Hey, so... It's been a while.
Yeah I know, a nearly 6 month hiatus is crazy, even with how insanely long this chapter is (seriously, how is it so long), so I really do apologise. I had a REALLY important personal project that took a while, followed by another project, that all tired me out, I had a ton of IRL stuff to deal with, and in short, it's been a busy time. But I REALLY wanna get back to this, and other stories! So in the rest of the year, you're at LEAST getting chapters 7-11, plus some other new stuff coming up!
Hope you enjoy and thanks for the patience!
WARNING!: Suicidal thoughts and near attempt TW, plus a LOT of depression. Reader Discretion is advised.
Captain Griffin's POV:
March 13th, One Year Ago…
America's littlest city.
That's what it says on the tin.
On every wind torn and faded billboard. On every overused beer coaster. On every tacky brochure, with smiling faces I know are fake.
At least, I think they are fake. I don't have much experience in that area.
The brochure is a dark blue, billowy, ocean like almost. If you stepped foot on it, you could drown.
Maybe it just reminds me of my old uniform. Turns out breathing is a cake walk.
I don't know why I'm trying to look back at it like it was some old joke I only remember the punchline too.
Because I saw the whole set up, and it wasn't funny for any bit of it.
Have you heard it too? It's an old one, but it still rings true, like all good jokes.
It's the one about the cop who thought she could do some good.
Then she's the cop who tries to change the system.
But the system doesn't change, it changes you.
You try to bite, but you only have bark. Bark it can handle. Bark's easy. Everyone barks.
But no one likes getting bit.
I'd caught my partner red handed. It was as open and shut as a case could get. I'd gone that day to court in my best suit, feeling like a woman.
But that suit was still too big on me. I was still just a little girl with dreams too big for their bottomless pockets and inkwell souls.
I came that morning with a song of victory in my chest.
It wasn't even noon when I was told to go home, and look both ways when I cross the street, think when I see something. Jumping to conclusions is as dangerous as jumping off a roof.
The brochure feels heavy on my lap, but it's because of the wallet on it, and the train shaking me around like I'm just a wheel on that train, a tire that is slowly and surely wearing.
I lift it, and a small picture falls out, a rectangle no larger than my scratched thumb, red from all the times I've been called to pull a trigger and call judgement on human beings. Maybe that's why the case went by so quickly. I don't like how both bangs cut the atmosphere and silence the air.
I place it on the thumb, and I stare long and hard, as I wade towards the town, practically somnambulating my way outside.
Shannon. My daughter. She's nothing like me, thank god. Her mind is sharper than this rain that's cutting my vision into a blur.
When I tried to swim in the mud, and sank, I had sent her to live with her father in this place, in Royal Woods, Michigan.
I try to look out, to gaze at the horizon, but it's blocked by the smog. The pavement sizzling the rain, the cracked windows on the eroding buildings, the way my coat feels so heavy already.
Thank god the rain is everywhere. The only clue to my faded heart is the now slightly torn picture, dark blue instead of white, like the uniform I drown in.
…Maybe it's what I deserve for being so foolish and ignorant, for chasing clouds in the mud.
Maybe it's what I deserve for sending the only good thing I've made to a place where hope goes to die with a paper mache smile.
Maybe now the abyss gazes into me.
(Funeral and Far Between - Michael Giacchino, The Batman soundtrack)
Lori's POV: March 13th, Present Day.
I had a bad dream last night.
Standing, or, well, floating by his window, he can't see me. I'm not really trying to hide… Or maybe I am. I don't know, okay, I just… I literally don't know.
I don't know anything anymore.
Yesterday, I felt better. Yesterday, I did a good thing, I did good things! I stopped that misguided 'Heist' lady, I managed to encourage Lyberti, I even had a pretty great anniversary date with Bobby Boo Boo Bear.
All in all, I think you could call that better, a solid hole in one!
…Why can't I then?
Staring at him from outside the window, I defy everything I've ever known as fact. I am literally the only person in the world (at least, as far as I can tell) that can do this, that can defy gravity, that can lift a car like it was a normal feat.
Because I am not normal. Not anymore.
I'm…
Honestly, my opinion on that changes every day.
Yesterday, I felt like… Like I could fill this hole in my heart.
Today, though?
I see him, still on his wheelchair. How much longer, I wasn't sure. The latest update was that he should be out of it in just a few days, which would mean a month since…
Since I put him in one.
I can see him staring at his recently tended wounds. The legs would heal, of course.
But the horrible bullet scar, the one that haunted my nightmares…
That would never leave.
In a strange way, that bullet scarred me too.
I can feel it wedged inside my soul, every turn I take at a road reminding me of its existence.
Doesn't matter the path I take. I carry it wherever I go.
My reflection becomes clear on the window pane, and I stare at my face, suddenly costumed as The Guardian. A mask I wish would sit naturally on my face.
But today…
Today it feels like someone else's face.
The almost spring rain strikes me, but it matches well with my tears.
'I thought you'd put the guilt aside', a voice remarks from inside of me, a voice that has always been a part of me, but is now larger and more talkative since what has happened. A voice that calls out my wishes.
'I thought I did too. I'm trying. It's not that easy, you know?', I reply in a whisper, almost annoyed.
'You're barely yourself anymore. Your friends can see something is bothering you. Your family is worried even though you try to spend more time with them. Lisa has been locked away in her room, surely that is something to deal with? How will you ever improve if you can't let this go?', the voice speaks, seemingly from my reflection before me.
I stare at her. She wears a uniform that inspires hope, and her eyes are calm and resolved.
'Can I let this go? Can I give myself a break for the worst thing I've ever done? I did that for years, and look what it did!', I reply pointing at Lincoln, eyes closed, too young… Too good to deal with such pain. 'It should have been me. It's my job as the oldest sibling to take care of him, of all of them! And with these powers, it's my job to protect everyone!'
'Then why are you so stressed out?', the reflection asks, and I look down, with shame.
'I don't know. I thought I was getting past it. But… I had a bad dream last night.', I reply, and I settle down on the ground, hidden by the rain. I have my other hoodie on, a grey one, the eye shadow is already applied, and the pants. But I don't feel like the other things. They're too heavy to wear right now, so I carry them in a backpack instead.
'What bad dream?', the voice inside me, the one that wishes to move on, become the best version I can be, asks in a worried and demanding fashion.
I look back, and see Lincoln notice me. He smiles and waves, unaware that I failed him once again. That I am the author of all his pain.
'...That I could put this aside. That I could be a hero.'
And with that, I walk away, water surrounding me, drowning me, but never cleaning me.
(Something in the Way - Nirvana, Film version, The Batman)
Captain Griffin's POV:
March 13th, present day.
The anniversary kept me busy, so I had a little more coffee than I probably should have.
Not that it matters. Won't change anything. What does, really?
I stare outside and see the misty clouds, misshapen yet rigid, twisted yet uniform.
The television garbles out the news and it's what I've heard a million times before, stated the same way a million times before, because it's nothing new, and we don't have the time to tune in and not tune out.
According to the man with the fancy suit, weather's been better until now.
I don't see it.
A commercial for some magic store plays, showing a van named 'Magical Mystery Tour', near the outskirts of town. I turn the TV off, annoyed at the noise, needing some quiet.
I don't get it.
Footsteps. One at a time, slow, methodical. I don't need to turn around to know it's my daughter. Her laboured breath informs me of that.
That is one thing that has changed.
