

He used to feel excitement, even wonder coming in here. Now he just felt uncertainty and guilt. His body was tense as he walked out into the cavernous space. He could almost hear Gwen's voice...

Thankfully, another one intruded. "Mister Nightwatch, wonderful!" The voice came from above; it was masculine and boisterous, with a tinny, radio quality to it and a slight British accent. He looked up, glad that he had instructed the caretakers not to use anything but his current codename and not to refer to Gwen by any of her names if she came up. Floating down from above was a robot; the main body was a sphere and three feet in diameter set in a stationary ring that held the primary lift thruster, smaller movement thrusters at various points on the ring and the sphere. Seven arms protruded from the spheres, moving over the surface on separate tracks, three ending in four fingered gripping and manipulating hands, the rest having tools affixed. Near the top of the sphere were a trio of cameras atop flexible mounts; one of which had oriented on Nightwatch and another on Concerned Citizen. It was painted a twilight purple color, with highlights in a lighter blue. "It's been [redacted], sir! You're looking well. And this is...?"

"Concerned Citizen. You've been updated," he answered.

"Well, yes, but no reason not to have manners, sir!" All three cameras whirled to look at the red clad heroine. "Baldrick is my name, Miss Concerned Citizen. A pleasure! Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me or my counterpart." One of the arms pointed up. Far above another such robot, this one painted a creamy orange with white accents was doing some welding on a beam. One of it's many arms waved at them. "That's Kate."

Nightwatch glanced over at Concerned Citizen. "This place can be...a lot to take in. Take a minute if you need it. You can ask questions but I don't promise to answer them all."

"Likewise, Miss," Baldrick chimed in enthusiastically.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Small victory, that returned greeting. It made Aimee happy, and then he was all business-and well, holy crap, this was some real spy/superhero stuff right here.

Aimee hesitated just a moment, then stepped into the elevator with him, turning to see the last of her little car before the doors slid closed. It occurred to her, not for the first time, how big he was, particularly in the more confined quarters. Just a wall, it seemed like. It made her feel even smaller than she usually did.

Four buttons in the elevator, so four floors, she was assuming-they were headed to the third.

Aimee wasn't sure what she had been expecting to see when the doors opened. Sort of an old, government style building maybe? Dim yellow lights and mats?

No.

"Wow." Aimee breathed, forgetting she wasn't alone-her head tipped back and lips slightly parted as her eyes ran along the pipes and planets, the bright lights and unique architecture. It was art, really, as grand and fantastic as anything she'd ever read about in a comic book. She was flat footed amazed, even astounded. This was where he was based out of? Or had been? He used the word "was". "Was" called The Orrey.

Given her research the other night, she had to assume it was Starlight's former base. Aimee brought her gaze back down to Nightwatch, noticed his tense posture. She wondered if he came here all that often, if at all. She wondered if he regretted being here now. She felt bad and tried to think of something, anything to say-

!

She gave a bit of a start when a boisterous voice interrupted her thoughts, attention redirected to the little robot. Just like a comic book. Aimee had to keep herself in check, she was getting giddy. Things weren't as exciting for Nightwatch, if anything-he might find them painful. She also had to be professional, not a squeeing teenager.

"T-thank you Baldrick." Aimee responded in kind, no less polite than he was. "Kate." She returned the wave.

This place was crazy.

"It uh, it is a lot to take in. Thank you for showing me. It's...it's beautiful, it really is." She said to Nightwatch, even as way too many questions filled her head. She didn't want to annoy-or trouble- him with her curiosity though. It was enough just to be here.

Tearing her eyes from the arrangement of planets, she looked down to the Christmas tupperware container in her hands and suddenly felt a little embarrassed. But...well, hey, who didn't like cookies?

"I...I brought some cookies. Seemed like something to bring cookies to." She said, removing the lid and retrieving one before holding them out to Nightwatch. A warm cinnamon scent wafted from the container, and...apple? "I call them apple pie cookies. There's apple, cinnamon, and oatmeal in them. I usually put walnuts, but I wasn't sure if you like walnuts. Or, ya know, allergies or something." Okay, maybe this was a terrible idea. He was going to think she was crazy. But she offered the container to him anyway with one of her small, nervous smiles.

"I just, I really appreciate you being willing to help me learn. So, cookies." A glance to Baldrick. "Sorry they're not digital, Baldrick." Aimee took an absent bite of her own. They were still warm, even.

