A taste of adrenaline is all you need, and a little blood shed here and there can only serve to show you that falling will and can hurt. You don’t just tread lightly, no, you bathe in the sheer satisfaction you feel when you see those reporters’ faces. They’ve doubted you, yes, and they’re dragged your name in the dirt by following in pursuit of the press. But to see the look on their face when countless civilians thank you for all that you’ve done to protect their city; it almost sends you into hysterics.

But this job is very cutthroat, because you can’t tell when you’ve fallen or leaped too far. You don’t feel the bruises already forming on your legs and arms or the gashes that appear from the damage you let yourself take, you surf the tides because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

They’ll never know how you feel under that mask, or the amount of bloody noses you’ve walked out with. Getting all the blood rinsed out of the mask you work so hard to keep up as an image, a sign of hope for the civilians of New York, you pour yourself over that same sink you vomited into so many times just thinking about the stress that weighs down on your boney shoulders. It sickens you, but you know damn well the show must go on.

Raven knows better than to kick the bucket or throw in the towel, and he’ll do neither of those things even if it kills him. It’s always ‘Raven’ this, and ‘Raven’ that. With the amount of times his name pops up on the news you’d think the press was obsessed with him. So damn obsessed with the way he does more than a whole team of fully functioning licensed heroes could do, and at the end of the day he’s not even that tired out.

Ravens are ominous creatures just from a side glance, with those beady little eyes drilling into your head and not moving an inch. They stay on the sidelines, on lampposts or just slightly out of view from your line of sight. They don’t look like much, just wings and a beak. But their claws dig into the ground harshly, their feet are razor sharp and they’ll grab onto whatever they can in their path. With persistence, they’ll fly to any destination they need to, no matter how small they won’t give up.

Raven would surely dig his claws into Channel 888 if he could, the constant buzzing from that sickening voice in Times Square always got on his nerves. Sometimes he wished he had wings so he could fly away from the city life, but he already made a commitment.

He wasn’t playing dress up for the fuck of it, he was concealing his identity so law enforcement didn’t get on his ass for helping someone get their valuables back from a mugging. They were still very much trying to track him down hourly, but the getup did help him look at least anonymous to the casual civilian.

The only traces they had on him appearance wise was that he was gangly and slightly underweight. His shoulders weren’t too petite or broad, they were just an average length. They would never be able to identify what he sounded like, what with the voice changer he so effortlessly installed into the very mask he used. Naturally he had a deep, grim sounding voice. But with the voice changer, he sounded more raspy and undetectable. The voice changer worked well, but it’d always curdle and crackle if he spoke too much with it.

But speaking too much was an understatement, an understatement of the entire century. He couldn’t go long enough without making his own conveniences someone else’s problem. In the media he was always described as being a loudmouth. The cracking and curdling made it almost unsettling, eerie when he spoke. It always sounded like he was talking through a walkie-talkie, and like the motormouth he was he could make a great radio host if he tried.

That’s a funny thought to think of, because what would he do as a radio host? Probably rant about how none of the licensed heroes were doing anything to slow down the crime activity, and he’d probably bite his lip and hold back a concerning comment— or more than likely he’d just let it all spill over. Because really, what did it matter? It was his show, good ole’ Raven could say whatever he pleased.

Because in the media atmosphere at least, it wasn’t about his image anymore or the way people perceived him. They perceived him just fine when he pulled someone out of the road from getting run over when they weren’t looking, or when he’d help the firefighters tame a building that was critically aflame.

So honestly, he could run his mouth all he wanted. The press expressed no hesitation doing that when scrutinizing his image in a not so positive way, so he felt it was only fair. But he never had time to stop for reporters, he never had time to answer questions. He had to get from point A to point B in only a matter of minutes, and most of the time he’d take the rooftops in favour of running through busy crowds of people and getting held up in the traffic.