'It's 7:45.', she says.
I don't turn around. I try to give myself a reprieve.
'You're gonna be late.', she insists.
'You're gonna be late.', I turn around on her.
She, Shannon, who looks nothing like me, yet is so similar to me. Maybe that's why we don't go a day without fighting.
'I'm not the one still in pyjamas.'
I breath out slowly and grasp the stupid thing in my palm. 'I don't have the energy for this.'
'Or for anything.', She mumbles, getting ready to go.
'I did, once. Look where it got us.', I reply, sharply, angrier at myself than at her, yet giving her the bark. What is wrong with me? Why does the switch feel so far away?
'Yeah, and that sucks, mom, but you did it for the right reasons. I told you that, and if Dad were here…', she silences, and I don't blame her.
'...He went to grandma for mental reasons. He just needs some space.'
'...Keep telling that to yourself.', she hurts me with her words, but I know she's right. They were all right.
'I…', I start, and she looks up. I can't meet her eyes. I can't move my head. I know I'll quiver.
'...You can't change everything, Shannon. People, things, they're locked into place, like… Like the explosive inside of a bomb. You tamper with something that volatile, something that inherently violent… It's on you for not expecting the boom.'
She lowers her head, and for a moment, I wonder if she is listening to me.
But she raises it, and says with a strange firmness 'And sometimes, you turn the bomb off.'
I shake my head. Here I am, contradicting myself, trying to change someone even more rigid than most, like my daughter.
'The Guardian turns it off.', she suddenly states, and I look up, disgust spreading on my face. 'She's a vigilante.'
'What, are you jealous? She's at least trying. She's at least alive. You're simply doing the motions, a ghost that can't move on or even use your failure as a tool. Out of some misplaced duty? You're just pointless!', she says, darkly, and immediately regrets it. 'No, I… Mom, I'm sorry, it just slipped…'
I raise my hand, calming her down.
'It's okay. You're not wrong. But I am trying to be responsible. I do have a duty.'
I stand up and try to stare at her this time.
I fail.
'...Making sure I never make that mistake again. So at least… At least you and Gale… At least I can keep one thing in place. At least I can do that.'
She sighs, but I can see that perhaps a little understanding has been achieved.
'Then why do you go after the Guardian? It's the only thing that seems to shake you.', she asks.
'...Because even if her intentions are pure, she's just going to wind up dead. Or worse…'
I leave the room.
'Like me.'
I change my clothes, feeling the scars on my back. They mean nothing, just mindless numbing pain.
I look at my reflection in the badge. It has no rust. But I know better.
I pin it on, and feel the little prick on my heart.
The badge is a clip on.
I walk out, not caring that I'll be late, not caring about the ceaseless rain. Today doesn't feel like it matters with that.
I barely even feel the adrenaline I had recently with regard to that vigilante.
I almost feel pity.
How could anyone like me be anything but happy?
Maybe if I stop her, it doesn't just help me do something, it helps her.
Maybe I can save her from the lie we all tell ourselves, that we have control.
I look up at the clouds. Transfixed and warped.
I want to change them. I want to move them and see that sunlight, see if it's as bright as I remember.
But I can't.
There's just…
Something in the way.
(Can't Fight City Halloween and It's Raining Vengeance - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
Lori's POV, Same Time:
I walk down the street, the rain still gushing down. I can barely see thanks to the mist. The workplaces, signs, and cars just seem invisible.
But not the people. I can see all of them.
Old people, coats fluttering in the wind like the sail of a ship. Employees, covering their files with umbrellas. Babies, protected by their strollers from the pouring judgement.
But not from the danger.
It's everywhere, I can see it. I was blind then… Maybe I still am now.
But I can see them. All of them.
Even with my grey, average appearance right now blending into the smoke, I'm being side eyed by some people. If they knew I'd already fought them once.
Having started following this sort of stuff since I became the Guardian, I've noticed that it's the Industrial district that has the largest crime rate. I don't know why, to be honest, but I don't really care about that right now.
All I see are the Lincolns of the world, about to be hurt by the shadows.
And I'm the only one who can prevent that right now. There's no one here, no police (not that that would do much help), my parents…
Just me.
The one who let her brother get shot.
For a moment, I want to shake the guilt, focus on what matters.
But instead, I choose to let it fuel me. To feed my self hatred, and use it. I feel it burn a hole in my chest, gaping and everlasting.
I need info on this Raven guy, and I need to do my regular patrol.
I need to make sure no other Lincolns pay the price.
As I turn away from the falafel place, and walk through one of my usual allies, the smell of mud and cobblestone fills me. It almost feels like the only home I can have. Here, in this disgusting and lonely place, I can at least… I can at least try and do something.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Even now, with all my guilt, I know I must do this job. I WANT to. I want to do the little I can. I just can't help but wonder…
If it won't just inevitably end in failure?
If another Lincoln will be hurt, or worse, and I could have done better and I didn't.
Mistakes are mistakes, everyone makes them. I know that. But in my current profession, mistakes are even scarier.
Yeah. I'll say it, even if I'd never admit to literally another person.
I'm scared.
I'm scared that…
That I'll still hurt people.
Yes, I'll hurt more if I do nothing. I don't ever want to go back to that. I REFUSE to.
But from what I remember of middle school English when I wasn't biting my yummy pencils (they should really make that a yoghurt flavour) or having decidedly unhandholding thoughts about Bobby, the lesser of two evils is still that, no?
Evil?
Suddenly, I hear it, the noise I dread, the noise I hate.
I look up and notice that at the end of the alley, there's some kid, surely no older than Lincoln, being cornered by some thugs.
I don't think I fought them before.
Too bad. I would have loved to kick their asses.
'Hey, come on, little man, we just wanna know where your parents are. I'm sure they'd love to know we found you, all safe and sound…'
The voice, it reminds me of the smoke that is surrounding me, like the mist that's around the clouds today.
'No, let go of me! Let go!', he cries, clutching onto his rabbit plush, but clearly, simple fucking decency is at short supply here. Those people… Those monsters… They want to kidnap this boy, surely. The man takes his bunny and throws it to the ground.
Selfish and disgusting, with no regard to anyone else.
They remind me of me.
They remind me of ME.
I feel it, the rage and fire storming within me, growing, roaring.
You won't hurt this innocent boy, not another.
I won't let you.
I'll hurt you and break you.
Like I should have been.
But I don't fly.
I simply walk towards them.
Step. Step. Step.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
My boots, trudging in the puddles and the muck.
My eyes, dark and serious.
My fists, clenched.
My soul, set aflame.
'Let. Him. Go.', I whisper, almost growling. I drop my backpack to the floor for now. I have to stop them, I have to hurt them, to teach them a lesson they'll never forget.
'Who the hell are you, little girl? Eh? His sister?', the main guy asks, brandishing his little knife at me, smiling through broken teeth.
Not broken enough.
The boy looks at me, scared, crying, but I divert my gaze.
'What do you want?', he asks me, smiling evilly.
I see the man who shot Lincoln.
I see myself.
I see what I swear I never want to see again, selfish monsters who hurt those who don't deserve it.
And I do what I must do.
I protect everyone from people like me.
(BASH!)
I bash his skull with my right first, seeing his nose twist satisfyingly.
(BANG!)
I sock him with my other fist, hearing his cheekbone crack. He won't smile like that for a while.
(BOOM!)
