Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night felt darker than normal, a pitch black I hadn’t seen in years. I felt cold under my trench coat, my breath puffing out of my mouth in clouds of fog. The air was clean and smelled crisp, as if waiting for me. I wondered if the wind could hear me, then. If, maybe, all my questioning into the dark night haven’t gone unnoticed.
My eyes slide away from the night sky and to the tall building in front of me as I ponder the wind.

The building was a museum, although it was not renowned for carrying great works. It carried paintings from young artists, people looking for anywhere to display their work. I felt bad for those people, most who would never become famous, and if they did, would most likely be already long dead.

But never mind that. Right now, this poor excuse for a museum had something I needed.
They had successfully gotten their dirty little hands of a actual piece of art.

And I was going to steal it.

I hustle my way around the edge of the building, my footsteps muffled by the dying grass. Most people couldn’t afford to water their grass often enough to keep it green, especially now. This was the first cold snap of the year, just three days earlier it was warm enough to wear tank tops, now I’m shivering under my sweater and heavy coat.

I grab the railing of the fire escape, cold mettle biting at my skin, cold like the steal of the gun tucked against my thigh.
Swinging myself up to the landing, I take a deep breath as I start up the rickety old steps. It only takes me a minute or two to reach the top, and I jump over the edge onto the roof.
Taking a breath, I look out at my city, one that I’ve lived in my whole life. The place that raised me, left me in the cradle of creators and criminals alike, the people who took care of me without judgment.
It’s not like I could see much, being on top of a five story building did not lend you much vantage in a city full of skyscrapers as far as you could see, but I’m determined to treasure this moment. I always try to breath in the world before a job, to remember to be calm in every moment. After a minute, I turn back to the roof and adjust my suit.

Should I finally tell you, dear reader, who I am?

Would you look at these words, written on old paper in a crumbling journal, any differently if you knew who penned them in?
Should I tell you anyway?

Well, either way, I think I will.

My name is William Fallaciter (pronounced Fall-ET-cheat-a), also known as the Villain Red Hawk.

Or, well, that’s what the public calls me, a Villain. And I guess, in a way, I am. In the way that I do, in fact, break the law on a daily basis, not the “I’m going to burn down and take over New York” kind of way. I’m what’s called a mercenary for hire. People like me are typically less sophisticated, or if they are, have seemed to pull the short straw on life, but I’ve created a pretty nice business for myself in the city.
I’m well known by the criminal community and the public alike, although I doubt the public knows how to get in context with me, or even that I take jobs.

I can proudly state that I am the criminal undergrounds most well known hire, mainly because I can do more than a normal merc.

I bring a hand up to my hair, fluffing it up. If I’m going to be in front of a bunch of cameras, I might as well look good, I do have a public image to up hold.
I walk over to the edge of the roof and look down. There’s a slight dent in the wall where a window pokes out. I try and gauge the distance. Its about one story down.

A quick breath in, a long breath out, hold. Well, down I go.

I quickly step up onto the ledge of the roof and drop off the edge. That feeling of momentary weightlessness is always dizzying, and after all these years I still get a small thrill. As I fall, I twist my body 180 degrees, grabbing hold of the window ledge before I go flying past. the edge is biting, but its not even that big of a deal for me at this point, I’ve done more dangerous things in my time.

I pull myself up onto the ledge and slip the window open, praying it doesn’t creek. I slip through the small opening, shimmying inside, stretching out my body as gracefully as I can.

I should say, although I’m sure you know, dear reader, that I am very tall. I say you would know because the public (and the news) loves to speculate about my height. I do seem to tower over other Villains at times, even some Heroes, who all seem to be tall freaks like me. To add to that, I’m very lanky. Not thin, defiantly not weak, but I’m not exactly built like a house.

No, I won’t tell you my height, at this point it has become a well guarded secret.

I close the window behind me, pulling out the last of my coat. I look around the room I’ve suck into. Its dark, the only light from the city outside. Its a small office, a desk at one end, two plush chairs across from it, as well as a shelf behind.
There on the desk is a small framed picture. A man with a bright smile is in the middle, next to him are three young boys, his sons, I would guess. They look so happy, content. I smile slightly, and run my hand along the top of the frame.

Its not even dusty.

I turn and walk to the door, my footsteps, usually loud with the half inch heel,— yes, I know, “why is this tall-ass guy wearing heels?” shut up, I like the sound they make— is muffled by the soft carpet. I open the door and step out into the hallway, walking to the elevator. As I walk, I straighten my suit, my hands running over the light material.

For today’s mission, I’m wearing my Breaking and Entering suit, which is just a black sweater and pants under the usual.
the history behind my suit is a bit of a story. from the bottom up, I have a pair of brown boots with a light heel, a pair of durable cargo pants (also brown, you see I have a theme going here), and a huge collection for sweaters. But the stars of the show are my coat, and my mask.

The coat is a long brown trench, going all the way down to my calf, but I’ve embroidered red tailed hawk feathers at the end. They took forever for me to do, and I went through two practice coats before I felt comfortable to use my own, but it was damn well worth it. The feathers catch the light, letting the details shine through. the light brown that bleeds into red, the white at the very end. When ever I move, in a fight or jumping off buildings, it always looks like a bird in flight, which matches well with my mask.

My mask is the main attraction.

It's simple, a strip of wood that sits on the bridge of my nose, held back with a piece twine. It fits to my face perfectly, covering from the tip of my nose to the middle of my forehead. its made of a light cherry wood and carved in the the shape of a hawk’s face. where its yellow eyes should be, two holes sit, filled with my yellow eyes.

If you know anything about the world you live in (which I think you would) the you know that some people are born with gifts. Something to make them special. Most gifts are small, being good at holding your breath, jumping super high, small, generally useless things like that. but some people luck out, and are born with incredible gifts. These are the people who are turned into Heroes. The ability to control fire, or water or wind, bend metal, super strength, grow plants anywhere. They are stolen from the world and raised in the Hero Training Tower by teachers and mentors, all for the purpose of fighting Villains.

Because if your not a Hero, you’re a Villain. ether your power was too weak for you to be of use to the government and you were cast aside, sentenced to a life of crime, or you powers were too strong for the teachers to handle and you were imprisoned, locked away for something you were born with, and can’t control.