Yeah that’s a thing he learned when he started not too long ago, navigating through a large city and having to know every single street off by memory was way more difficult than it looked. He couldn’t just pull out a map and calmly assess where he was and where he needed to get to, someone could be breathing their last breath and he would be held responsible if he didn’t show up on time.

But there always were those moments where he got caught up in a crime as soon as it happened, so at least he didn’t need to put in the leg work that much. The vigilante lingered atop a lamppost, as the light below flickered. There was no light surrounding Raven, so only a silhouette could be made out from above the street light as it still continued to scintillate. The night was young, as the city lights had just taken to becoming brighter and more fleshed out. It was calm for the most part, the sound of busy streets and car traffic aired off in the distance away from him.

In his mask speakers buzzed the stoic nature of the police frequencies he was listening to, as it flipped through different stations and stated different happenings on each street. Each flip tried and failed, each flip testified to just how long he’d been waiting there and how even longer he was gonna be waiting until the stations picked up something.

He needed a spark, anything. A common robbery, maybe some shoplifting, something to occupy him.

And that’s when it came.

A sudden tone switch in the frequencies was what piqued his interest at first, as he tried to listen in to the constant static that began to slowly dissipate. It wasn’t much at first, just a few mumblings here and there but he couldn’t make out any words. The more he listened the more it felt like he was listening to someone speak fluent gibberish, but the station flipped again and the words became more clear than they had ever been that entire time.

“Down Wallace street, semi-truck spotted hurdling down road uncontrollably with motorbikes interfering.” The static infested voice shot out quickly, and as soon as the frequencies picked up they dropped again just as quick.

But that was enough to send him climbing down off the lamppost and heading to the street name listed off through the frequencies. Instead of standardized crime it was some road interference. Definitely not his cup of tea, because tea is disgusting and he would never ever want a cup of tea to begin with, but it served for him to get his heart racing, some adrenaline like aforementioned. The street was overcrowded with people when he got there, a little too many to count. He knew he’d have to herd them all off to the side, but with this many people it was near impossible. Maybe getting their attention first would help?

“Hey guys, you may want to move to the side. There’s-“ He tried to get the crowd’s attention, but they weren’t listening.

He nervously shot a glance to the road they were all dangerously standing close to, hearing as an imaginary clock started to chime off in his head. He needed to do something quick, and he needed to do it now.

“Hey guys-“ But nobody even as much as turned a head, so much for that.

“Are you guys even listening?” His voice got a little louder as he wandered through the crowd speedily, still no one paid any attention. “Guys-“ But the sounds of thuds and metal in the far distance was what got him acting faster.

"INCOMING MASSIVE TRUCK!" The lanky vigilante flailed his arms around, making sure to garner everyone's attention. Of course that was easier said than done because apparently that just made more people go onto the road instead of staying at a far distance. So instead, he ran into the road and pulled everyone that was on it back onto the sidewalk. He also however made sure he wasn't being too rough with anyone.

"My god, what part of 'stay out of the road' did you guys not comprehend." He was just stressed, he didn't feel like having to attend whatever the hell this is but truth be told, no one else was gonna step in and do the work for him. If he wants to pack up and take a trip to Hawaii, he'll be risking this city still being a city.

And that's when he heard it, the sickening sound of metal scraping against metal, the sickening sound of what the police frequencies had told him about prior getting closer. The truck barreled through the street, looking as if the driver had no intention of driving the thing straightly or even on the road for that matter. The truck had already seemed to have taken some damage, dents increasing by the minute as the motorbikes that circled around it drove right into it in a periodic manner. He was no expert with guessing right off the top of the head, but the men on those motorbikes definitely needed something with that truck. Just a fair assumption, like said prior he was no expert.

But that's where it became an issue; how did he respond in a situation like this?

He got everyone out of the street, he made sure everyone was keeping their distance from the road, and better yet no cops had pulled up to the scene yet. And that's the thing with vigilantism, it forces you to think fast and on your feet. You might not be a problem solver, but you instantly become one for the city you pledge to protect. There's no hold ups, you just have to throw yourself in and hope for the best. He was risking everything he had, like his safety and overall his whole life.