I headbutt him, and blood gushes out, spilling a little on the side of my nose. I don't care.
(THWACK!)
I kick his chest, making him huff and move down from the pain in his lungs.
I pick him up and…
(CRASH!)
I smack him with both my firsts, sending him hurtling towards the wall. The force is powerful enough to break it somewhat, but not to do too much damage.
While the other goons look around scared, and the boy doesn't understand, I look down at the knife that was dropped. I pick it up, and scratch out a 'G' on the center of my hoodie. It's ruined now, but it doesn't matter.
I try to be the Guardian, even though it's hard.
'What the hell… What is she…', they start, only to see the 'G' that everyone in Royal Woods now knows.
That, and I'm floating a little. That probably helps.
'What do I want?', I echo, staring down at the filth.
An angry and demanding whisper comes out of me.
'Justice.'
I stay standing, waiting for them to make a move.
'And information. About 'The Raven'.'
They jump. Surely, they know something.
I decide to cut to the chase, and float forwards, making them run. Time to get busy. Time to stop that guy from making things worse.
They scuttle off, boots scraping the stone floor, dust kicked up into the boy's face, who coughs. I look back, wanting to do something…
But I don't. That's not something I'm brave enough for right now.
I land on the ground, and, following slowly and surely, I show them how serious I am about this.
'Why isn't she flying?', one asks, and I see him reach for his knife, terrified, hesitant, unable to choose what to do. I can relate.
Maybe that's why I knock him out a little lighter than the rest.
Step. Step. Step.
I almost feel like I'm outside my own body. I feel this fire raging inside me. A fire that right now I am not taming. I have a mission, and while I still have the power to undertake it, I will.
Even with the other voice, the voice that is so afraid of what I'm truly capable of, reminding me of all my doubts and fears.
All of it, it boils and mixes inside of me, to create something different, different than who I want to be, and who I am afraid of being.
A girl full of determination, fear, anger and desperation.
'Lose her! Lose her!', they cry, hoping to spread out. But we've reached a dead end. They turn around, like trapped animals, and stare in fear as I slowly step forwards, my boots crunching on the leaves that gathered here.
'W…What do you want?', they ask, huddling and shaking.
'Information. About 'The Raven'.', I whisper harshly again.
One man is pushed to the center by the others, pushed towards me. He shrinks at the sight. I don't know if I like that or not.
'We… N-No one knows a-anything.', he says, stammering. I move towards him a little and he jumps.
'Bullshit.', I spit out. 'You know his name! You literally ran away when I said it!'
He shakes again, the others not knowing if they should run off or not.
'But I'm honest, Guardian! We really don't…', he tried again, but I lifted him by his neck. He chokes and struggles, bloodshot eyes looking for a saviour.
I look him in the eyes, and he looks into mine. 'Honestly, dude? I'm having the WORST day. And I'm not exactly 'livin' it up'. So why not be really cool and help me do the least I can do?'
I almost growl. 'Answers. Now.'
He looks back and forth, as if he's going to be shot, and then, he starts talking. 'Okay, look, I really don't know. WAIT! I really don't know, and no one does, because the guy isn't fond of… loose ends.'
I nod. That DOES sound like him. He's been a step ahead every time, and I still know almost nothing. Why does he have that werewolf? And how could someone like Mr. Stone work for him? How did Organised Chaos find the lab? So many questions, and sadly, I'm the only one who can answer them.
God, he BETTER give me something!
'But… There is one person.', he says so quietly I barely hear it. 'They go to the 'Fox's Den'. That's where you fought that Heist woman, remember? They were let go or something.'
'How?', I ask, raising an eyebrow.
'It's hard to tell, to be honest. Guess even 'The Raven' has a soft spot. Or maybe they're only on a short vacation. Whatever it is, they've been hesitating. It's not much, but if I were you, I'd take advantage of that before the old bird comes in and makes sure they never leave his sight.'
It's not much, but it's something. I can tell. His eyes tell the truth. His eyes are scared, but sure.
I know, because I don't recognize such a look.
Dropping him, I turn to the other thugs, all still scared.
'Now, how about we take a little vacation of our own? I hear prison's lovely this time of year. Bet the selfies would be fire…'
(Zombie - The Cranberries)
Regular POV:
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The man with the top hat that had a blinding sheen and a hollow centre observed the large ancient looking building, as he shuffled cards with his perfectly white gloves that showed not an ounce of dust and dirt.
'Gonna be quite the score, eh, boss?', 'Rabbit' asked, wearing a grey and white coat and brandishing a spotty bald head.
'Simply the dress rehearsal, 'Rabbit'. The show has not yet begun, we're simply reminding our audience that the magic is coming.', the man answered, tidy and precise with every word. There was a real dryness to his voice, not a hint of intention displayed in any of his chosen words.
Snapping his fingers, the man revealed two alluring ladies from behind him. One wore a sparkling dress, fishnets, and seemed to pop out of the 1940's. Her looks could only be described as movie magic. 'Lights, Camera, Action, Hocus.'
The other woman, meanwhile, appeared almost distractingly normal and average. In fact, she was that in every way. Average height, build, nose size, cheek width, hair colour, eye colour. She dressed as any business oriented woman would for a trip to the bank. She looked at the man, and only the tiniest hint of something was present. She nodded, precisely, the movement barely perceptible.
'Present and accounted for.', the man addressed, to himself more than anything. 'The gaff is to begin, standard procedure.' He finished shuffling, and the 2 of spades showed up. 'Bunny', tunnel, security office.'
He then revealed a Queen of Diamonds. 'Glamour', front stage, backstage, gurney.'
Then, the Queen of Clubs. 'Illusion', same as 'Glamour'.
'And you, boss?', 'Bunny' asked, as he went over to the tunnel hidden at the construction site nearby.
The man, straightening his black bow tie, barely even blinked. 'Simple. I'm the trick.'
And so, it began.
Stepping inside the building, almost mechanically, the man walked up in line, and waited. He didn't look at his pocket watch made of gold or tap his black step shoes, or even twiddle his hooked and symmetrical nose at the heavens. There was no rush. It was more real if it took more time.
They were all almost in the basement anyway.
Minutes passed, tick tock tick tock. Never changing, never stopping. Like the hands of the clock, the routine twitched along in the exact way it was measured to do so.
'Number 53? Number 53, step forwards please.', the garbled voice came from the PA system.
Brisk nod, brisk walk, clip clop clip clop stop.
'Ah, Mr. Arno! What brings you here today? Your cloaking tech advancing well?', the teller asked, making conversation, the exact conversation he was orchestrated to make.
'Depositing a check. Pingrey Enterprises.', the man replied.
'Ah, you have your 'victim'!'', the teller joked, a polite chuckle elicited.
'Indeed.', was the cold, almost throaty response.
'Well, sign your name and I'll get to it!', the teller said, and for just a moment, the man couldn't help a tiny, hidden smile. 'Adorable. He thinks he's directing.'
Gripping the pen, the man counted to three.
'What do you mean 'no longer financially viable'? You saw the profit margin, I am this close to breaking into the inner market!', 'Glamour', still dressed as she was, prompting some silent mocks and sniggers, began prodding the glass of the teller with a hijab.
'Ma'am, your losses are spiking. We told you that last loan was final. I'm sorry.'
'NO YOU'RE NOT!', 'Glamour' was so loud, that people began filming the encounter, planning to post it under 'karen' tags. But it was about to get a lot more inflammatory.