 

[Armphid]

Beautiful? His mask hidden eyes regarded her for two beats before turning to look out the window wall at the landscape that seemed to roll out from beneath it. The sky was still partly lit by the setting sun and twilight colors were in the sky. The lights of the city were starting to be visible. He had spent hours of his life looking out at this view. But even before...what happened, he hadn't looked at it with those same, wondering eyes in years. Now...he could almost see it that way again. Almost. "...I suppose it is," he conceded in a softer voice, not quite realizing he'd said it aloud.

Nightwatch envied her that ability to see the beauty in things. He didn't envy her the pain of her ideals failing. of their being steadily broken down by the weight of the world and its' never ending sins. But for now, he felt a pang of jealousy.

It was then her turn to surprise him again. He wasn't sure what she'd brought; maybe a lunch or something but nothing like this. Cookies? He hadn't eaten a cookie in, literally, years. He hadn't eaten anything solid other than a protein bar in at least two years.

They smelled good. More than just because of the olfactory stimulation and the fact that he was or had been? It'd been so long since he'd eaten them that he wasn't sure. But he had liked apples.

The vigilante stared down at the offered container of cookies like it was an alien seed pod for a few moments. Then his right hand twitched and jerked before reaching in and taking one. "I...thank you." What else could he say? He had no idea.

Baldrick just bobbled up and down in the air a bit, "Think nothing of it, Miss Concerned Citizen! Truthfully, I'm glad the missus and I do without all that eating business you biologicals deal with. We get so much more done this way and don't have to worry about, ah, well, you know. The "evacuation of waste," as the man says."

Nightwatch was now staring at the cookie in his hand. It was warm to the touch, he could feel it a bit through his gloves. She had made these. For him? For the training, as thanks. But still for him.

He didn't want people to do things like that for him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't want it.

But here the cookies were anyway. He lifted it to his face and sniffed a few times, taking in more of the smell. Then he took a bite. Taste flooded his mouth and he took in a sudden, deep breath. God. Real food. It had so much flavor. So much texture. It was good. Too good for the likes of him. But he wouldn't be so cruel as to not eat it.

He finished the rest of the cookie slowly. Given how little he ate solid food, he honestly wasn't sure what his system would make of this. Once he was finished, he nodded his head, "You can bake well. That was...the best thing I've tasted in years." Totally true.

Then he turned, "You can have more cookies later. We should get started. There are a number of skills to learn but first we need to handle the most basics for survival in this...line of work. You can fight some; I need to know how much and you need more. You'll also need to learn how to move about the city better, to use the environment to your advantage for mobility and for tactical positioning and utility in a fight."

He led her through the rings, heading to the main "Sun" area and the hand to hand practice section. "So we start with training in martial arts and parkour. Martial arts first. You've got some training. What styles? From a chain gym or a local place?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Uh, right." Aimee said to Baldrick, a little less keen on her own cookie, now. She closed the tupperware and set hers on top for now. She was glad Nightwatch had accepted a cookie. She hadn't been sure if he would or not-she'd spent much too long trying to decide what to make for him, earlier, and she would have been disappointed if it turned out he didn't like apples or something.

He said something she was sure was just flattery, but it didn't stop the blush of color across her cheeks, a smile.

"I'm glad you like them!" And she was. "Sorry the box isn't prettier, but it'll get them home okay for you." Enough cookies, and Aimee followed after him, an inner effort to look more professional. It wasn't a social call, but she was glad she'd gotten to do something for him.

Her eyes were attentive, clearly listening to him. Aimee was a good student, careful to take in all she could. "I studied several different things in college. Boxing and Judo mostly, though I took a semester of taekwondo. I know a few months isn't enough time to master much, but I've taken bits and pieces and practice at a local place." Aimee didn't want to name it, her trainer didn't have a lot of students and did mostly private lessons. "My instructor teaches Krav Maga, but I uh-" Aimee didn't want to admit, at least not out loud, that the brutality of Krav Maga, though effective, scared her a little.

Her mind flashed on Frank West, her knee smashing into his face. She felt her stomach turn.

"Well, I definitely have a ways to go. Ms. West forced me out a little sooner than I had originally planned for."

Her trainer was a woman, it suddenly occurred to Aimee. Nightwatch was much bigger than the Israeli immigrant. This was probably going to be difficult-but difficult was what she needed. She didn't want another incident like West, or the museum. Aimee was determined to be better, and Nightwatch did this every night.