I am nether. I am something else. I am something more.

Chapter Text

There are four classes of Gifts.

The first is ‘Party Trick Class’, mostly theses are small things, like throwing darts, doing handstands, stuff like that. People with Party Trick Gifts aren’t even considered for Hero Training, they are deemed harmless, unless they want to pull an easy scam. Most people have this Class.

Gifts manifest at around 5 years of age and continue to grow in strength until around 20. They work kind of like puberty, so that’s fun.

The second is ‘Working Class’. These are gifts like the aforementioned holding of breath, or jumping really high. Gifts like this let people succeed in different professions, like free diving or construction work, and unless the gift is super rare and needs to be studied, people with Class two are typically left alone.

The third Class is ‘The Money Making Class’, and I bet you can guess what happens to those people. Pulled from life and sent away from anyone you’ve ever loved, a mask and a title for you to carry for the rest of your (probably short) life.
The local government will wipe you from all records, you will have never existed. They create a new identity for you after you ‘graduate’ from Hero training and are allowed to leave the tower. Well, you might as well get paid big bucks.

The last Class goes only by ‘Class Four’.
On the street, we don’t give that class a fun name for a reason. Half out of respect, half out of fear. The ‘Class Four’ gifts could make any sane person shudder. Theses gifts ones akin to Death by Touch.
There has only been one person with that power.
He was a good friend. Now he’s gone.
No one messes with Class Four.

I did say I was something more, didn’t I? I did mean that literally. Remember when I fell off the building and caught my self? Yeah, that’s my Gift, which is Party Trick/Working Class, Agility and Flexibility. I can contort my body like a snake, it really freaks people out.
Most people just assume I’m just super flexible, and I guess that is partly true, but the bigger part of that power is Agility. Flexibility without Agility is like peanut butter with out jelly. Like, yeah, if you just want some peanut butter that’s cool, but with jelly? Now that’s good.
The Agility part makes me fast and strong, but not like super speed or strength, its just like I train for it, which I don’t, so that’s nice.
Yes, I know, dear reader. ‘Wouldn’t a Villain have better powers?’ I’m getting to that.
As I arrive at the elevator, I push the button and the doors opens at once. Perfect, no need to let anyone know I’m here.
Yet.

As I slip through the door, I hug the wall and reach up to the small camera in the corner, touching the underside. As I do, the camera disappears.

This is my second power, Vanish and Apparition. This is the power the public knows about.
I can make anything disappear and reaper. The things go to a… place. When I see it, it looks like a white void, with strange objects floating aimlessly.
The camera now floats there too, next to a half eaten sandwich and the book I was reading, the remains of my lunch break.
The way things work in there is different, I once stored a whole box of apples in there for 3 weeks and it was perfectly fine when I pulled it out.

Weight is weird too, a car feels like the equivalent a brick. It is interesting that I can feel a weight, similar to a a bag on my shoulders.
When things disappear from this world (and into my little pocket dimension) it feels… like a vortex grabs it. Like I’m handing it off to someone else to take.
Some day I really want to put someone into the void, but I don’t want to risk my friends. There might not be any air in there, who knows?
Standing in the elevator, I glance to the at the mirror in the back. This lighting is not helping with my headache, or my skin, my eyes a dim yellow, but I won’t be letting anyone see that.
I close my eyes and See;

—Two men
two guns
yawn sigh—

I open my eyes and see myself reflected in the door.

This is my third and highest class power, Foresight.

This power is what gives my eyes a yellow color. I’m not quite sure why, but questioning gifts and how they work is a waste of time, —ahem— and I really don’t need to have a mental breakdown if front of a mirror at 2:53 am. This Gift is a guarded secret and my greatest disguise. The Heroes believe I have naturally yellow eyes, so that’s what they look for. It’s kind of ingenious, if I don’t say so myself.

Ding.

Ah, this is my stop.

I Reach into the void space and pull out a dart gun and a few sleep darts. I only keep my gun on me for emergencies, I store the rest of my stuff in the void.
The doors open and I lean against the wall, bracing my arms on the doorway.
“Hey, Frank, did you push the button?” someone says on my left. “I thought you did.” from my right.
That’s all I need to hear.
I rush out, crouching low and shoot the first man in the neck. His face, first shocked, falls slack as he slouches downs.
“No, Steve!” Comes a shout from behind, as the other man —Frank— starts my direction.
I blink:
—click
nothing—

I turn around and face my opponent, and leaning on the wall.
“Hello there, Frank.”
Frank levels his gun an my chest.
“How do you know my name?! and what did you do to Steve?!”

I chuckle. Some people are… not very smart sometimes, but I don’t blame him, he’s probably pretty stressed right now. “I know a lot of things, and don’t worry, Steve’s just going to take a little nap. he’ll be up in…” I check the second dart in my gun, “Four-ish hours? Yeah, four hours. And your next.”

Frank jerks his gun. “Step into the light, you criminal!”

I sigh, “Wow, so original.” but I step forward. It gets me closer to him anyway.
As I step forward, I tip my head down so my hair falls in my face. Yes, I’m a very dramatic, but watch this.
Frank sees my coat and he’s breath catches. “I... look up.”

I stifle a laugh, as I look in his eyes. “Hello.”

“Red Hawk!”

Before he gets out another word, I rush at him with my gun. He pulls the trigger on his, but all we hear is click.

“Oops, that sucks, man. Have a good sleep.”

I shoot the man in neck and he slumps forward. The darts are work quickly, the tip covered in a fast-acting paralyzing substance. Don’t ask me what, my dealer won’t tell me where he gets it. I lay Frank on the ground and give him a pat on the head.
I blink and:

—Nothing nothing
crickets—

I look back at the guys behind me.
“Wow, okay. No one else? You guys should get better at this.”