But as those seconds chimed, and he knew he had to do something, he was back on his feet again with a new plan.

The motorbikes kept launching themselves into the truck, until one eventually came in contact with it so hard that an opening finally formed through the denting. They all made an effort to pile in, slowly but surely working together to pry the hole open so they could fit through. Damn, were those bikes made of titanium? General question here, I think we'd all like to know. And soon they were all in, the motorbikes off to the side of the road and haphazardly piled on top of each other as the truck kept speeding away. So, that definitely meant there was something they wanted that was in the truck. But it was just a normal, plain white truck. There couldn't have been anything realistically in those trucks that was of use, but they didn't just break into it for no reason either. Decidedly, the criminals of New York are really weird.

But on top of the truck, walking very cautiously as to not fall off of the swerving truck, was Raven. How did he get up there? To be honest nobody even saw him get up there, in the blink of an eye he just was. He was quiet with everything he did, always sneaky and calculated. He lowered his body into more of a crouch so he wouldn't be making that much noise, and didn't want the unwanted visitors below hearing his footsteps. And quite honestly it helped further his balance too, even though the average person would've probably fallen off by now. Once he got to the tail end of the truck, he promptly did a quick sweep around of his surroundings. He couldn't just rush in there, the last time he did so it cost him almost the whole entire mission. And he definitely wasn't gonna make the same mistake again, he could not live for that. He was already probably amounting to so much destruction on the streets as it was, so next time this happened he'd definitely have to clear up his position more. But I mean hey, it's not like he had the funds to go and pay for everything. It's not like he got paid to do what he does, so you can't necessarily blame him on that.

Nearing what seemed like the make it or break it type deal, he scurried over to the edge and began to lower himself down to the truck door. One step down, now how the hell was he gonna get in. Oh right, he forgot. He has powers.

Taking a deep breath, he tuned out the world around him and focused on one thing only in particular; the truck door. Y'know, that big steely thing that's heavier than the majority of gym equipment, yeah that thing. He had to move it somehow.

It seemed for a while like he was just hanging there, like he was stranded. He was probably being broadcasted to a bunch of different networks right now across New York, but he did not care. He probably looked insane hanging up there, but that was part of his job he supposed. Looking insane and keeping this city from burning down to the ground, pretty eventful job if you asked him. As his mind cleared itself and it became easier to think, the big door began ever so slightly to shake and rattle, the latches around it beginning to burst open. The door on its own began to dent and implode on itself, almost looking like a fidget toy with how ungodly and messed up it was. It finally caved in on itself and bent down to an opening, the scraping noises becoming even more intense than they already were before. But with the new opening created, this allowed him to traverse easily into the truck that the criminals had embedded themselves in. He sure hoped the driver driving this truck had insurance of some kind.

How the crooks didn't notice him at first glance or heard the door literally getting wrecked by mind abilities was beyond him, but that just made the process ever the easier. Now all he had to do was— oh..

What the fuck?

THIS PLACE WAS A MAZE!

Cabinets and shelves lined the whole back of the truck, labeled all expertly with different kinds of text files. Just plain old text files, probably with things in them too but Raven was just too weirded out to check. Under his mask his mouth was pressed into an 'O' shape, as he navigated through the different columns and all the different aisles leading around. That wasn't an exaggeration, this really was one big maze.

The atmosphere around was dark, save for the purple lighting in the corners of the truck- er, room? And the floor was a rich spruce colour. The more he paraded around, the more he felt like he was being watched in this weird file maze. It was eerily quiet, he was convinced he couldn't even hear his own footsteps as he padded through the different paths he was finding. It didn't feel real, I mean— how could this all fit in the back of a semi-truck. This was probably the size of an auditorium in length, and semi-trucks weren't that wide. Multiple times endeavoring through the file room, as he now deemed it, he had to look down at his hands or slap himself to make sure what he was experiencing was real.