'All you people want us real Americans to fail! I bet you changed the details to sink me, you terrorist!'
Yeah, that would do it.
As 'Glamour' kept on violently prodding the glass, making the abused woman back away, deservedly angry at the treatment, people shouted over the footage they were uploading, criticising the horrible woman. Then 'Illusion' walked over to 'Glamour' and spoke professionally, her name tag flashing her supervising position that she had acquired over the past few months, due to her exemplary work.
'Illusion' pointed outside, while a security guard stated that charges would be pressed.
'PRESS THIS, BITCH!', 'Glamour' cried out, punching the man, and getting held back by two other security guards.
'Oh, god. This again.', the teller replied, sad look in his eyes. He couldn't hear the tiny scratch on his desk, or the small clink of two small metal pieces meeting.
'A shame.', the man replied, and he handed over the pen, name already signed.
'Thank you. I guess at least it resolved quickly. Quite eventful here today so far.', the teller made conversation. 'Wonder if there's any more excitement.'
'Oh, I never wonder.', the man replied curtly. The tiniest chink of a bite on metal could be heard.
The teller, meanwhile, tried to push open the pen, but it wouldn't move, despite a click. Pointing it at the glass separating him and the man, he tried pressing again and shaking to make it work.
BANG!
A horrible whistling sound, and the teller stared through the bullet hole shape in his window as the man before him collapsed to the ground, blood seeping from his chest.
A horrible scream erupted as the people inside began to panic, filming the teller with the pen who was clearly responsible. 'I… I don't know…', he started stammering, as phones notified the police, when their owners weren't rushing outside to avoid more tragedy. 'Someone call a medic!', a man shrieked in fear.
Suddenly, A woman in paramedic gear with a gurney arrived, and an ambulance whistle was heard. 'Thank goodness the hospital is so close by.', one woman remarked, as the body was placed onto the gurney and covered in blankets and strapped in. The gurney then suddenly went upside down, to test the strength of the strapping. People nodded, since they don't understand how this kind of shit works.
Moving out, the paramedic left, while a man in a pure white buttoned shirt entered, shoving through the exiting mass. The bank was practically empty now, excepting the teller who was frozen shocked at what had occurred.
'What am I going to do?', the man asked quietly.
'Nothing.', came the cold order, and the pen was grabbed.
BANG!
After positioning it to not look like a murder, and grabbing the cash from the security boxes, the man walked calmly and surely towards the security office where the footage was being shot and kept.
Clip clop. Tick Tock.
The moment the man arrived, so did 'Bunny'.
'How do ya always do that?', 'Bunny' asked. 'Right on time, before I even got through?'
'Why do they say 'practice makes perfect'?', the man replied, finding the tapes for the exact 15 minutes they were there.
'But, I don't get it. You keep treatin' this like it ain't a big score. We've been stakin' this bank out for months since we arrived at Royal Woods. Isn't this the one, then we move onto Chicago?', 'Bunny' asked, scratching his head.
The man said nothing. He simply smiled, putting on the rare sight. '...'Bunny', would you do the honours?'
'I'd be glad to, boss, but I don't wanna leave prints. No gloves, see?', 'Bunny' pointed out.
'Oh, but we do want to leave prints.'
'Bunny' was still confused. 'I… I don't get it, boss.'
The man let out a small, amused chuckle. Shuffling the pack of cards again, he removed in front of 'Bunny' the the Queen of Diamonds and Clubs, that were apparently up his sleeves. 'Bunny', tell me… Why does a magician remove a rabbit from a hat?'
'Ugh… Hmm…', 'Bunny' scratched his head in thought. 'Because it's amazing?'
'Oh, no, no. Well… Once, yes. Once, in the past, it was.', The man lectured, strolling around the room, waving the earnings in his hand. 'But after a while, the trick, the whole act, goes stale. We have to go bigger, better, bolder. Stage magic is only still relevant because it now shoots for the moon, and not the cheap seats.'
'Yet… Still, we take a bunny out of a hat. How come?', The man walked towards 'Bunny', and placed the cards in the thug's hands. Looking down, he saw that they were all 2's of spades. The assignment hadn't been random at all. Looking up, he saw a 53rd card. An ace.
'...To let them know the show has begun. And the magic is coming.'
SNIKT!
And with that, 'Bunny's' head fell right clean off. Throwing the card away, The man deleted the footage, satisfied that the robbery was just the right amount of messy but not too messy to be detected, but not to be suspicious. They would be onto him, but when he wanted them to.
His captive audience would arrive when he had his trick ready. Then, then… Perhaps…
He'd feel the magic again.
'Hocus Pocus…', he whispered, bowed to himself, and left the room.
Curtains.
(Something in the Way - Nirvana, film version The Batman)
Captain Griffin's POV:
I drive down the street, the wipers making a futile attempt to wash away the pouring rain. I don't know how I don't crash.
Through the corner of my eye, I can see a dead homeless man, the only witnesses to his corpse being the flies savouring his flesh, and the clean, almost shiny re-election posters for Mayor Volte.
With the very breadth of my ear, I can hear the sharp whistle whisper of a drug deal. I'd stop it, but then the commissioner would just tell me to let him go. He's a good customer, I'll give him that.
The wipers can't hide the torrent, and they can't hide the line of starving faces, faces that look like my own.
I slowly look away.
A creak, and the door opens too fast. Hinges loose.
I move on, feeling the water rush down on me. Something… Someone… Rushes past me, and when I turn around, a ton of confused, scared criminals shiver in the corner near the station.
'The Guardian?', I ask, barely able to muster a whisper, cracked like the glass of a shot car mirror.
'The Guardian.', they all whisper back, too afraid to fight back.
Actual criminals, and not ones that will get a free pass.
I should be happy.
I should.
Then why can't I?
Why does my face feel paralyzed into place?
Registering the men for arrest, via confession for more crimes than I'd want to list, I move across the office, and take a seat waiting for the commissioner to see me. He'll have some pointless assignment for me. Ever since I've shown my intentions for The Guardian, I've been suddenly tasked with monumental jobs such as parking duty and prison maintenance, that aren't even part of my qualifications.
In front of me, on the bulletin board of cases, headlines, announcements, I see her. A lone picture in the middle, saving a bystander from that Heist woman yesterday. The TV won't shut up about it either, still running stories about yesterday.
'...Impressive, isn't it?'
I look up, a little startled. I had no idea someone sat down next to me. A quick once over tells me that the short, seemingly unimpressive man is exactly who I think it is.
'Mr. Tetherby. Didn't expect you.'
'Rich man making promises. I can understand that viewpoint. In fact, I agree with it.', he says, a strange look in his eyes, almost… normal. He seemed so poised on the news. 'My brother, as much as I want to reconnect with him, he's… He indulges in things beyond reality. And my parents…'
He trails off, and I can sense something, but I'm not quite sure what it is. He shakes his head, and looks at me. 'Anyway, I… I was just saying that she's impressive.'
'Ah.', I mutter, feeling an eye roll coming on. 'The vigilante.'
'Yes, she is. I trust you can see I would rather fund our legal law guardians. I just mean…', he has a glazed sheen now in his pupils, and it's the most life I've ever seen come out of him. 'Say what you will, but she goes out there, and does what she can to help this city. Maybe her ideals aren't misplaced.'
I scoff, and the only sound for a while is the beeps of the monitors, and the rings of the phones.
'...And yet it's all still horrible around here.'
