The attack on the gathering of vigilantes was a precautionary measure, and a well-organized one. It left the city open for new manoeuvres by those that had captured heroic attention for themselves. For a short period of time, the police force stepped out again and took the lead in crime prevention.
When heroes scurry into their holes like rats, even those who would support vigilante justice and look up to them as heroes from comic books could see that they're ordinary people and not untouchable. Yet the greatest blow to their image wouldn't come from mere mortals, but from something very different. To take down someone with any kind of power, Ren needs one of two things, someone with power or someone with nothing to lose.
The light burned his eyes as the piece of cloth covering them was removed. Ren heard Nightreaver's steady footsteps and saw his dark silhouette crest past the light. Ren's eyes were slow to adjust to the light, but he began to see shapes taking form around the room he was in. A desk was lit up by large bright screens, and a rack made of rough metal stood right next to the desk with various tools littered on the shelves.
Ren started seeing more of the room. Three full mannequins stood nearby, staring in his direction and wearing variations of the Nightreaver outfit. All of them were recognizable as the same outfit, but there were little details, equipment and flourishes that differentiated one from the other. On the other side of Ren, he could see a large mat assembled to fill that entire side of the room. Wooden knives, swords, and batons were placed in racks along the wall, and several types of punching bags took up space on either side of them. In the middle of the mat stood a large wooden dummy he had seen in pretty much every Kung Fu movie ever made.
Nightreaver stepped up to the computer screens and tapped a few keys, filling the room with the sound of the keyboard.
"I'm sorry for blinding…no, blindfolding you for a moment, but this is my inner sanctum. I hope you will show at least some respect towards me and tell me when you wish to leave so I can escort you out, instead of breaking for it," Nightreaver said, turning around to look at Ren. "Every vigilante needs their little place to relax, and it's easier to relax when you know nobody knows about it."
Ren got used to the light and eventually got up and about. After a quick tour of the large single room he had been led to, Nightreaver let Ren roam around freely. Nightreaver screens were rolling with information, from digs into the police database to feeds from at least twenty different news outlets. While Ren was looking at the flow of information, Nightreaver approached him with a small tray. The tray held a rather unappetizing-looking brown bar on it, as well as two small bottles of water.
"Sorry. I don't have much to offer right now. The bar is a high-nutrient ratio. It tastes like really bland oats and the texture is close to cardboard, but it's better than nothing after the night we've had," he said with a shrug. "Anyways, I appreciate you tagging along after things went south. You're actually pretty decent at what you do, it seems. Have you had any training or…no, don't answer that. I don't want to know any details about you. What I do want to do is make sure you're ready for when we head out there again."
"Why the mood swing? You weren't happy to see me on the roof earlier," Ren asked, looking up at Nightreaver while unwrapping the ration bar. He sighed and shook his head.
"You might not know this, but I've been doing this for years. I discovered my abilities when I was young, and ever since took to heart the ethos of certain comic book heroes. The same goes for Aura. I'm sure you can name at least three of her heroes right off the top of your head. I can see traces of the same in Icarus, Barrier, even Caracal," he said. "I've seen a lot of people like you pick up this line of work in my few years. One after another, they pick up on leads and get pulled into something they cannot handle. Eventually, many of them break down and either retire or lose their lives. You, on the other hand, are a riddle. You've casually stumbled upon a pretty big thing, and you don't seem to be the least bit phased by it."
The man in black shook his head again, his words becoming whispers. His language became clinical, as if he was thinking out loud and talking to himself rather than continuing to answer Ren's question. Eventually he just kind of wandered off by himself.
"Oh, you should get some rest. Please, I have a bed here you can use and sleep in," Nightreaver said, nodding towards a doorway. "I will go out and find out what's happening out there. Everything must be a mess."
Ren followed the man into the next room, which proved more like a large closet than anything else, a cubby where a bed had been assembled. The mattress was thin and the sheets looked well worn. The pillow seemed like it had been filled with rocks judging from its hardness and lumpiness. Yet after the day he had, he managed to find sleep, even with the glare from the monitors in the other room reaching his eyes.
The following morning....
Ren felt a hand on his shoulder, and his body twitched in response. His eyes fluttered open, then focused to see Nightreaver standing in front of him.
"Good morning," he stated, smiling through the gap in his mask. "I apologize for waking you. I thought you would like to see this."
He took his hand off Ren's shoulder and reached out with the other, brandishing a remote. Turning on one of the screens he'd set up as a television, he showed Ren a scene of an elderly man in a deep blue uniform step up to a podium on the steps of the Pacifica police headquarters. Constant camera flashes lit up his groggy face, and the gathered crowd all hushed in order to see what he had to say. With another press of the button, Nightreaver unmuted the screen.
"…and we are finally prepared to make a statement. As you've already heard from hints from the public, there was an operation that took place at the penthouse of 28 Banner Street. This operation was undertaken by law enforcement operators with support from IPMC. This operation was to disperse a group of powered vigilantes who had taken to squatting in said penthouse. It was deemed by law enforcement officials that this was a significant threat to the security of the neighbouring areas, and lacking resources, they contracted IPMC operators. During the operation, with minimal loss of life…"
As the live feed from the local police commissioner continued, Nightreaver shook his head and turned to Ren.
"That's not right. Those weren't police, and those weren't IPMC either. Minimal loss of life? No. There was a loss of life there…this whole speech stinks. I need to get in touch with Aura. I might have an idea on how to contact her. Meet me tomorrow night, around eleven, at the penthouse. If you don't see me or Aura before midnight, get back into hiding. Come on, I'll walk you out of here," he said, offering Ren the same blindfold he'd worn when the two of them arrived.
The following night, Ren stood atop a neighbouring building, looking up at the penthouse that he'd been in when it was raided. Nobody was moving around up there, and it seemed like the place was no longer guarded. The crime scene had been combed for evidence, statements had been made, and the building was slowly returning to a state of normalcy.
As he looked up, he wondered just what he'd gotten himself into. The whole situation was crazy from the start; superpowers belonged in comic books, not in real life—yet he had been granted them by some twist of fate in his life. Then the earthquake drew everyone to one place, creating a breeding ground for confusion as each vigilante sought to find their persona while also trying to deal with others like them.
Ren took a moment to just breathe, and even contemplated just taking the night off and going for a nice long walk in civilian clothes. However, some small voice in the back of his head drowned out all of that. As that voice slowly took over and made him take the first steps towards the penthouse, his mind was still trying to bring everything together into something coherent.
Perhaps he simply had bad luck, stumbling into powers of his very own, getting caught in the dealings of some kind of a cult, and then gaining a nemesis who dresses in white.
For a moment, he paused and looked around himself. The noise of the city faded into the background as he simply concentrated on the space around him, taking a deep breath of the chilly air. He reminded himself that this is reality, not his childhood fantasies. He would have to prove responsible for his choices.