 

[Armphid]

"Hn." Judo was good, a soft style would play to her strengths. But Judo was a sport. It had rules. The city didn't. Boxing could go either way; if her instructor emphasized footwork and the speed and power of her punches, then good. If they were one of those that on absorbing hits through blocking and toughness, less good. Krav Maga, now that was good. She'd need her hits to count when they landed.

At her comment about being forced out sooner than she expected, he just nodded. "This life is like that. Throwing things at you before you're ready. Don't get used to having a comfort zone. It won't last." For him, she was a case in point. Everything is his life fit. It made sense. Miserable, hateful sense but sense all the same. And then she came along...

They reached what looked to all appearances like a boxing ring. Nightwatch leaped to grab the top rope and then flipped himself over and into the ring. "There's a locker over there with some pads. Suit up. They're adjustable do make sure they fit." He would check before they started, of course. Even if he would feel uncomfortable inspecting her body.

The vigilante started to stretch in the ring. "When you're ready, we're going to spar. I need to know your level. Don't hold back. I won't go all out like I would on one of them but I won't coddle you either. I'll hit your openings and punish mistakes that would kill you out there. We stop when I say."

He paused. "Take your time getting ready. Ask questions before we start."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Slim chance of that." Aimee mumbled to herself at his comment about a comfort zone. She didn't think she'd ever been more uncomfortable in her entire life, wearing the mask. She wasn't the most qualified, she remembered saying to him that first night. Couldn't sit at home any longer. Wouldn't.

Couldn't stay IN her own comfort zone, more like.

A ring, and Nightwatch was already up and in it with an impressive bit of athletics. Aimee was going to feel pretty silly climbing in there from the stairs, now.

"Okay, sure." Protective padding she was familiar with, and definitely a good idea for not getting knocked around in a friendly spar. Aimee opened the locker, unzipped and removed her vest to hang it inside. She pulled her hat off too, high blonde ponytail sliding through the back of it and being fixed into a lower one, wispy bangs curling a little against her forehead. On went the chest pad, cinching it around her small waist and sliding the buckles for her shoulders. Then the padded head gear. She retied her shoelaces, double knots-and checked to make sure the red domino mask was firmly in place.

Nightwatch hadn't donned any padding. Aimee was pretty sure he wasn't going to need any, given the nature of his costume and...well, him being Nightwatch.

She was climbing the short set of stairs as he spoke, nodding along and ducking through the ropes-her blue eyes shifting to him on the "we stop when I say".

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

No, it was an excellent opportunity, she reminded herself. Learning from a real hero, one who had experience, had been doing this a long time. He knew how to fight. She only knew how to move, and in classroom conditions.

She needed the training. She just hoped he...what, exhibited control? Briefly reflecting on her sister's misgivings, Aimee shook her head. Nightwatch was doing her a favor. He was going to help her, and Aimee-no, Concerned Citizen, needed all the help she could get.

He was one of the good guys. She was a mixture of excited and nervous to learn from him. And okay...maybe a little intimidated. Maybe a lot intimidated. But it's not like he was going to put her in the hospital.

"That's what I'm here for, Nightwatch." She said, fumbling with the strap to the chest pad, tucking it in on itself at the small of her back before stretching her legs, first the right, then the left, then both together for her to "touch her toes", pressing her hands flat to the mat, going on tiptoe to get the full stretch for her calves.

Coddling wasn't going to help her out there. She...she could take whatever he dished out. Aimee stretched her arms and then rolled her shoulders, bouncing on the balls of her feet to loosen up.

Hopefully she managed not to embarrass herself too terribly in front of him.

Jeez, she hoped she didn't embarrass herself.

"Ready when you are." She said instead, anxiety rising a little. He wanted her to move first. Aimee looked over her taller, heavier, more muscled opponent, bringing her hands up in loose fists, a bit of bend to her knees, her toned legs tensing.

"Well, okay." She said uncertainly, a short burst of speed forward. She was quick on her feet, but she definitely wasn't hitting as hard as she looked like she could. Reluctance to strike him, maybe, even though she believed him to be near invincible?

A fist was deflected here, a knee was blocked there, another punch turned aside-she couldn't get anything on him. He could see her coming a mile away, Aimee realized.

Her left foot came down just next to his instep, a left hook he easily deflected-but it was a ruse, the real attack a right handed palm strike-Aimee's shoulders, back and legs shot the flat of her hand into his chest, but not with any sort of followup force to knock or attempt to knock him down. She had hesitated part way through the move.