'Well, that's what I'm here for. Trying to give you more control over all this chaos.', he replies, and I don't have the energy to want it, let alone to push for it.
'I had that once.', I whisper, to myself, but he catches onto it.
'I know.'
I'm not surprised. Why wouldn't he? It was big. Too big.
'...I'm sorry.'
Now I am surprised. His voice sounds full of… Sorrow? Understanding?
He turns, and I swear I can see some mist in this fog.
'I… I know what it's like. When they don't listen. When they would rather have us all drown in the fire. Not even burn instantly.'
'...Says the rich man.', I reply darkly.
He actually nods. '...That's why I'm trying to switch sides. I'd rather offer a hand than a push. After all, my parents… They…'. He trails off again, but I now understand why he does. I just caught the old headline on the 'accomplishment' board.
We both sigh.
'Well, it doesn't matter. I won't do much today anyway. I always seem to be busy helping out the minor departments.'
'I thought you were chasing The Guardian?'
'When I can. Maybe that will mean something. I don't know. Maybe… Maybe at least I can get her out of this storm, and she won't know what it's like to be me. Maybe that's something. Maybe that's good enough for this city.'
We look at each other, and there's an invisible nod at the insurmountable walls.
'For what it's worth, Captain… I hope I can be of some minute assistance. Perhaps there is comfort in sharing an umbrella during this downpour.'
I know what he's trying to say, and I afford the tiniest, smallest blink of acknowledgement, as the door opens for me.
'Perhaps.', I say, but I don't believe it.
As I leave, I take one more look at the TV, droning on about what she did yesterday. About the lives she saved. Lives that will soon suffer more. A never ending cycle.
'...Leave. Before it eats at you too.', the smallest sympathy left in me whisps towards her visage, and I drudge into the office, Tetherby behind me still staring off into space, as if he is trying to tear down the walls through sheer desire…
(World's Worst Translator - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
Lori's POV:
The Fox's Den.
Lying inconspicuously in the middle of the district, the place where I fought Heist. Dingy, unassuming, wood that somehow doesn't seem ruined by the rain.
I'd never heard of the place before now.
To be honest, it sounds made up. A bar that serves as a rest spot for criminals? How bad has it gotten for my town that this exists?
Whatever, that's not important right now. What matters is finding the person who can tell me about The Raven.
I decide not to waste anymore time.
(THUNK!)
The doors are wide open to the public, permanently. Place could use some sunshine anyway, it was as depressing as my sister Lucy.
Some of the patrons look up towards me, and seem confused, but I make sure to answer their internal questions quickly by floating up and showing my symbol.
All the nasty faces pale. There, that should do it.
'Good morning.', I greet, in a serious tone. I land on the floor, causing a small thud, and I slowly step forwards towards the bar table.
Side to side, I look each criminal in the eye. Some I don't recognize, with their tattoos and mangled teeth. Others are ones I have seen, fought in fact.
The guy who held up the gas station four days ago, somehow already out, takes a step back. I make sure he knows I'm not amused at seeing him out and about so quickly.
There's also some guys and girls I fought nearly a month ago. They all wave anxiously.
'What is she doing here?', one whispers.
'I thought she had a cape. What's with the different look?', another asks.
'She seems so scary sometimes, and sometimes she's so… not?', a third adds.
I ignore it. I'll be scary if I have to. I'll be anything if it means I can do something. If it's not making things worse.
I arrive at the end, and when I turn around, everyone stares at me, transfixed. It's so quiet, you could hear a mouse fart.
'What… What do you want, Ms. Guardian?', the bartender asks, clearly not used to being physically intimidated.
I'll make sure he's used to it.
Not turning to look at him, I keep an eye on all the other people, looking for someone that sticks out.
'I want some help. Intel, to be precise. About The Raven.', I declare, not loudly, but not too quietly. I give everyone a cold stare.
They laugh it off.
'Us, help you? Nah, we've helped ourselves to your beatings plenty already!', the guy who held up the gas station sneers, and some snigger with him.
'Oh, really? I haven't fought most of you.', I remind him, narrowing my gaze. 'And I'm sure you all have very good reasons to have some more, or make besties with my fists.'
'We saw what you did to Oliv… Heist. We're not idiots.'
'Are you?', I ask, hatred lacing my words. I stand up straighter, my fists clenched, and everyone jumps.
Suddenly, one of them comes at me from my right side. Others are warning him, but he doesn't care.
Neither do I.
(CRACK!)
He falls to the floor, his jaw broken.
Two more idiots charge at me.
I lift both by the throat, fly up a little, and (SMASH!) them down to the ground, wood splinters and sawdust in the air now.
One more comes, and I (THWACK!) their head onto the bar table. Blood drips from the table onto the asshole.
I look at the rest of them, smart enough to stay frozen in place.
'All of you… Some of you… Spend your lives eating away at others, like mosquitos. Parasites. You're so caught up in your own needs, that you forget about other people, even those you care about. Or at least pretend to care about. If any of you have a shred of common fucking decency, of a soul, then you will use your hearts for once, and give me what I need to stop someone far worse than you.', I declare to them, anger, determination, resolve, spilling out of my throat.
The looks on their faces suddenly fall. Not all of them. But some. Sadness, present in their eyes. Regret? I almost feel bad for a moment…
Almost.
Finally, my eyes catch theirs at the same time, just when some of the other patrons begin to point, make way.
'...I guess it was only a matter of time until we'd meet.'
They look at me, with hair that parts at their eyes, covers them, like the leaves in a jungle cover a tiger. Their face has a rough, scratched up nature, but also a sort of softness, fading, but echoing. They extend a hand, and I can feel the ice cold metal of a wedding ring.
'Renaud Bailee. Have a seat?'
I don't move.
'Suit yourself.'
The silence at the pub is near deafening. The other patrons suddenly begin to leave, and I give a confused side eye.
'Don't worry your little head about it. They know of our mutual friend, and the rules that he binds us with.'
'I don't play by his rules, and I have no patience for whatever game those rules are made for. Talk, or I'll make you.', I threaten, feeling angrier than usual. Whoever this is, they helped that… That monster, one way or the other.
Renaud doesn't respond, at first. They take out a cigarette, lick it, like a cowboy movie my parents would watch. Taking a puff, they resume. 'You'll have to get used to it. It's all planned out. It has been. For 42 years now.'
I try not to look too surprised.
'Surprised?'
I fail.
'Strange plan, isn't it? Wolf men, cyborg ladies, maniacs willing to endanger kids? Seems like something any reasonable person wouldn't cooperate with.', I raise an eyebrow at them.
Renaud averts their gaze for the first time, and I sense shame in their words. '...I still don't understand why. I don't know how much of it is him and how much of it is those he delegates to.'
'Not much use to me then.', I mutter, frustrated. Dang it, another dead end.
'Wait.', They stop me, oddly alert. They sit back down, and take out a picture. Torn, wrinkled, but in it I see four kids.
'...The one in the middle, with the tired smile. That's him.'
I nod. I see a kid who doesn't sleep much, and seems nervy.
'Raven… I won't say it. He has the right to say it. But he's complicated. He's… He's like us, really.'
'Us?', I ask, feeling disgust, but also… Fear.
'He's… Look, what I'm trying to say is… He was, is… I don't know… But a friend. He's become different lately. Desperate. Hiring that E guy was one thing. E used to be able to stay on a leash, he wasn't really a killer.'