The smell, oddly enough, was weird to say the least. It smelled like a rainforest would typically smell, moist and earthy, very much so like he was surrounded by a bunch of plants and trees. He didn't know that the smell could ever get that strong, and mostly he was shocked that it was able to get through his mask so that he could properly smell it in the first place. If he closed his eyes and took deep breaths maybe he could envision himself in a rainforest, away from all of this. Maybe he could envision himself sitting up on a ginormous tree just relaxing, letting his mind flow freely without having to put up with the constant criminal activity, having a safe and peaceful place to sleep without fear of being evicted. Because how could you be evicted from a forest, from nature? It wasn't an apartment that had due payments, it had life with no roads or buildings, no gas or chemicals to contaminate the breezy air. It was a place for freedom, but in all reality, freedom wasn't ever gonna be obtainable.

As he wandered further in, the thoughts settled in so easily. But he wouldn't let it take away his focus, he just wouldn't. He rounded more and more corners until finally, he overhead talking. It was faint, the average person wouldn't have been able to pick up on it so easily. But Raven had slightly advanced hearing capabilities, it worked in the form of basic hearing modifiers but just built into his mask. He really went out with all the programming in his mask, he really wanted to sell his position as a raven themed vigilante.

That would also explain the perfect vision he had in dimly lit scenarios, the night vision he worked around to add into his mask. He knew it would all come in handy, especially where he preferred crime fighting in the night. Daytime was just too busy and too chaotic, at least at night he could somewhat catch his breath.

He leant up against the wall, staring at the group of crooks that were now in his line of sight with his arms crossed over his chest. Despite being able to hear them from a good distance, he couldn't exactly make out what they were saying. They mumbled their words so much that it almost sounded like a bunch of slurring.

"We need to look for the file." He heard one say, as he leant a little closer. So they're looking for one file in specific, and they're probably gonna spend a millennium with the known knowledge that they're doing it here.

"He'd kill us if we didn't come back with it." Another spoke up, and that's when he clued into the fact that they were all wearing gas masks. With that info intake, it seemed they were all working under someone. The gas masks were quite weird to be wearing, but they must've been for something. A group costume? No. Some kind of gimmick? Most likely. It was just really weird.

But with that in mind and the things he was hearing, he figured he had enough listening.

"You can't just tell me it's not in here, boss told us that-" One of them had been saying before they got cut off rudely- well maybe not rudely because they did make a scene and broke into a semi-truck all the while destroying several things directly in the way. He felt it was sort of warranted.

"Sorry I was late to the party, I had to trace my way around.." He looked to all the shelves around them, and then back ahead of him. "what even is this, a condom making factory?" Raven straightened his back, looking a lot taller than he did prior from hunching.

The men looked— well he couldn't actually tell what their expressions were, what with the massive gas masks blocking their whole face out. "Boss didn't tell us anything about this." One whispered to the group, stepping back. It seemed they were all a good mixture of alarmed and pissed off. "Who even are you, and what the fuck are you doing back here?" It seemed the leader one stepped up in front of the group, still keeping a sharp distance. They didn’t have weapons as far as he could see, but they could be hiding something too. You never know.

“What, do you expect me to just toss you over my ID? Fat chance, I don’t need a weird Halloween cult knowing who I am.” Under his steely mask a smug smile had pressed to his lips, and his body relaxed knowing he had the upper hand. The group probably didn’t even know the basic fundamentals of fighting, and unfortunately for them Raven didn’t tread lightly.

The other man snarled, looking back at the other participants of the gathering before defeatedly returning his gaze ahead. He seemed to have clenched his fist, although the way the man was expressing his anger resembled one of how a toddler would deal with a temper tantrum. But the onward stare, those gas masks they wore, it oddly unsettled him. A shiver didn’t travel down his spine, but he sure felt like his skin would crawl right off his body staring into those soulless eyes of the mask staring right back at him.