Worried about hurting him maybe?

 

[Armphid]

Nightwatch admired her ability to collect herself. Her anxiety was there but well controlled, for the moment, at least. That was good. But he suspected control wasn't going to be her problem. Letting go of that control would be.

When she said she was ready, he took a deep breath and nodded. Unlike her he was not in a stance; his body was loose and relaxed, his defense seemingly open.

She came at him in a quick rush that was good; fast burst, kept her feet under her. Her fist shot out at him and his eyes narrowed behind his mask. His right hand came up to the inside and deflected her fist away and then slapped down to knock the knee that she'd fired up off course. She threw another punch and he caught it on his left forearm. Barely any strength in it. She could hit harder. She'd studied boxing; she could hit harder.

Concerned Citizen came on again, stepping close and swinging in a feint. He took it and felt a surge of approval as she drove a palm heeled strike into his chest that...thumped softly against him, barely registering. "I told you to come at me."

He shot a quick right jab that she manage to deflect, the edge of his fist just grazing the edge of her protective helmet. Which left her wide open as he turned his body into her and drove his left elbow into her chest. The strike wasn't his hardest; wasn't even close. But it still drove her back from the force of the impact. "To show me your fist, and you are, but it could never harm me. Or any of the monsters out there. Every move you make is full of fear."

Nightwatch went on the offensive now. He lashed out with a flurry of blows, punches became elbow strikes, knee blows aborted into kicks that struck out at her thighs and calves. "Just like I saw at the West house after you left it. That fight was all fear too."

He drove her back into the ropes, the petite blonde managing to spin away towards the corner. Trapping herself against a bigger opponent? Unwise. "When you attack, you're afraid of hurting your enemy. When you dodge or block, you're afraid of getting hurt. When you protected the boys, you were afraid they'd die. You don't need fear in a fight. Fear slows you down, makes you hesitate and freeze."

Nightwatch slapped a counter punch aside and slammed her back against the turnbuckle with a short, forward stepping kick. "When you dodge, you won't let yourself get hit. When you protect someone, you won't let them die. When you attack, you will knock them down!"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"I told you to come at me."

Shit.

She barely caught the inside of his arm with the outside of hers, deflecting the punch into a grazing hit on her helmet- but that left her open and she caught the elbow full in the chest with a squeaked noise of surprise, staggering back. And then here he came. Aimee's eyes widened, a flicker of panic as Nightwatch commenced the attack. He was fast. It almost wasn't fair, him being that fast. He towered over her, over damn near everybody and was so solid-muscle head to toe- and if he was also this fast- could anybody stand a chance? Least of all, could she? Even in a spar?

Adrenaline surged through her blood stream, but it wasn't making Aimee fiercer or faster-it was locking her up. Her heart was as fast a rabbit's, her thoughts scattering and leaving her without a plan, without any calculation.

He was right. She was afraid. And the more she tried to focus past it, the worse it got. She couldn't-she couldn't help it.

The would be hero was keeping upright only due to her footwork as she retreated in the face of Nightwatch's ferocity, unconsciously moving back away from him with every blow she dodged or deflected-taking a few too, here and there-the more he said, the less Aimee deflected. He had seen the West house. Aimee tried to remember what signs of the struggle had been there. She had been in such a hurt, banged up daze, more focused on getting the kids out-she hadn't really made note of the scene on her leaving. The fight had been...awful. If there was evidence of that-

He knew. He already knew how much of a coward she was, or was seeing it now.

She realized they were coming to the edge of the ring, and Aimee didn't want to be trapped between him and the ropes. She made a move to get around him but sort of froze up-just as he was telling her fear would do, managing to only really spin away from him to the side, rather than around him into the open ring.

It got her knocked back towards the turnbuckle, exactly where she didn't want to be-cornered. A bolt of panic that finally brought action-her hands found the rope at the connecting points behind her, grasping hold just at her hips-and Aimee jumped, fell back onto her hands as she curled her knees to her chest and violently extended them up and out for a forceful kick straight to his stomach/lower chest.

Nightwatch was plenty big, but Aimee's legs were plenty strong. Surprisingly so. She wasn't doing all those leg presses for nothing.

"I don't-I don't know how to do that." Now she had space, space enough to get back towards the middle of the ring. His words resonated around in her head, but that...that was confidence she just didn't have. She was always getting chastised by her instructor for not 'meaning' it enough, too.