I turn around and look at the walls covered in art, trying to find the one I’m here for. As I’ve said before, this is kind of a crappy museum, but it has one good painting. Its somewhere around here. Walking through the building, I notice a few cameras in the corners. Hmm, last time I blinked I didn’t See anyone else, but just to be sure, I blink and;

—screens dark
empty chairs—

Okay, these guys are so amateur. I mean, you just got this amazing painting, that probably cost you millions of dollars, and all you have for defense against theft is two guys? Who are nowhere near the painting? They are totally at fault for this.
I finally arrive at the end of the rooms and see a painting surrounded by a short metal fence. Seeing it, I scoff. A short metal fence is supposed to stop me? Before I hop the fence, I blink, just in case and;

Ah. This is starting to make more sense. They thought they didn’t need guards because of their security system! I can tell, it’s state of the art. But they got cocky, they didn’t think I would come. I smile, and even chuckle. So far, no one has been able to stop me if I set my mind to something. And I’ve set my mind.

I’m here to steal that painting.

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the painting, I try to admire this beautiful piece of art before I yank it off a wall.

I know, dear reader. You must be wondering by now, why am I stealing this painting? Simple: I was paid to.

I am a mercenary after all, and that doesn’t just mean killing people. (Although yes, I’ve done that too. No, don’t make that face, you picked up a random journal and didn’t expect it to be written by a murderer? Just unbelievable, reader. And I thought we understood each other.)
Either way, someone got in contact with me and requested I steal this. Nothing to it, really. They get the painting, I get a paycheck. And if they don’t pay me… well. Lets just say I don’t have to be hired to kill.

Back to the problem at hand: high tech security systems. Fun! I can’t see the lasers, but the fix for this is simple. I reach into the Void and pull out some flour.
Always have extra baking supplies on hand, you’ll never know when you might need it. I mean, it makes sense for me, I’m friends with a baker. Correction, a forgetful baker.

I throw the hand full of flour in the air, and the lasers become visible. Now, I could go into the science behind this, but that would take a long time, and it would be arduously boring, so I’ll save you the lecture, and we can move on, ‘kay?
As I look at the crossing lasers, I realize that this might be harder then I thought. The lasers are rather close together, and while I might be able to limbo pretty well, I don’t think I can fold myself into a 5 by 5 cube.
I put my hand to my chin as I think. I could try and reach just one hand through them with just my hand, but the distance between the fence, where the lasers start, and the painting, is just too far, so that’s out.
I could go above, since the lasers don’t come within six inches of the painting (probably to preserve it), but the ceilings are finished and there are no hand holds. I start to pace around the painting, trying to get a good look at the problem. After a couple loops, I realize something.
If I set off this alarm, the first thing the security is going to do it look at the cameras, since that’s, like, the smart thing to do. And because I’m classified under ‘Villain’ they would be required to call the Hero tower when they find out.

It’s 3:00 am. No ones awake.
Well, no one who wants their beauty sleep.
Now, I could Blink and check if that’s right, but my eyes are really starting to hurt from over use.
There are a few repercussions to my power of Foresight, one of which is my yellow eyes, not that big of a deal, just don’t use it for a while and it wears off. The other problem is much worse. Like, a lot worse. If I use my Sight to much, my eyes will start to hurt, then bleed, and then I might just go blind for a little while! But it’s totally fine, promise! (Are you picking up on the sarcasm? Good, moving on…)

My powers work a little weirdly, but the base model makes sense. The farther into the future I look, the bigger toll it takes on my eyes.
So right now, I have no way to prove if my hypothesis is right without risking losing a vital sense. So my real question is; do I take the painting and run, maybe be able to slip away without notice, maybe start a chase, or do I take the painting, and stay and fight off whomever the send my way?

And if they do, am I strong enough to win?

I take option two.

After reaching through the lasers for the painting, I hear a loud alarm go off in the distance. The painting disappears from my hand and into the Void, leaving me standing there to formulate a plan.

Hears the plan so far:
Shit shit shit shit shit fuck!

So it’s going great.
As my plan starts to form in my head, I walk to the window of the building. I’m on the fourth floor, so I’m guessing the Heroes won’t be taking the stairs.
The Hero Tower is located in the center of the city, so it has equal time to get anywhere, but I’m still far away, because this city is huge. But they have helicopters so…
If I wait a little longer, I can Blink and See what I need, but that might be risky.
So I wait. For 30 seconds.
I cant wait any longer, it’s been a few minutes since I triggered the alarm, they would be here any second!
I Blink and;
—nothing nothing
nothing-
CRASH—
There! They’ll come in through the window. I rub my eyes to clear them from their non-existent grit, and I rush to the window I saw, and prepare for the crash. There’s a bench nearby for people to sit and look at art. I plop onto the bench before laying down, kicking one leg over the other, trying to seem relaxed and chill.

I must maintain the image of a perfect Villain for a few reasons. one; if I seem always put together, they have no weak points on me, and two; the news just eats it up.

Yes, dear reader, I’m vain, please try to keep up.

It only takes a few minutes before I hear two crashes, one after the other.

“Red Hawk! Come out here you criminal!” I hear from my left. I sigh, turning my head to face the Heroes.
“You people could at least try and be more creative with your insults, you know. I’ve already heard that one today.”

As I see the two Heroes, I sigh in relief. the tower only had low-levels on hand. Perfect.
The two Heroes I’m starring at are Pulse and Ironside. Pulse is easy to defeat, all she can do is admit a small, one dimensional shock pulse, basically the equivalent of a large zappy Frisbee. There easy enough to doge, and Ironside is just a hard-hitter. He can make his arms extra strong and durable, but that just means he only does hand-to-hand combat. And I’m very good at that.
I chuckle a little at their suits. The Hero Tower is very heavy on branding, (bit of a red flag there, eh?) so they always make their Heroes suits flashy and bright, but when they get down to the dregs of the Heroes, the lesser known ones, they just kinda slap anything on there. Pulse is in a tighter suit, and its, like, so pink. I can’t stress enough, its just. Pink.
I guess it could be because of her power, the pulses she creates are faintly pink, but it still feels like they just saw a girl and went, ‘ah yes, patriarchy time.’ Maybe that’s just me. Hey, at least her suit has full coverage, its a requirement.

Ironside isn’t looking that much better, to be fair. He’s in this bulky ass suit that makes him look like a pile of rocks. Bright green rocks.

I sigh. the Tower has no chill on neon, man, they need their neon privileges revoked.