Renaud looks from side to side, alert. I do too.
'...But this new guy. He's what's got me in here, thinking it all over.'
I nod, heavily invested, trying not to look giddy. This could be huge. Another link, and one that is bigger than the others, perhaps, one that can reveal what is going on here.
'Who is this guy who's got you all worked up?', I ask, close, eye to eye.
They look right back. 'Right now, goes by the name of Apollo Arno. I couldn't catch the whole thing… Raven is very selective of what gets out, as I'm sure you have learned.'
They lean even closer. 'But I can tell you that this guy… He's far worse than E.'
I try not to gasp.
I succeed, but barely.
'He's ruthless. Do anything. From what I've heard, at least. There's some sort of plan, going down today.', Renaud whispers.
'What are they planning?', I ask, ready to go at any moment.
'That's the thing, I don't know all of it. All I know is that it's today, and it involves some high society types, real creme de la creme.'
I nod. It's not as much as I hoped for, but it's something.
'My advice? Go down to the station, the jail house, whatever. He's got something cooking in there, and if you can catch a word out of order, a name out of line, you'll have your location, and you can stop him before it gets worse.', They tell me, as if it's the end of the world.
I can't help but ask. 'It doesn't make sense. You too were all chummy, and then this is what sends you over? Not before?'
'Again, it's complicated.', They say, but they struggle to look at me.
'It isn't. It was wrong. You know it. You should be able to admit to that.', I almost hiss, and turn away, disgusted.
'...I was trying to save the city.'
I pause, but don't look back.
' I still think he can. I still think I can. I thought it was easy, but I know now what is at stake. What lives I can save or destroy. I was blind, I am trying not to be. I am thinking it over, stopping for the same reasons you did.'
I feel my breath hitch, and turn.
'What reason?', I ask, struggling to stay angry and tough. A quiver hits my throat, and I try not to choke up.
They gaze at me with… Sympathy?
'I learned what damage I was capable of. I learned of the guilt I carry. I see it on you, on your every step, whether it be light like yesterday or heavy like today.'
I take a moment to speak. 'I do what I do because it's right.'
'Yes. Because you learned what was right after you were wronger than you ever were.'
They keep staring at me, and this mysterious person who appears so strong and calm and smart, appears hurt like me, carrying the self made scars I carry.
'What was it, I don't know. I wouldn't ask. I know how heavy the burden is. But if I could give you one piece of advice, from one recovering failure to another?'
They stare right into my soul.
'Lose it or use it. Face it, or fear it. You have no third option. You're taking on a man with goals far more similar than you think. You're trying to make it up to everyone, to be what you didn't have, or perhaps, what you weren't.'
They stood up, and tipped their hat.
'And for what it's worth, I hope that whoever is right wins. Because people like us, we want to save others because we can't save ourselves. We can't let them hurt like we do. May you find a way, Guardian. Whatever happens, I will see to it that this city lives better than I did.'
And so he left, leaving me to wonder what I seem to never stop wondering about.
If I can be good.
If I can be good enough.
If I can save them.
(Nothing Else Matters - Metallica)
Regular POV:
The music floated into the wind alongside the smoke from 'Apollo Arno's' magic wand.
He looked at the business cards on the palm of his hand. Normally, he doesn't change aliases until the end of a visit.
'But normally it is not anymore, is it?', 'Channing Abbot' asked no one in particular, blowing smoke rings from the aquarium he's chained too.
'Or, perhaps, really, it is too normally. Too normally for me.'
He looked at the smoke, trying to find a shape, but it remained amorphous and abstract. He squinted, but still nothing.
'Illuminate, Illusion. How many times have we performed this song and dance, how many times have I went onto the stage and performed from my dusty book of tricks?', 'Abbot' beseeched the woman, who stood resolutely in the dressing room/magic store, keeping an eye on the door where the 'special assistants' were being prepared.
She flashed the 7 and 8 of diamonds.
'78 times in 13 years. I can't say we haven't been extremely successful.', he mused, the chains shaking from his mere breathing. The water flowed peacefully, dully, below him. 'But after so long, I've become too good. They are clueless, fruitless in their endeavours to figure out who has committed all these crimes, so much so that I had to purposefully leave them evidence, and the only ones who appreciate my hard work are you and Glamour.'
'Abbot' shaked his head. 'Clearly, a change is vital.'
Illusion paid no note to all the vinegar in his language peppered with spice. She knew who she was dealing with, and he knew who he was dealing with. Purely professional. Truthfully, she too had grown tired of the quiet success.
'Well, isn't THIS a change? We've never done somethin' like this!', Glamour shouted out from the room Illusion is looking into. A slapping sound rung out like shattering glass. 'I told you to shut it!'
'Abbot' nodded, though Glamour couldn't see him. 'It is why I hope this will prove a turning point. But still, it's all rather droll so far, isn't it? Easy, really.'
Glamour agreed, as she walked out of the room with a group of children, arms tied to each other with colourful handkerchiefs. They all looked jumpy, worried. Some have wet cheeks. Others try to remain calm, see the end of the trick and sigh in relief that the 'danger' was never real.
'Abbot' took a breath, and escaped the chains in five seconds flat. Landing without even a smidgen of water or dust on his self, he calmly walked over to the children.
'Behaving?', he asked, glazed look, barely opening them to acknowledge.
'Sort of! This one kid won't stop crying!', Glamour cried, dramatically fanning herself next to the dove cage.
'Abbot' took inventory of the visibly shaken children. 10 children, all important to the operation. Two were still not located however. 'Remember, we're leaving in an hour and a half to get the final two.'
The crying kid was in the middle, and 'Abbot' found himself staring at her. The kid was young, couldn't be older than eight, and she was breathing hard, waterworks gushing down, her glasses slightly mangled. 'I… I wanna see my parents. I don't like it here.'
'Abbot' stared down at her, expression unmoving. Slowly, automatically, like an assembly line, he revealed a small ball, his fingers all over it. Inch by inch, he removed a finger until the ball floated in the air, though truthfully, his thumb was carefully hidden inside the secret hole inside the ball.
The girl kept on sniffling at the trick. 'I… I don't like that… Take me home…'
'Abbot' let out a nose sigh. 'Me too.'
It was the first trick he ever learned, the trick that got him into magic. The trick that got him into this place, right here.
And he felt so…
'Empty. Like there's a hole in my middle too.', he mused, and noticed the tear drops on the carpet from the girl.
He wiped them with his shoe without looking.
'Are… Are you gonna hurt us? Are you gonna…', one young, nine year old boy asked, choking on his words, and the other kids all nodded, knowing what the boy meant by what he didn't say.
'Abbot' shook his head, reassuring them momentarily. 'Oh, heavens no, no.'
He turned around, not seeing their terrified faces, he didn't find it that amusing. 'Hurting and killing children is so conventional, try hard. A shallow, pathetic cry for attention. Besides, I've killed so many adults, and it's become quite tedius. So no, I won't kill you, it's frightfully dull.'
Turning to Illusion, he noted 'Orders from the top say to expect the other audience to arrive here around 15:00. Prepare the mirror trick. The show must go on, I suppose.'
He then left the room, still looking for shapes in the smoke rings, but they were all the same.
(Something in the way - Nirvana, film version The Batman)
Captain Griffin's POV:
Cameras are working fine.
Check.
Exits barred well.
Check.
All guards are present and accounted for, all prisoners give me the once over, whispering how they'll wave by on the outside real soon.
