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It all started with dinner. A small pub on the outskirts of the city, neutral ground for all of them, a place chosen specifically so no one has an upper hand.
There are four of them, all of them disguised, with varying levels of success, but mostly unrecognizable nonetheless. Pub was mostly empty, save for a few older men playing cards in the corner while drinking beer and showing each other pictures of their grandchildren and a young man behind the bar who probably is a student that isn’t getting paid enough but it’s still a job. Interior wasn’t very high end but it definitely wasn’t a dump. It was neutral. Since the neighbourhood surrounding it shared the same qualities it was all neutral.
Neutral ground. Not a lot of that in Metro City nowadays.
While the ground might be neutral, their stares aren’t. All of them are fighting a silent war, not looking away, not showing their hand, not yielding an inch, as if their fate, destiny even, was being decided on by the outcome of this match.
Food is served on the old wooden table. It’s not the best quality but a person can stomach it. Nothing to call home about, but nothing vomit inducing.
Spell is broken. They stop their war. It was all a game anyway, they all had always known it had to end one way or another. And today they might decide to end it without spilling any blood on the table.
They talk. And talk they do. It starts rough. Words like blades, sharpened to deal as much damage as possible, yet the blade dulls against the impenetrable skin of metal. Three of them berate the fourth about his recklessness, about what he had planned would have amounted to if they didn’t notice faster, about consequences. He shoots back. It hits. They argue, all four of them. Then the fight comes out of them. They have been fighting for so long. And in the end who were they fighting for? For the people? For themselves? For justice? For recognition? For good? Or for evil?
In the end they only fought for the system. And the system didn’t like any of them as individual people instead of symbols.
Because how symbol of inherit good would want to have anything for himself? Not be completely selfless all the time until he burns brighter than the star of the system from where he came from?
How the symbol of overwhelming evil could be just a bullied kid, who has never actually done any permanent damage to people other than himself? Not actually wanting to destroy humanity like the darkness of the blackhole that had destroyed his bright home?
How does the henchman, wants to be treated as an equal, not look like a human yet have more humanity than most of them? Not be a mindless drone set on destruction, like a sheep with sharp teeth, just following orders without any thoughts?
And how does she dare to be outspoken, brave, blunt, cut-throat, not actually in distress? Not be a figure millions envy and lust after like something unreachable yet, relatable?
How do they dare to not be just symbols of something they don’t really believe in? How dare they be people?
So they don’t fight anymore. Fighting stops with an apology. Three of them. Then more go on. Most of them are accepted. Not everything is forgiven, how could it be? But the hatchet is buried.
And they talk.
Food grows cold. They talk business. After all, it is a business meeting. Ideas are thrown around and then discarded, bits of them used for other ones and that are yet again discarded and the cycle continues.
They talk about law, economics, public, mechanics, technicalities. And they scheme, and plot, and plan, and lay plans.
And in the end they have it. The last plan of them all. The last plot. The one thing to end all the fighting. Maybe not in the world, but just in between them.
It might not be much but it’s their world.
They shake hands, exchange contact information, and promise to stay in touch.
Phase one happens completely behind the scenes. Months prior to the resolution, yet that is one of the most important steps. It happens in a mansion, behind closed doors, with no one being able to look at the contents of the document but one of the four and his lawyer.
A will is written, signed, and then safely hidden in a safe. Its time is yet to come.
Phase two involves two of four. One works deep down, in the guts of the city. Putting his boot down, taking care of all the things that need to be taken care of. Setting the record straight. Putting the right people in the right places. Making sure everything is in check.
She works above, in the clouds, around people who had never put their feet on the ground. She dances and laughs, and they think she’s a beautiful humming-bird. She is not. She's a hawk looking for bits of meat she can peck off and then spread. Finding any rot and documenting it, so she can later cleanse the world of it. She might have dangled over a bottomless pit or two, but for the most of her life, she had stood on the solid, unforgiving ground.
Somehow, down and up sometimes overlap, so they meet. Never as themselves, at least one of them is under a mask at the time, but the other knows it. They’ve known each other for years, they somehow gravitate towards each other. They bond. They speak of mundane. They speak of light and dark. And they find their neutral.
Phase three takes the longest but it’s the easiest. All four of them act. They act as if they don't share long email chains. They talk as if all of it wasn’t planned. They all act as if they had any fight left in them. It’s even more of a game than it was before, because they all are aware they are puppets.
But the puppets had cut their strings off.
Show time.
It’s not a battle to death. It’s not a Death Ray. It’s not a megalomaniac with a fragile ego who was infused with godlike powers for the sake of destiny. It’s quiet. How most deaths are.
There is a fire in a building made of copper. One of them that starts the show makes a point of saying how copper is his weakness. He goes in anyway. There were no people inside. Building explodes. All that is left is bloodied debris and a white cape, smudged with soot.
Day later the whole city is mourning. There is black everywhere. People are scared. They shouldn’t be. The show is ending after all.
One of the four sends a formal request for an interview on behalf of the other. Another one of the four rises to the challenge for that is the last appearance of the humming-bird before the hawk sinks her claws into the rot.
They sit in comfortable leather chairs. Camera man is scared but the rest of them are calm. This is one final stretch of the game.
Camera starts rolling. He politely greets her. She responds likewise. He speaks, his always vivid face is solemn, saddened even. Condolences are said. He says he never wished for another's demise, that he even considered him a friend. He officially hangs his cape. Says condolences again. She finishes the interview. This was their last public performance together.
There is a funeral. He turns up in a tuxedo. Leaves a bouquet of flowers and then leaves. That is his last public appearance.
Will is read. People are shocked. Hero revealed what made a villain. A super one at that. He apologized. He asked for his old friend to be pardoned in the event that the Hero doesn’t die at the hand of the Villain. Somehow, pardon goes through.
Show is almost over.
People stop mourning, then the hawk strikes. She brings out all the rot from the above and violently slams it into the solid ground. One by one, old gods fall making place for the new ones. After she had her fill, no one ever wishes she was a cardboard cutout to her face again. They fear her wrath.
Time passes.
A new musician takes the stage and steadily becomes more and more popular. He wasn’t born with a talent, but he worked hard to get where he was, and he loved it.
Time passes.
A new brilliant scientist makes amazing breakthroughs, that further humanity. He might have not expected to enjoy it so much, helping others, but he loves it.
Time passes.
A popular cooking channel is established. Viewers love the soothing voice of the person who never appears on the camera, but feel comforted by him. He never thought he would be one running his own show, but he loves it.
Time passes.
A reporter is on the top of her field. People want her head, but they won’t get it before she gets theirs first. She is witty and decisive and sure of herself. No one questions her seat at the table, and she loves it.
Time passes.
Musician isn’t really connected to them all in the public eye, but he still visits every week. The cooking channel host mentions being childhood friends with the scientist once, but people don’t really care about it that much. Reporter meets the scientist at one of the conventions. She does an article about him. Later another mention of the two of them is a wedding announcement.
Time passes.
And they all are people who live as people. Not symbols.