Back to the impending fight. The persona I was putting on slips fully in place. “Besides, I’m right here.”
“Well, yeah.” Ironside — the one who called out in the first place— stutters.
“But I didn’t see you, so…” He rubs the back of his neck, the giant gloves he wears impeding on the movement.
I chuckle as I sit up. When I start moving, Pulse shouts, “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way!” as she says this she sinks into a fighting stance, and Ironside follows suit.

I stay sitting for a while, slouching over my knees, trying to look defeated.
I consider my options for a moment. Oh, I’m not giving up, don’t worry, dear reader. I’m just wondering what would look the best on the news. Keep in mind, the news is basically free advertisement for my brand, gotta capitalize, you know?
Sometimes I instigate a chase, sometimes I just disappear to annoy them, but right now?

I feel like punching something.

I say, “Okay.” They both straighten up a little, and Pulse says, “Really?”

I stand to my full height towering over Pulse and almost reach Ironsides height (bro is tall), before looking her in the eyes. I know how bright they must look by now, and probably at least a little creepy, they hurt like hell. The slight shuffling of her feet show the intended affect of them worked.

I let myself laugh a little as I say, “I chose the hard way.”

Before I rush at Ironside. He starts to pull his hands up to cover his face, but I jump, swinging my leg out, landing a hit on the side of his head. I hear him crumple next to me as I land in a crouch, spinning to face Pulse as she shoots out a shock aimed low. I tense my legs and spring up, twisting in the air to land next to her. “Hi there! lovely day, is it not?” I say before she throws a punch at my face. I block it and attempt to parry, but she catches my wrist and twists it. I twist with the motion, sending me spinning away from her.
“Clever girl.” I say. What? I like the classics. Pulse, on the other hand, does not. She makes a face and says “Ew. No.” I respond with, “Yeah, no.” I go to spring back to her, but a hand clamps over my ankle and pulls me back. I fall flat on my face and am then pulled up by my leg as Ironside holds me upside down in front of his face. " You little shit. Why are you always so hard to catch?” he snarls at me.

“I’m not sure,” I say, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “But this hurts my head so I’m just gonna…”
I shoot my other leg, which he had forgotten about, at his head. The crunch as my foot bashes his face is sickening, and also a little satisfying. I can tell I’ve broken his nose.

He screams and lets go, pawing at his bleeding face. I land on my hands, preforming a unnecessary back bend to stand up.

Again, I am a dramatic bitch. Deal with it.

“Never know when to quit, huh?” I say, before sending a punch to his temple. When he falls this time, I know he’s out.
I turn to Pulse. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do the hard way.” I say tauntingly.
She looks at her unconscious partner and says, “Do you promise not to tell anyone I gave up?”

I give her a small smile. “Villains honor.”

She nods to me before grabbing Ironside and pulling him towards the elevator. I pity her, having to lug that guy out of here.

Or maybe I pity her because she’s a Hero.

I’m not sure.

I shrug it off and walk to the broken window, glass crunching under my feet. I step up to the ledge and turn towards the inside. As I stand there, I spot a camera. It must have gotten the whole thing on tape.

I look into it and wink. The news will love that.

Then I take a step back, and fall.

Chapter Text

Nick’s POV
.~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~..~.

My dreams were not dreams that night. They were memories.

My old mentor, wrapping a cut on my arm;

“Don’t think twice, you’ll be dead in a second. Trust yourself.”

Him, slapping my hand, wrapped around the hilt of my sword with the flat of his own blade;

“Turn your eyes from your hands to the heavens, boy! Look where you’re swinging!”

Him, his arm around my neck, squeezing;

“Turn your fear to a weapon.”

He lets go and I slump to the ground.

Him, looming over me;

“And don’t you forget it.”

I bolt upright, a scream caught in my throat. My eyes fly around the room. I place my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beating wildly. I breathe deeply, trying to calm it, clenching my fist in my shirt.
After a while, I feel in control.
I lean forward and hang my head, still breathing hard. This is the third time this week I’ve woken up to my strangled screams. Every night, it’s the same dream, the same outcome, and it still scares me.

Why won’t he leave me alone?

I finally get out of bed, the blankets pooling off the side as I stand. The clock on my bedside reads 3:35 am. I sigh, resigning myself to another sleepless night. I walk out of my room and to the kitchen, pulling a mug out of the cupboard and turning on the kettle.

Mrow?

I look down at my feet and see my cat, looking up at me questioningly, as if to ask if I’m okay.
“I’ll be fine, Little Man, just another nightmare.”
My cat, Little Man is, in fact, not little. He’s a big Maine Coon, the largest cat breed. But he’s just a small boy, it doesn’t matter if he’s 27 pounds, he’s just a little guy.
He twines through my legs, his silver fur looking like a river. I try to focus on how it seems to bend the light.
I turn back to the counter top, pouring my tea, before making my way to the couch. As I sit down, I hear a beeping coming from my coat closet.
I groan, chugging my tea, which burns my throat. I’m really not in the mood to be attacked by crazy people, but I stand up anyway. Little Man meows at me again from the couch.
I give him a quick pet. "Sorry buddy, gotta run."

There ain’t no rest for the wicked, after all.

I open the door, pushing aside the jackets to reach the safe box. I open the large black box at the bottom of my closet and hit the button to turn off the alarm, before reaching for my suit.
I was guessing no one else was going to read this, but what would be the harm if I told you, little ghost?

My name is Nick Vitrum, and I am a Hero.

Or at least, that’s what the public calls me. I’m not very well-liked, truth be told. I would explain, but you’ll see soon enough.

I grab my suit and my earpiece, putting it in my ear.
“Glass Phantom, online. What’s the problem, Mel?” I say as I start putting on my suit.
“Hey Phantom, how’s your night going?” Says the voice in my ear. Mel is my Secure Contact, or Essie for short. Her job is to contact me when I’m needed and relay information during missions. But more than that, she’s a friend.

We ended up talking a lot during one of my first stakeouts. I was a rookie at the time and scared out of my mind. She would talk to me, asking what my hobbies were, and talking about her own life. She kept me calm, and I completed the mission. We’ve been friends ever since.

“Well I’m up at 3 am, so not really that great,” I grumble. I hear her suck in air through her teeth. “Ooh, sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Nah, I was up.” I say as I put my pants on, before slipping into my undershirt.