Sigh.
Check.
Royal Woods has crazy prison turnovers, record bails, and even a few 'impossible' escapes.
But there's nothing to fix, right? Nothing at all. It's fine. As long as we do long maintenance checks, and keep our blind eyes at a bargain price.
I stand in the middle of the prison house, and it looks exactly as you'd expect: Polished, long, sprawling halls of cement and stone, greyish white, seemingly stretching to the end of time.
I'd take the trip, but I don't feel like I can reach down to grab the spare change in between the couch cushions.
'All up to scratch, Captain?', the warden asks me, smiling brightly, as if this is the first time he's asked me this question, as if we haven't performed this damned song and dance more than I dare count. What does he expect me to say?
That the cameras are as outdated as, apparently, my ideals are?
That the exits are convenitaly slow, laborious, and the stainless steel doors are easily toppled down by proxy of the hinges having rusted like the bottom of a sunken ship?
That the guards pocket the highest salaries in the midwest, thanks to a 'generous' bonus system?
That I've arrested these prisoners all before, and seen them wave past me all before?
I look at him. At his disgusting, apathetic smug grin. I count every tooth as a person who has lost a loved one to the monsters in here.
I try to pretend that I am proud of holding myself back.
'Right as rain.', I finally muster.
I look at the checklist I have on my notebook, the pages yellowing and curling up. I don't think I've changed it since the move, to be honest. I keep meaning to, but it keeps escaping my mind.
'Still gotta check the ventilation system.', I drone.
'Sure, sure.', the warden wipes his brow. It's raining bucket loads outside. 'Oh, by the way, someone scheduled a weekly visit for inmate 7212021.'
I look up, surprised. Been here enough times to know that 'He never has visitors…'
The warden smiles at me again, and I swear I can hear one of my veins throbbing. 'Oh, trust me, Captain, this visitor isn't hiding anything.'
I raise an eyebrow at that, and turn away from him, facing one of the cells instead. Hidden inside the decaying, brown cell bars, water slowly, maddingly, dripping onto a corner, a harmonica's sad muse rolls out into the 'free space', and nestles in my ear.
I step a little closer. I'd recognize those Ugg boots anywhere, though I'm still not used to the armor they're paired up with, or the blue gizmo that acts as a harmonica currently.
'Olivia Smith.', I acknowledge her, and the spectacled criminal turned supervillain looks at me with a melancholic, guilty, yet also bored look.
'...It's 'Heist'.', she barely bothers to reply, the harmonica now perching on her in its bird form, which it seems to take most often. Very strange.
'Must be exciting. You finally got to be in the big house.', I answer, making conversation. I'm not too sure why.
She rolls her eyes. 'No thanks to you, and not for long.'
'And here I thought you were regretful.'
'Oh, I am.', she says, looking down in sadness. The bird nuzzles her, and she nuzzles back in affection. 'But I, that is, WE, aren't giving up on our mad skillz, brah.'
'Please don't ever say that again.', I plead.
She looks at me with a clear disinterest. 'Please stop talking to us? I don't really care what you or any of these phonies have to say. I'll be out of here eventually, and when I am, I'll get some real scores done, and maybe even fight The Guardian again!', she and the bird get excited over this, vibrating and floofing. 'Oh, it's gonna be EPICCCC! This time, no fuck ups, we're gonna do it right, and if we lose, go down swinging! I admit I went too far last time, but 'Heist' learns from every mistake now!'
I almost would admire the change in the girl, if it weren't being used for this… This garbage philosophy. At least she isn't interested in fighting the world anymore. But still, I feel frustration.
'This vigilante is already doing it.'
'Doing what?', The warden inquires.
I look at him with disdain, but it's not directed at him. 'She's got an arch enemy now.'
'Omg, am I… I guess I am, being her first real proper villain!', Olivia claps her hands in sheer delight, the bird turning into a trumpet.
'See? First. First of how many? Bad enough no one stays…', I almost say it, but stop myself. I feel a heavy weight on my chest. What's the point? What is saying this gonna change? Even with Olivia's lack of bargaining power with greedy men like this, she'll probably manage to get out, just so she can fight this so-called hero. Now she's not only partaking in a foolish crusade, but also in a neverending sidetrack with a bunch of maniacs. She… No, the city deserves better.
If I could just get her… End this madness, do something worthwhile for once… If she was in front of me right now, maybe I could save some lives from her chaos, I could finally DO something for the people unfairly put under my protection… If she was in front of me right now, I'd…
'Captain Griffin?'
I snap out of it, and look down, and I know instantly who it is, a wave of sympathy washing over the fire of my discontent.
It's Lori Loud.
(Funeral and Far Between - Michael Giacchino)
Lori's POV:
Standing in here without my costume makes me feel vulnerable.
And not because of who's in here.
But because now I have no masks, no cover, not even a hood or some eye shadow.
It's my eyes full of horrible, awful truth that stare into the Captain's eyes.
It also doesn't help that I know she hates me, the me I so wish to be. The me that would still be able to claim a right to breath, to walk, to live. To dare help others.
If she hates that me…
Then how much would she hate the Lori in front of her?
But I frown angrily at myself for that selfish thought.
Captain Griffin would have every right to hate that Lori.
It's a mood, after all.
'Lori…', Captain Griffin starts, offering a sympathetic hand shake, and it literally feels like acid rain on my skin. 'You're here before your parents, even. That… That is very brave.'
I sigh, remembering my excuse to get into this place. Once a week we are allowed to see him… He has no family, anyway. It's almost ironically hilarious, if it didn't make me feel like I could barf all over the place.
Is my barf different too now, with my powers? I haven't noticed anything different with, like, my boogers.
God, if only THAT was my biggest problem.
'It's… It's nothing, Captain.', I say, genuine.
'Would you like me to… To accompany you, or would you rather have only the guards?', she offers, and her eyes seem to beg in a familiar way. Like, she wants to support me, but…
'I'll be fine.', I say, not trying to hurt her feelings. Omg, I hope not, I just need to be alone so I can change back into my costume.
Jesus, Lori, can you stop hurting people for literally one minute?
'Good… Good you can.', she offers a fake smile, and a fist bump, the way parents do when they think connecting with teenagers is embarrassing them to death. But I don't leave her hanging. It's probably even more embarrassing for her, after all, and the awkwardness would kill me faster than that wolf guy on International Eat Lori day.
Does he want to eat me? Fuck, I hope not, I may be depressed but not THAT much.
Besides, if I die before I can somehow make it up to everyone, than I will have truly failed. No. I can only die once it's over, for good or for bad.
Just as long as everyone is safe.
Please.
Please that they will be.
Please.
'Do you need a tissue?', she asks, and I realise we've been walking towards the cell, and I am also crying. Good think I removed the eye shadow…
'Oh, left some makeup on I see.', she points at my dripping eye shadow.
'Sigh', I say, and take the tissue to wipe it all off. I am never gonna get good at this secret identity thing, huh?
We stop at one of those meeting rooms, a glass pane before us revealing a smaller room with another glass pane between a chair, and…
Him.
I let out a small gasp, turns out I was holding my breath. I feel goosebumps all over, and suddenly all I see are flashes.
A gun shot.
Lincoln in a hospital bed.
His scared face.
My hands…
With the blood of my brother gushing down.