It took a good minute of staring before the main malefactor threw the first punch. A rather sporadic, unplanned hit that almost took the man right off his own two feet. With no real obstacle to avoid, Raven just stepped out of the way. Is this how the majority of criminal fights would go? He was right in his assumption, he really did have it in the bag here. He might as well prolong it to make it more fun, make it more worth his time.

“All the fumes you inhaled prior without the mask on are finally getting to your head, isn’t that a shame.” He crouched down low to the ground, putting a hand out in front of him on the ground to balance his weight while his other arm just leant idly atop his knee.

The crook snarled, swinging another hit onto the vigilante. This time the hit had more direction, and definitely better balance too. Accuracy though? What, was he closing his eyes under that thing? The vigilante retaliated by shooting up out of the crouched position he was in, curving his body around to evade the hit and instead respectably shooting his own fist up. And he knew the hit landed when the man groaned in pain from the uppercut, stumbling back. Raven was surprised he could even feel the hits with the mask on, but he supposed he was proven wrong.

“Please, I beg of you, just give up already. For the sake of your own boss, you’re putting in a bad name for him.” It’s not like he cared, but he also did not like the idea that several things could be getting destroyed outside. Screw whatever his mindset was earlier, he wanted to wrap this up as fast as possible. Mission aborted. “We just need to find the file and no one gets hurt.” A different malefactor this time voiced.

“You’ve already inflicted pain upon the people who’ll have to pay for the expenses of fixing everything around the city. And not only that, but now you’re acting as if you’re some kind of threat. Come the fuck on already, actually fight me, damnit!” Now Raven was getting a little snippy, but he had all the right to. The fact that they acted like there was all the time in the world— when clearly there wasn’t. Clearly they were just working off their own time.

Instead of fighting back against him, instead of being any bit more useful in the fight, they all collectively threw something on the ground. At first he thought they were bombing the whole entire back of the truck. But then it suddenly sunk in, literally. They threw gas bombs. They seemed to have the same gimmick as normal smoke bombs, but obviously replaced with toxic chemicals. As the green smoke wrapped thickly around the strangely magical looking file room, Raven held his hand up and pressed his mask closer to his face. It would save him somewhat if he put down enough compression, but the inside of his mask didn’t necessarily have any proper ventilation either that would pull in fresh air for him to breathe. Something he figured he’d have to get to work on when he got home.

And oh— what a jaw dropping moment, he finally figured out why those bozos wore gas masks. It was probably still a part of their weird cult thing, but at least he had somewhat of a reasoning to pin it to. Still doesn’t make it any bit better though if you asked him.

And just great, now he didn’t know where they were. It was gonna become a game of cat and mouse chase just trying to find these fuckers through the toxic smoke that clogged up his visors. Remind him next time to do no talking and just throw punches when needed, would’ve gotten this done and over with a long time ago if he had stuck with that strategy.

He pushed his legs to start moving, and eventually he led himself through the smoke and to a more workable position. He still couldn’t see clearly, but he was able to see the outline of someone. And well, what better than to get the drop while he’s not spotted.

Sneaking up behind the outline, he tapped on their shoulder with a gloved hand.

The outline jolted around and before they could see him, he had reeled back his arm to do a quick warmup spin and clocked his shot right then and there. The punch looked pretty painful, but the fall looked even more painful as the figure dropped to the ground and the gas mask rolled right off their head.

He didn’t remember how many of them there were, just that there were a whole colony of them. Maybe five? That seemed like the amount he saw. Of course though he was already disoriented as it was, so he was forgetting things by the minute.

He kept treading through the gas as he saw more outlines, two to be exact. He was seeing straight tunnel vision, but he was managing and he seemed to be managing alright because he was getting closer to them by the minute. And It wasn’t until he was a foot away that he sprung into action.

He quickly took his stance, leg sweeping one of them and watching as the outline fell to the ground.

“Hey! What the fu-“ And the other was quickly silenced by a good ole’ uppercut. Raven loved those, he utilized them pretty often as they were straight forward and to the point. Just like he liked it, none of this filler bullshit.