My suit is an actual suit. A three-piece, to be precise. Pure black, with a gold chain on my lapels. It’s all made of Kevlar, an incredibly tough fabric marital. My boots are combat boots, and I have fingerless gloves as well, but these are just small pieces of a bigger picture. There are two big parts of my outfit, one, my weapon, a collection of claws made out of different materials, some out of metal, some glass. And my mask.
My mask was 3D printed with a tough plastic, it and covers from my nose to my chin. Some parts are solid, while others are a thick mesh so I can breath easy.
The people making it let me install lights that respond to my voice, so that’s nice.

I hear a rustling of papers as Mel says, “Well, we have a museum robbery for you tonight.” I stop adjusting my mask. “What?” I say, “That’s a low-level job, why would I be put on that mission?” I hear a chuckle from Mel.
“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” I can hear the smile in her voice as she says it, and I frown slightly. “Okayyy,” I intone, “What’s the museum’s name?”

She gives me the name and I walk towards my front door. Before I get to it, I turn to face the mirror next to it.
It’s a full-length mirror, and I can see all of me in it, the suit, the mask, the claws hanging on my belt.

I took me a long time before I was able to look in a mirror again.

I close my eyes and put my hand on the cool surface, imagining the museum, before pushing my hand past the glass and stepping through the rippling surface.
Well, I imagine, little ghost, that you knew about my power, if you know any Heroes I would most likely be me. and that’s not me being self centered, I’ve made quite a name for myself. Although, it’s not a very good one.

This is my power, The Manipulation of Glass.

When push through, I step out of a large mirror in the center of a police investigation, and people begin to stare. I’m sure they knew I was coming, but whatever.

A man walks up and greets me. “Hello, Glass Phantom, its an honor to meet you. I’m police Chief Ryan Marks, it’s great to be working for such a renowned Hero.”

The man —Ryan— sticks out a hand for me to shake. I take it and give it one firm shake before dropping it.
“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Marks,” I say with as much sincerity as I can manage at this hour. I look around and say, “Now, what’s happening that would require my assistance?”
Ryan begins talking and leads me out of the chaos.
“Well, a few hours ago, a Villain broke into the museum, took out two guards, nabbed a priceless painting, took out two Heroes that were sent after him, and disappeared.” As we arrive at our destination, I see a computer up, connected to a few wires. The screen is showing a black-and-white grainy still of what appears to be a blur. I lean to take a closer look and ask, “Who was the Villain?”

“Red Hawk, sir.”

I freeze.

No. There’s no way. I reach out quickly and unpause the video. The blur clears out as the person comes to a stop. There’s no mistaking it. It’s him.

The man I’ve been hunting.

Chapter Text

My hands start to shake as I sit down in a chair behind me.

He was here. He was here just a few minutes ago.

I reach forward and rewind the footage to the beginning.
I hear Ryan say behind me, “We had to stitch together a couple cameras angles to catch the whole thing.”
I nod a response before pressing unpause. The screen shows a shot of a elevator, two guards standing besides the doors.
The door opens and after a moment I see Red Hawk rush out, shooting one of the men in the neck with a gun, I watch the man fall to the ground. I turn around and face Ryan. “Is that man still alive?” I say.

He nods, saying, “Yes, it appears that it was only a sleeping dart. He’s still asleep now, but we’ll be questioning he when he wakes.”
I hum a affirmative, turning back to the screen. I see Red standing in the light, his head tilted down.

The other mans mouth moves, and Red looks up, smiling. He then reaches foreword with his gun aiming it at the man.

I see the guard pull the trigger on his gun but nothing happens.
The mans gun is jammed. Red shoots the man in the neck, setting him on the ground and pats his head, before turning and walking away, his coat swishing in the air. The camera cuts, showing another angle as he approaches the painting he stole. He seems confident, and he scoffs, although I’m not sure why. He keeps walking but stops suddenly, his steps staggering, his eyes wander over the painting. He smiles wildly, like he just got the best joke, before beginning to walk around the painting. I squint, trying to understand.

I mutter under my breath, “What is he doing…?” and lean forward. He stops next to the painting and grabs it from the wall. I shoot up in my chair, saying, “What is he doing?” The painting in his hand disappears, and he walks away quickly. Even though I know he can do that it still makes me jump. It’s like it was never even there. It always makes me wonder why he was never signed up for Hero training.

I watch him pace, seeming concerned for the first time. It goes on for a while, at least three minutes, before he stops. He stands there, closes his eyes, and waits. He’s still for

one, two, three, four

seconds before he starts to move again, this time with a sense of purpose.
He walks off screen and the camera cuts, showing a new angle as Red enters from the top of the screen. He sits on one of the benches, reclining lazily, waiting. It takes only a few seconds until I see what he was waiting for.

Glass flies into frame, and my fingers itch at the sight, but I don’t have time to think about that, because two Heroes follow after, running to the middle of the room. I can’t hear what the Heroes and Red talk about, but I see him heave a sigh, and Ironside, one of the Heroes, rub the back of him neck self-consciously. Pulse, the second Hero, shouts something when Red starts to move. He slouches, looking tired.

Admittedly, I bet being a Villain is tiring.

Something makes the Heroes straighten, and I assume it was something Red said. He stands, his height clear. People on social media have tried to figure out how tall he is, but even the Tower doesn’t know for sure.

I think I’m the only one with a chance of knowing. I’m the only person who has been close enough.

Red suddenly launches at Ironside, his speed incredible. I don’t know how he does it, because it can’t be Super Speed, he already has a gift. People can only have one gift, and if they do have two they are related to each other, like being able to control fire and also being impervious to fire. Red must just be very fast.

Back on the screen, I see Red being held upside down by Ironside and have to stifle a laugh. Seeing his coat flipped and hair hanging down is humanizing in the strangest way. He’s not perfect.

‘No, wait, he still is,’ I think as I watch him preform a back bend to stand after taking out Ironside. He turns and says something to Pulse, Ryan says “Now here’s where we we’re confused…” I’m about to ask what he means, when I watch Pulse stand, and walk away.