"I'm trying-" She said, an edge of her frustration with herself in the words. Coward coward coward. "But it's all scary." An admission she immediately regretted. He was going to think...he was maybe going to know she didn't belong out there.

But she had to do something, be out there, even if it did scare the hell out of her. Aimee Summers was a coward, but Concerned Citizen didn't have to be.

She swallowed, brows furrowing as she tried to strengthen her resolve, even with the anxiety and the fear heavily gnawing away at her. She...she could do this. It...it was just a spar. She couldn't hurt him-and the stakes weren't as high as they had been with West or the museum.

But there were still stakes.

If he moved for her again, Aimee was less inclined to give ground-she flowed a little better, even if the panic was still there-slipping inside his reach here and there to strike and this time hitting hard with her palms and the butt of hands before dipping out again, keeping them circling so she didn't get cornered, as best as she could. She was small but used her body effectively-not just the power of her arms but the strength of her shoulders, back, core, bottom and legs driving her more powerful strikes.

 

[Armphid]

Her full body kick hit his crossed arms and threw him back, creating space for her. Now that had been a good shot. She didn't follow up on the solid strike but instead used it to create separation and get back to the open middle of the ring. It was a valid tactical move and told him more about her than she might have thought.

Her admission cost her; he could tell. She was embarrassed by it. Nightwatch turned to face her, "Of course it is." His response might have surprised her but she seemed to find resolve. "You overcome your fear with practice, with repetition, and with willpower."

The grim fighter advanced, this time taking up a stance; not his usual personal one, but with both arms up and turned outward, knees bent and staggered, weight forward on his feet. Muay Thai was one of his favorites. He struck with a fast left jab that she dodged and danced left, striking back at him. His right leg shot up to catch the blow and he felt a surge of satisfaction. Her fear wasn't gone but she had a hold on it. Excellent. "There you are. I wondered if you'd show up."

He continued to press her but still held back. Her blocks were crisper and her evasions more controlled. But it was her strikes that showed the greatest difference. There was power there now. It wasn't a full commitment but it was there. "The woman the city is abuzz about. The one who beat men twice her size. You kept me waiting."

Nightwatch pushed forward hard, trying again to drive her back towards the ropes but she circled, keeping her feet moving to prevent him from pinning her against the terrain again. Good! "Now fight like you mean it!" He punctuated his statement with a powerful right that blasted through her block to hit hard in the upper right of the chest pad. He followed up with a left that went under her guard to hit the ribs, a snap high kick that she avoided, his leg then stomping down to almost capture her left foot under it. He threw another hard right then, stronger than the rest of his punches so far.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Of course it is."

It did surprise her. She had expected...she didn't know. Derision? Another order to go home and not don the mask ever again? To be seen as hopelessly out of her element?

Practice, repetition, and willpower. Hard work she could put in-was more than willing to put in. And willpower...well, she was committed, if nothing else.

He spoke and her eyes glanced briefly to his opaque mask-then back to his movements, trying to keep herself in control, acting as well as reacting so she didn't get herself in trouble as she had before. He went on, and Aimee felt a little bit of embarrassment of a different kind.

Not pride exactly, but...

"Now fight like you mean it!"

W-wasn't she?

Aimee rocked back when his fist made contact with the chest pad, another little, feminine noise of surprise-the panic rising. A second strike on top of that one, her leading foot dragging across the mat as her back one caught her-no, no, no, she was on the run again. He was going to knock her down, or drive her back into the ropes and this time Aimee didn't think she'd get away from him as easily-and at her size, getting knocked down was just-well, would never end well.

The woman the city was abuzz about...?

Snap kick she managed to avoid, but then he stomped down right next to her foot. He'd knock her down. She was slightly off balance and still retreating-No. Her heart skipped a beat as a spark of determination flared. He threw a hard right and Concerned Citizen acted, shifting her weight to her left foot, coming closer as her hands shot up, wrapped around his arm and drove it upwards, stealing his momentum as she turned her body under it in the same motion, knees bending-before pulling the arm down hard over her shoulder, one hand still around his wrist while the other had moved higher up towards his shoulder-and used her legs as a sort of spring to throw him bodily onto the ring floor.

Her foot came down on his shoulder, her hands still holding tight to his arm. She was breathing a little hard from the effort, staring down at his mask. Her bright blue eyes lost that brief flash of intensity with a blink, immediately taking on a look of concern. She released his arm and stepped back a pace, hands open in apology.

"Jeez, I'm sorry-"