The last two had probably heard the commotion because they came running straight for him, but Raven had other plans as he forced them both back with telekinesis and heard the satisfying noise of clattering against the back metal wall.

Dusting off his fists, not like he needed to do it but he figured he’d do it just for the sake of being cocky, he slowly but surely wandered around until he found an opening out of the gas and he took no time whatsoever in getting out. From there on out he just needed to get out of that weird place, that weird file room he had been led to go into. That purple light was driving him crazy, the flooring was driving him crazy, the smell that somehow got through his mask was driving him crazy. He needed out.

He couldn’t stand to spend another minute in there, and so he did what he had to. He navigated down the same path he came from, counting the various cabinets and shelves he passed by as he twisted and turned down different sections. He was wishing on his not so lucky stars that usually didn’t have any faith in him that he could find the exit, he could find that crinkled— well maybe not crinkled, maybe more like a dismantled and fractured door and burst right through it with no problem at all.

He could see the light, he was approaching the end. He could hear sirens blaring from outside as the truck still rattled on the road.

‘CLANK’

He doesn’t know why he stopped running, he doesn’t know why he didn’t just turn right back around and keep running. Curiosity, perhaps, curiosity was what killed the cat. But he wasn’t a cat, he was a bird. A bird with no intention apparently on leaving any time soon. JUST KEEP RUNNING, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING—

“We’re.. not done.. yet..” One of the gas mask men weakly proclaimed, clutching his side as he struggled to walk forward.

And wow, Raven actually felt a semblance of guilt, just a tiny bit. There, he’ll admit to it. After smashing their heads in, throwing them into walls, after doing all that he feels a tiny bit of remorse. But he felt it was all dimmed down after he remembered everything from earlier, all that fuss made on the road just to get one stupid file. Seriously, where were people’s priorities nowadays? But who was he kidding, as a vigilante his priorities were also a tad bit jumbled up as well. He joined in on that club a loooong time ago, no need to reintroduce him to it. “You don’t understand.. h-how long it took us.. to get here.” The criminal stumbled out, getting weaker by the minute.

“Over a file? Seriously, over one singular file? I can’t take you seriously when you say that, I just can’t.” He almost wanted to cry with how ridiculous this was getting. I mean surely criminals weren’t this desperate, and they didn’t go causing havoc in the streets over a singular item. They couldn’t be, they must’ve had better things to do. “The file, it means.. freedom to all who bestow on it..” Bestow on it? So what, his predictions were correct and they are all a part of a cult? Seemed like the most likely option, but it still weirded him out. “What do you mean ‘bestow’?” He tilted his head in clear confusion. “Can you translate that into english? I don’t speak what the fucken.”

“I-It’s the file, it’s the only way-“ The man lowered to his knees abruptly, coughing nastily. If Raven would have guessed, it almost sounded like the man was coughing up straight blood. The way the man’s body roughly jerked when he did another intake, and the way the eyes of the mask fogged up. It didn’t even matter anymore that he was talking to a crook, the man clearly needed medical assistance. The man dry heaved for a little while, and all Raven could do was stand there and watch as he made faces of discomfort under his mask.

Really, what could he do? He would help, he would do something, but in a situation like that he just wanted the man to tell him more. He wanted to know just the sheer amount of importance this file held, but the man was too busy with coughing his own lungs out. And that was when he shrugged his shoulders, his feet carrying him to step away. “T-The file..” At this, Raven turned back with lightning speed.

“The file.. it’s the only thing that’ll g-give him power.. the o-only that’ll s-satiate him..”

Raven listened, letting his mind absorb the information given. It sounded like a lot but he had time, not a lot, but he had time. And he also had a lot of knowledge in cracking puzzles too.
“And how would this said file help him?” Raven pestered on quietly, staring intently down at the man that had been previously hacking up blood. “It’s all.. hidden.. within the secrets..” The man ushered out a last breath, coughing harshly and laying flat on the spruce floor.