Red doesn’t attack, doesn’t even follow her, he just shrugs and walks to the window. The camera cuts one last time, and I watch him walk to the window and turn. His eyes seem to wonder around the carnage he has left in his wake, when he looks up and notices the camera, starring straight into it. I bristle, my shoulders hiking up to my ears.

God, I hate him.

He smiles, long and slow, and winks, before falling backwards, out the window, and out of sight.

“Well,” I say very eloquently. “Fuck.”

Chapter Text

So...
I'm not dead!
Just school work and stuff.
I had to redo a large part of the story, it's like an ever changing amorphous blob lol.
I have an outline for the next chapter,.just needs to be written. Either you'll get a chapter by next week or the end of the month, it's summer break and I'm moving to a different state, plus I'm going to Europe for a month 😅

See you soon!
- Alex

P.S Nick and will meet in the next one!

Chapter Text

I hate him. God, I hate him.
Do you know why I hate him, little ghost? Surely you might know by now?
Well, would you like to know?
I will take you back to the first time I met him, then.

two years ago.

I was young in the field, barely vetted to leave the Tower. I was sent out to stop a bank robber from, well, robbing a bank.

I run through the broken doors, seeing five robbers, two with their guns pointed at the bank tellers, the others stuffing cash into bags.
It really feels like a cliche movie scene as I call out, “Stop! Put the guns down!”
A few of the robbers glance my way, but only one seems bothered by my presence. He turns toward me fully, his face covered by a ski mask. He’s holding onto the hair of a woman, his gun jammed up against her temple.

He eyes me up and down, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out if I’m a Hero or just a crazed civilian.
He yells out. “Walk away before I put a bullet through her head!”
He jerks the gun against the woman’s head, pressing it harder into her temple. I can hear her whimper from here.

I raise my hands in a placating way, trying to calm him down.
“Hey, alright. I can’t leave, but if you all put down your guns right now, I promise no one will get hurt.”

That gets everyone’s attention.
One of the men shoving money into a bag stops, starring at me for a second before pulling out a hand gun from his pocket and pointing it at me.

“And what’s to stop us from just shooting you and and taking what we want?” He says with so much malice I feel like I must have killed his mother.

I decide not to worry about the angry man, and sink into a fighting stance.
“Try.” The glass from the ground, shattered and broken, rises.
I feel the pull of it along my fingers, like every piece of glass is tied to my hands by a thin string, like I’m some sort of dangerous puppet master.
I love the way it looks in the light, how beautiful it is. It floats in the air, sparkling in the light.
I pull the glass around me and it solidifies into a shield just in time.

The man shoots. Two bullets fly my way.
They don’t hit. They embed deeply into the surface of the glass.

I break the glass again, letting the bullets fall useless to the ground.
I grin up at the man who shot at me, his face a mix of disbelief and hatred. “I’ve been told I’m hard to kill.” I say.

“This is your last warning. Surrender now or face the consequences.” I call to the rest of the robbers in my most commanding voice.

They don’t surrender. Instead, they decide charging at me like wild animals is the best way to go.

The man with the ski mask reaches me first, his gun pointed at my head.
I don’t hesitate. I flick my wrist, and the glass around the bank—windows, display cases, anything I can reach—responds.
It shatters surging toward me, gathering in midair, a swarm of glass shards. I blast a large piece of the swarm at the man with the ski mask and he falls back. Some of my glass separates and goes for his hand. He drops the gun with a howl of pain. The glass surrounds him and hardens.

I send the rest toward the armed robbers, redirecting bullets in mid-flight. The other robbers scattered, trying to find cover.
My glass follows them, pinning them to walls or encasing them to the floor.
I hope none of them are claustrophobic… ehh, their robbing a bank, they might deserve it.

“Useless cowards!” The leader — the man with malice in his voice — roars at his men.

I don’t waste time. I set my sights on him.
He was to strong to encase within the glass like I did to the others. When I try to trap larger enemies, I have to send the glass in waves. If I send the glass in too big of a swarm they move much slower, making it easier to doge. But if I send them in small swarms, they can be easy broken.

While I don’t like to use more harmful methods, I decide to go for my aptly named ‘Slice and Dice’ method. It wasn’t my choose to name it that, by the way, Mel did. She has a dark sense of humor.

I focus close on the leader, who is charging closer to me now. I pull my hand back into a knife shape, and throw it towards him in a swinging motion. The glass shards sliced through the air, aiming for the weak spots but—nothing. The shards bounced harmlessly off.

Damn it. He’s armored.

He just stands there, smirking. His armor is too thick for my usual tricks to work.

Fuckkk okay, time to get creative.

I pull the glass back to me and shape it into a staff, solidifying it into something tough and hard to break. The glass goes from crystal clear to opaque.
I point the tip at him and move forward slowly.

He chuckles and cracks his neck.

I run and jump, swinging down at his head, but he blocks the hit with one arm, the other coming around and knocking me out of the air, throwing me to the side. My glass staff flies out of my hand and hits the ground. I don’t hear it break, thank God.

I hit the ground with a sickening thunk and I slide, my back bashing against a large pillar. I grunt in a mix of pain and frustration. I push myself up against the pillar and pull my staff back to my hand. My side hurts like a bitch, and I think I may have cracked some ribs, but I just use my staff and drag myself to standing. The man is still standing easily, his posture casual in the most infuriating way.

He scoffs at my staggering, “Are you done already? I tough you were a Hero, or are you just some wild Vigilante looking to prove himself?”

I bare my teeth at him but say nothing, instead taking the time to find his weak points. The man is covered in a light armor that stopped my glass swarm last time, but if I put some more power and force behind my blow I could cut through it. The problem with that strategy is that any vital areas, i.e major organs, pulse points, ligaments, etc, are all covered with a much thicker armor than the rest. It’s a stupidly good suit, and I mark that down to bring to the higher ups later because dammit, that suit is almost as good as mine.

Now, if I wanted to not just knock this guy unconscious, but to knock him unconscious permanently, I could. I could send my glass into his neck and get it over with in seconds.
But I’m not that kind of guy. I could never take a life like that, in such a unnecessary and brutal way. I don’t think I could ever take a life at all, period.

No matter what my mentors said.

