It only takes one spark to light a world-consuming fire. The modern age is full of phones with video capture and short-fused social media that are much too fast to form into lynch mobs without having all of the known facts at hand. These heroes were careful, but some were not as careful as they should have been. The actions of a few soon branded everyone who had powers, whether they had taken up vigilantism or not.
Aura remained the first and most well-known. Even as many pushed to sling misinformation about her, many others gathered to push back. She emerged from the worst few weeks with surprisingly little effect on her public image. In hushed whispers, some claimed that leniency was paid for by unknown sponsors.
"…and today, Mr. Rennow finally returned to public life after several weeks of mourning over the tragic loss of his son at the hands of the vigilante known as Crimson Caracal," the news anchor said, sliding something on the touch-screen embedded in his desk, the camera panning at the same time to include a monitor on the screen. On the monitor, you could see surprisingly sharp pictures of Crimson Caracal on top of a black SUV, then fleeing after the SUV had crashed.
"The Pacifica Metropolitan Police Department has requested the public to be on the lookout for this South African vigilante. Although the police refuse to release official records, the Chief Constable has stated that the department has open cases on her ranging from breaking and entering the attempted murder of a state official." The man behind the news desk looked off-camera for a split second, then turned back to stare directly out from the TV screen.
"We are now going live to a statement being given by Lieutenant-Governor Rennow."
The speech started off slow, with a solemn tone, the words of the usually straight-standing state official now overcome by the rapping of camera shutters, his face awash in the bright light from their flashes.
Ren looked away and started drinking his coffee, after what happened last night, he still couldn't get over the fact that a man performed an operation in front of him. Ren was thankful that Angie is now safe and resting in the hospital, but after the man finished the operation, he just disappeared in his portal. But a voice cuts his thinking.
"You think they're really going to do it? Enforce some kind of law on these vigilantes?" a man casually asked. Ren glanced around, seeing nobody else in earshot who he might be talking to.
The coffee shop he was sitting in was largely empty, and the seats the two of them was taking up happened to be the best for hearing the TV. Before Ren could reply, the man continued, his voice filled by the waves of a lovely thespian accent, common in older Shakespearian players.
"I hope not. It was a tragedy what happened, but I don't think they should make these people the bad guys. Not all of them are like that. The legislation they've been talking about would basically put these people under watch 24/7. Strange powers or not, they have the right to privacy."
"What do you think would happen if they tried to control these powered people? It's just legislation." Ren said.
"It always starts as just legislation, then it gets implemented and twisted as much as possible until someone gets the Supreme Court involved. This legislation could end in an atmosphere of fear that will put us all back into a situation where we drag even innocent people out of their homes and into camps, just because they might be a threat." He looked up at the TV screen and took a sip of his harsh-smelling black coffee before speaking again. "And I hear tyranny is certainly not what this country was built upon."
"I don't know. This might be one of those times where we have to balance security and freedom." Ren says, "I mean, people are starting to panic because there is actually some vigilante that is killing people."
"Perhaps, but there's a historical basis to argue that it isn't worth the costs that come with it," he says with a mournful look at his drink.
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, I don't wish to lecture. Honestly, I don't even remember all the facts myself. The United States has always been a land of overkill. From the treatment of blacks, to sexual and religious minorities, to wartime enemies. Too often, the go-to answer for the question of finding security is isolation from the public."
"Oh, I never properly introduced myself. I apologize. My name is Daniel, Daniel Clarke," the man said, extending his hand for a shake. "I work as a consultant for Omnia Enterprise Solutions. Specifically, I've come here to analyse the feasibility of high-speed network infrastructures from a political and socioeconomic focus. Sounds boring, doesn't it?"
There is a pause as he smiles, locked in place. Then he seems to realize he had more to say and clears his throat, his face becoming more serious and his hands patting down his pockets to find a business card to hand Ren.
"Truth be told, I already know who you are, Mr. Olssen. I've had you tagged as a person of interest for about two weeks. Mainly because you work with the consulate of your nation. Although you may not work directly in the politics of this state or this country, you still have reach here, if you pull on the right strings and make the right connections. As you can imagine, this would be very important if I am to lobby for any projects here."
The two of them looked at one another for a brief moment of silence as his words started latching on to other pieces of information in Ren's head. The entire state's network capabilities had been largely destroyed during the quakes, and although the many companies who owned the cable networks in the state were trying to rebuild, Omnia was a fresh competitor with top-of-the-line technology to make the entire process go much smoother.
"Mr. Clarke, I don't…" Ren started, but Clarke interrupted by offering Ren a small business card. Ren glanced down at it and saw the soft off-white colouring and smooth indented lettering, his hand reaching for it instinctively.
"Please, don't say anything. I just want a contact who can help me reach those who would actually need to hear my sales pitch. You will remain without a name in all my contact books and reports, and I won't say anything about you to whoever I talk to. We both know that this entire state would benefit from having Omnia come in and get something done."
"Sure, I'll help you."
"Great! I'll be contacting you within the next few weeks, and we'll get some gears in motion. I really appreciate you doing this."
Ren departed from Daniel with a prompt and brief handshake. As he walked away, Ren heard a car stop, a door open, and Mr. Clarke stepped inside. Moments later, a white sedan drove past him and headed towards the city centre.
.....
The following night, Ren was doing his usual rounds around the city. Some criminals had become emboldened by the public backlash against the 'freaks,' while others openly ran in the opposite direction when Ren showed up and used his powers. It was just past midnight when he picked up on the trail of a couple of muggers who had escaped him the few previous nights. Normally, he might not let himself get dragged into quite such street-level crime, but something about this bunch drew his attention. Perhaps it was the bodies they sent to the nearest emergency room, or perhaps it was the level of organization they seemed to have. A pattern was emerging, and he felt like he was hot on their trail that night.
Ren entered a dark yard that had once been a playground behind some apartment buildings. Now the buildings had lost half their floors, and what remained served as a dangerous refuge for bored kids.
As he crossed into the yard, he looked around and saw two figures moving into one of the buildings, an iron door closing behind them. Above the door, he saw a mix of spray-painted images and tags competing for space. It appeared that someone had sprayed the words "NEW DAWN" all over it.
The words still haunted him from the day he had first seen them. He felt prepared, however, as he had been training.