Raven raced over, shaking the man. Absolutely not, he couldn’t let him die on him just yet, he wasn’t ready for that. He needed answers, he needed the reason why all of this was happening all of a sudden. Of course it was useless in reality for him to be questioning the lackey, but he needed anything that would help him further along. He needed those few puzzle pieces to start him out. But it seemed to be too late as he tried feeling for a pulse, there was no life left in the man and shaking him wasn’t gonna change the result. The holes that served as eyes on the gas mask remained to bore into his head as he stared back down at them, he felt like he lost but he didn’t exactly know what.

He lost just.. a lackey, a criminal, a henchman of a boss he didn’t know of. That was it, he wasn’t supposed to feel any guilt and he didn’t. But something ticked, went off in his brain when he watched as the man laid still on the hardwood floor, still and not breathing.

Bad guys were bad guys, they didn’t matter. His only job was to protect the civilians, and that’s what he did. But it was the uncomfortable feeling of death, and truly he couldn’t ever feel more dull. His visors served to tint his surroundings, but something with the way he felt sick to his stomach made him feel as though the visors weren’t the only thing tinting his perspective.

He got up with a struggle, not being able to take his eyes off the corpse. But it was the need to get out, the need to see the sunlight again and not an annoying purple hue in each corner as the only light that helped his legs to start working again and guide him out. He let his mind go quiet as all he heard inside of his mask was his own shallow breathing, and the rapid thumping of his own heartbeat. If he was gonna throw up, he’d at least wait to do it when he could safely pry his mask off.

He got back to the door, and it was barely hanging on to the latches that originally clamped it in place. He tried maneuvering around it, but even then found himself struggling with that so he had to move it a little bit more. The door rattled and shook at a vigorous rate until it just completely and utterly broke and scraped onto the road, sparks creasing around it. He jumped out, now seeing that the truck had stopped moving and he just didn’t notice.

To be honest even when he was inside he couldn’t tell it was moving, it was just absurd in there.

With a calculated landing, he landed with a careful roll and immediately ducked out of the line of sight of the just arriving civilians. He ran to the front of the truck whisked away into the dark field, using the shadows to his advantage to get away.

While he made his grand getaway, several cop cars and news reporters had showed up to the scene.

The cops placed down caution tape, refusing the entry of the civilians who waited eagerly behind it to find out what was happening. The tech crew immediately started broadcasting, as the police went inside to check around. It seemed to be just an empty semi-truck, nothing stored within. But it was odd, a semi-truck speeding down the streets at an uncontrollable speed whilst motorbikes repeatedly crashed into it. The bikes weren’t at the scene, but the police had circled around the truck along with the reporters to see the endless amounts of damage inflicted on the truck. Some of the tires had also seemed to burn out a little with all the burn marks, almost completely ripping and tearing off.

The news reporters would report that no casualties were found, just a deserted semi-truck with no driver in sight. Civilians would worry about their city, and no licensed heroes showed up to the scene.

Roads would get closed down for reconstruction, and civilians would be advised to be careful when walking too close to the road for further reference.

And a familiar vigilante would stay seated upon his respective lamppost watching red and blue lights flash at a distance and news reporters rave around. A look of curiosity, dismay, and of pondering plastered under that steely mask of his. A blue light reflected off the visors, being the only light coming from the figure as the light from the lamppost had completely flickered its life away and burnt out its only light in the dark of the night.

Gloved hands with grey tips at the end pulled at the mask, unlatching it and ripping it off with satisfaction to breathe in fresh air once more.

Sweaty tuffs of black hair showed themselves, and the face of a seventeen year old stripped away of his only childhood revealed himself.

He raised a hand to his face as he felt warm, thick red liquid trickling down his nose and down to his mouth. He wiped his face dry, inhaling a big gust of air that cooled him off. His black curls blew in the wind, it relaxed him even after what happened that night.

A boy with a last name ending in Vasher had a puzzle to solve.

And like they always say, the early bird gets the worm.