That aside, back to the moment at hand. The man still has a loaded gun strapped to his side so far range attacks would be the best option, but I can’t reliably build up the force right now to make that kind of attack count.

I can tell the man is growing upset at my silence, so I make my choice. I take my staff and break it in half, twirling them both in my hands. I glance up at the man who has started towards me again, his face like a bull and his footsteps just as heavy.

I glare at him, and charge. I run up, meeting him half way. I bring my duel weapons up, dodging under his wild haymaker strike and slamming them across his side. I hear him groan, doubling over in pain, before he turns, snarling at me.
He reaches for me, grabbing my arm. I try to pull away but his grip is like a vice, and he pulls on my arm, twisting it before pulling me in to punch me… right in the face.

That… fucking hurt.

I would have fallen back, but the man is still holding my arm, so I’m left standing right next to him. I pick up my leg and knee him straight in the stomach.
He hisses in pain and lets me go.

I’m already starting to tire. My back and side hurt like hell and I think my eye is swelling up, but I can tell the other man is growing tired too. His breathing has gone stilted, and I think I did more damage to his diaphragm than I thought.

If I can get him to chase me, I bet I could put more pressure on his lungs, wear him down before launching my final attack. I slip my weapons into my belt because I might need my hands for this.

I make direct eye contact with him.

And stick out my tongue.

Then turn and hightail it the hell out of there.

I hear him roar in rage, his footsteps pounding on the marble floor, while mine land significantly softer, as well as faster.
I’m lucky to be trained for this, while this guy is most defiantly not.

I slide past a pillar, pushing my hand against it and flip around to the other side, changing direction abruptly.
Now facing the bulky man, I keep my momentum, running towards him. I see his face for only a moment before jumping up. Before I am fully off the ground, I twist, using my hips and core. My leap is high and strong, the final twist before my jump throwing my legs out. My foot collides solidly with his head, my heel landing heavy on his temple.

The man falls, his back hitting the ground with a thunk. I land on my feet, but my momentum almost brings me down as well.
The man begins to reach up, trying to grab at my ankles but I dance away.

Now, little Ghost, I know what I’m about to do is cruel. Morally, I know this is wrong, but I want you to remember two things:

1.This man is a criminal, he robs, he threatens, and I’m sure he has killed.
2.I did not kill this man, and I will not kill this man.

I kneel down next to the robber, blood running down from his temple. His eyes look a little fuzzy and far off, but he keeps swiping at me, his hands grabbing.
I grab his hair, lifting his face.
I cock my arm back, and punch him right in the nose.

He groans, his head lolling back. I just readjust my grip, and punch him again. The eye this time. He coughs, blood spilling from his lips.
He whispers up at me, “Please… stop.” His eye is red, full of blood from popped vessels.

I sigh. “Will you come quietly?”
“Y-Yes.” He mutters, and I nod letting go of his hair.

His head drops down, lying flat. I let him stay down, turning back. My side hurts, everything hurts, but I have to check in on the civilians. I turn my back on him, moving towards the people cowering in the corners.
“Are you all okay? Do you need any he—”

BANG.

Well. shit.

I yell in pain, in fucking agony, as blood spills from my side. A bullet lies on the ground in front of me. It’s covered in blood.

I turn back around, trying not to stagger. I see the man lying on the ground, propped up on an elbow, holding his gun. He smirks up at me.

I glare at him saying, “You asshole,”
I kick the gun from his hand, wincing hard at the pain in my side. I grab the half staff from my belt and kneel back down to the man. “this could have gone so much better for
you.” I slam the weapon into his face.

Aaaand he’s out. Finally.

I shake my head, angry at myself for not disarming him, but I’m glad I’m the only one he shot.

Well. Now I have a large unconscious man, 50 scared civilians, and a four trapped robbers to deal with. As well as a gaping hole in my side.

…Easy.

I stand back up again and turn to the civilians. “It’s all safe now.” I call out to the cowering crowd. “All the robbers have been subdued. You can leave.”
Some rush out, jumping around and over the robbers encased in glass, while others stay frozen, staring off into space. Some of the more awake people try pulling them out of it, and when that doesn’t work, physically pulling them.

It’s not my job to worry about them, although part of me still does. I have bigger problems to worry about. As I stumble my way to the very broken door, I pull my glass to me, trying to clean the place of any shards, not wanting anyone to cut themselves. My power falters a bit, the glass wavering in the air for a moment, before I condense them into a walking stick to lean on.

I limp out of the building and into the waiting arms of the press. I’m sure someone saw the cops and called the robbery in.
The air is filled with the scent of spent gasoline and sweat, and the clamoring of the crowd grows even louder as I step into sight. From where I’m standing I can see four news vans and seven cop cars, although I can’t tell if there’s anymore.
There are a few teens with their phones out, but they stand behind the police tape.

If I was a bigger Hero I’m sure there would have been many more people, but I’m not sure anyone here even know my name.
I’m about to leave, go collapse in an alley or something, when four reporters suddenly surround me, pressing forward. A woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun stares up at me, pushing a microphone in my face.

“Excuse me, sir,” she begins, “you appear to be a Hero, can I ask your name?”
I sigh internally. The Tower announced who I was two months ago, so maybe they’ve forgotten, but it’s possible they just don’t know, the Tower introduces new Heroes basically every other week.

Externally I force a chuckle and respond, “Glass Phantom, at your service.”
Another reporter from the back of the group, a short man with a clean button up shirt, pipes up, “Is your Gift glass related?”
I nod, “Yes, The Manipulation of Glass.”

The reporters nod sagely as another shouts, “Did you know there were hostages inside?”
“Yes,” I respond, “I was briefed before entering.”
“Was this your first high stakes mission?” The woman continues.
“No, but I would say it was my fist solo high stakes mission. Really, I’m just glad everyone is safe, that’s all that matters.”

That puts the reporters back on track, and the last one, who has only been writing up until now, asks, “Any words for the criminals you stopped?”
I swallow my sarcastic ‘Please don’t shoot me next time ’ and give them something usable. “Threatening civilians is unacceptable, and I hope everyone involved is alright.”

A camera I hadn’t noticed before flashes right next to me and I flinch, my vision swimming and the ache in my side returning. I can barely push the pain off for so long, and I’m very lucky the bullet pierced through a only small part of my side, missing any organs, or at least any of the vital ones.

I can tell there won’t be many more questions, so I grit out in the most pleasant voice I can manage, “I’m afraid I have to go return to the Tower and report back in. Have a great rest of your day and send my best wishes to the survivors.”

The reporters wish me well and I walk off, out of the hustle and bustle, away from the voices and the smell of blood that isn’t mine.

I walk for one block, then two, before turning into an alley on the third. I brace my hand against the wall and slip down it, my glass staff falling from my hands with a ping.
I lean my head back into the brick wall and I close my eyes. I feel around blindly for the edge of my suit, pulling it up and away from the wound. I hiss in pain as the fabric pulls at my skin, but it only lasts a few seconds. I look down at the bullet hole and sigh in relief. It’s already starting to heal.

Something interesting about Gifts. If you have one, doesn’t matter what kind you have, you automatically get an increased healing factor. The speed at which you heal increases the higher your Gift is, so someone like me heals pretty fast.

But one drawback is that it takes energy. A butt load of energy.

My recall of this really drives home the point. I start to stand, intending to return to the Tower and catch a nap on the community couch, but my eyes droop, and my limbs feel like lead.

Just a moments rest, I negotiate with myself. Just a minute, then I’ll get right to the Tower. I close my eyes and lean back against the wall.

Just a moments rest…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My eyes snap open as a loud Bang! rings out above me. I flail my eyes around, trying to adjust to the darkness… why is it so dark? I only closed my eyes for a moment.
I glance down at my watch, the glowing face reading 1:38 am.

…Shit. I lift my head, intending to stand and book it across town to the Tower but stop.

By the dim —yet hash— light of the street lamp I see a faint shape. My eyes finally start to adjust.

Across the alley from me, leaning up against a dumpster, a man stands. His silhouette is tall and fit, a trench coat flaring out around his waist. His hair is fluffy and hangs almost down to his eyes. I can’t make out much more of him because the light is coming from behind him, casting a halo around his form.

I realize I’m just staring at this random civilian and cough, clearing my throat. I’m going to say something when the man speaks first.

“You really shouldn’t fall asleep in places like this, someone might take advantage of you.”
I jolt, a bit surprised. I didn’t think he would say anything like that. And his voice is different then I assumed. I thought it would be higher, maybe squeaky, and while it’s not super deep, it’s more resonant than expected.

“Who?— Are you… are you with the press?”
The man chuckles lowly, and his head turns slightly towards me. His face is tilted down, hair fully in his eyes now.
“God no,” he says, still chuckling, “that would be awful.”

I stare up at him, still trying to piece together why he’s here, and why his reaction is so strange. He’s acting like we know each other when there’s no way we do.
“Look,” I say, trying to sound steady. “I’m fine. I just needed a second. It was a rough night.”
“
A little more than rough, from the looks of it,” the man says, “do you always bleed this much or is this a special occasion?”
I groan. I did not sign up for this, I did not sign up for this.

“I plead the 5th.” I mutter into my shoulder. The man across the alley barks a surprised laugh. I smile a little at it.

A pause.

“Are all you Heroes always this dramatic or is collapsing in alleys a personal touch?”
I huff a tired laugh, cradling my side. “Is this some kind of post-battle roasting? Because I did not sign up for—”

“Relax… I’m not here for that.” The man says, and something about his voice sets me on edge for the first time. It’s suddenly gone strange, a bit sweet.
No, not sweet, honeyed.

I’m on guard when I ask, “Then what are you here for?” I want to reach for my glass staff that’s lying around here some where, but if he’s a civilian that wouldn’t look good.
“
Well,” he sighs, shrugging a bit, “at first I was just curious, but now…” he leans away from the wall and takes a step towards me. “now I’m interested.”

I try to shift away but end up just pressing up against the my own wall.

“Interested in what?” I say.

“You.” He says, and his voice sickeningly sweet.

He takes another step forward.
“You’re fascinating, you know that? I’ve watched you before. Not up close like this, of course… but still.”

He tilts his head back. Then I see them.

His eyes.

Cold. Unblinking. Sharp as broken glass. Perfectly piercing and detached, like he’s already imagining how I’ll look when I stop breathing.

And there it is.

The color.
His eyes are a vibrant yellow-orange, just like a /em>hawk’s.

I see his mask, that mask that plagues wanted posters everywhere, that beautifully carved piece of morally wrong art.

Red Hawk is standing right in front of me. Fuck.

“…You’ve watched me?” I echo, stupidly.
He laughs again, soft and sharp like a knife sliding from its sheath.

Don’t flatter yourself. Not in a fanboy way.” He waves a hand vaguely. “More in a… research kind of way. You understand.”

I try to push up to my feet — big mistake. Pain flares through my ribs and I slump back down with a hiss. How has my side not healed yet?
Red Hawk tuts like I’ve disappointed him.

“Oh no no. Stay down. You’ll just hurt yourself more.”

My heart kicks hard in my chest. I find my voice, even if it sounds thin. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Define him.”

“Your Red hawk. The guy who burned out that safe house in Upper East City. The one who—”

Red hawk clicks his tongue, cutting me off. His voice is suddenly much more vicious and mocking. “I hate when you Heroes do that. Reduce everything to incidents. Labels. ‘The guy who did this,’ ‘the man responsible for that.’ As if it’s not all more personal.”

He steps closer, now only a few feet away.
“I’m not ‘the guy who burned out the Upper East’ I’m the one who watched your teammates run screaming. I’m the one who let two of them live, specifically because I knew all of you would hear about it. I’m part the reason you collapsed in this alley like a used matchstick.”

I glare up at him, feeling the fire in my gut rise despite the pain. “Why? What the hell do you want from me?”

He crouches then, slowly, like someone settling down beside a campfire — calm, almost reverent. His voice drops lower.

“…I want to see what happens when I break something you think can’t be broken.”

A beat.

“And I think… that something might be you.”

Chapter Text

“Well,” he sighs, shrugging a bit, “at first I was just curious, but now…” he leans away from the wall and takes a step towards me. “now I’m interested.” I try to shift away but end up just pressing up against the my own wall. “Interested in what?” I say. “You.”

. . . .