I know it was just an excuse to get here, but…
'I need a minute.', I choke out, and walk out to find a water cooler, and maybe also a waste basket, now, please…
'Lori?', a voice, Griffin's, echoes down the hall, but it's buried by the horrible ringing in my ears, and Lincoln's face replicated to a million different faces of a million different people, all reaching out for my hand to stop them from falling…
BLEGHHHHHHHHH!
Swish and a miss on the wastebasket.
(For All Your Pennyworth - Michael Giacchino)
I'm sitting now in a sort of small office room, washing my face in front of a dirty mirror. I pick at the dirt, grossed out but also intrigued, as I stare at my face. It just won't come out.
I stare back at myself.
'You… Feeling better?', the question snaps me back to reality (oh, there comes gravity… Heh, sorry, Lisa keeps playing rap records out loud while she's doing god knows what in her room), and I turn around to Captain Griffin, who has a warm cup of tea at hand, with a smiley face that says 'Rain, rain, go away'. I don't usually drink tea, but I accept the gesture, and at least, it calms my inner storm a little.
'I guess…', I mumble, focusing on the grey blue walls. There are some framed newspaper headlines and photos of famous arrests, and some decrees, diplomas, etc. I shrug at the captain. 'Isn't this, like, literally the prison with the highest inmate escape rates?'
'That… Is true, but how do you know that? From what I heard, you're more of a shopping girl than a, well, prison facts girl.', Griffin asks, and I tell the truth (sort of). 'Oh, well, I… I heard how bad things have been getting, and I got curious. I'm gonna live in this town all my life after all.', I say, rubbing the back of my neck, hoping she is satisfied with that.
She is. Phew. 'Hmm, well, then I agree. It's comical that these frames are up there.'
I nod, and we sit in silence for a moment.
'Well… At least some of them are now afraid of more than the police, maybe that will help.', I say, almost more to myself than to her.
That angers her, and I should have seen it coming, tbh. She gets up, and growls almost, knuckles shaking. 'Oh, if I hear another ignorant compliment to that criminal…'
She notices my uncomfortable expression, and calms down, sitting down on the dingy, mushy couch again. 'I'm sorry. I… I shouldn't react like that when you just had that moment.'
'It's okay.', I say, and I mean it. I look down at the tea, the steam reminding me of the mist and smog from earlier, when I fought those kidnappers. 'You just wanna do your job, that's important.'
She scoffs, and I look at her inquisitively. 'You think I get to do it? I haven't done anything in a long time. If ever.'
'Well, that's not true!', I say, trying to cheer her up. Only I deserve to feel like crap today. 'You helped stop Heist!'
'That wasn't me. I was trying to get someone else.', she grunts. Getting up, she tightens her coat. 'I tried to do something good once, and it only made things worse. And ever since, I haven't been able to do anything else. I can't even stop some rowdy teenager in a Halloween costume. I can't do anything!'
She pinches the bridge of her nose. 'God damn it. Look at me. I'm ranting about what a failure I am to a kid. No offence.'
'None taken.', I reassure her, feeling sorry. '...But… You tried. Doesn't that mean something?', I add, and again, it's not just to her.
'...You can't beat a river to submission, Lori. Some things… Most things… They beat you to submission. Sometimes I think it's better if we didn't lie to ourselves, and just accepted what we can and can't do. I think it would save us a whole lot of grief.'
Her eyes close, and her head sinks low, and I try not to cry. Because like Renaud back at the Fox's Den, I see someone I can relate to, someone who unlike me, doesn't deserve to feel this way. I don't know how she failed, but I don't care. She surely never did what I did. She goes out there every day despite the pain.
I hope I can emulate that.
'It's okay, Lori. You go home, don't feel bad. I missed my chance, but I bet whatever you'll do, it will be meaningful. The city is in good hands with people like you.', she smiles at me, and now I really do feel bad.
But I feel the strength needed to get over my moment, and do what I must do.
I turn around, and offer her my most serious look.
'For what it's worth, Captain… If there were more people like you, we'd be in great hands.'
She says nothing, and I walk off.
I hope I helped her.
(Are You a Kenzie or a Can't-zie? - Michael Giacchino)
Once I think I'm far enough from Captain Griffin, I take a detour to one of the halls, and look up to see the only camera. I grimace, and then gasp as I hear two guards coming. I hide in the shadows, breathing heavily.
'Shut the camera off, right?', one asks.
'Yeah, Ms. Azava really made our lunch hour.', the other answers, waving some bag of white powder.
The two walk off, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I can change without risk to my identity.
Putting on my hoodie, my eye shadow, my different pants, and my boots, I try to think up a way to sneak around and get some info. But how am I…
Oh. Vents.
I look from side to side. No one.
It's not ideal… But it should get the job done.
The vents don't open easily, which is worrying, but I eventually get it open, and hoist myself inside.
'Ugh…', I grunt. Kinda tight, 'cause of how tall I am for my age.
'Good thing Luan isn't here to make some fat joke. I mean, it wouldn't even make sense. I'm getting ripped if anything!', I talk to myself as I crawl down the vent, trying not to make any creaking or echoing sounds. I look at one of my biceps. Heh. It's kinda neat, not gonna lie. Which reminds me, I have another gym session today. Wait 'till Bobby gets a load of my toned chest one of these days!
The vents are stuffy, and dark, but I can just about see an opening, and two different guards! 'Let's see what you assholes are up to…', I whisper, propping my ear up to the small bars, my earrings jingling for a moment.
'East flank is secure.', one says, toying with his pistol.
'West flank too.', says another, staring at a monitor. She leans back a bit, bored. 'I wonder when we'll finally get the call. How long does it take to kidnap some…'
'Quiet!', says the first, worried, paranoid, looking up to where I am almost. I move back a bit, absorbed as if I were listening to the hottest gossip. I guess I kind of am, only lives are at stake.
'Oh boy…', I sigh, holding my head, feeling that rage, that disgust again. How do people let themselves do this? How can they be so selfish?
I mean, at least I know I didn't want Lincoln hurt on purpose. That doesn't take away from my inaction, but how can anyone know that people will be hurt, and not care?
I don't get that. I really don't.
If only I wasn't so broken too, I wouldn't feel fake for thinking that.
'If anyone like Captain Griffin hears about this, we'll be toast!', the first one says.
'Yum.', the second one replies.
'No, not yum! Well, yeah, toast fucks, but like… Still!'
'What's Captain Griffin gonna do, stare dramatically at us, musing over her tragic past? Scaryyyy.', the second one laughs at her joke.
'It's not her I'm worried about, it's… You know… Raven.'
She stops laughing, and nods immediately. 'Right, right. I can't believe I forgot.'
They resume working, and leave the office.
'Omg. Everyone talks about Raven like he's a monster. Which he is, what with all the horrible things he's done. But what is he planning? What could have all these other monsters so scared?', I wonder aloud. It sends a shiver down my spine, but I move onwards, determined to stop any more of this… This evil.
Another opening arrives soon enough, though the heat in here is horrible. Doesn't my costume stink enough after a regular day? Regardless, I go to it, and listen in to what seems to be two prisoners sharing a cell block.
'So you fought her?', a heavy voice asks, the bed springs begging for mercy from what I can tell.
'Yeah, I did.' says a guy I recognize as one of the jerks I fought around the time that wolf attacked my school. He aimed the gun at that little boy in the alley. Another one of those. I clench my fist and my teeth, and try to ignore the fire in my cheeks.
'She thought I worked for E, the nutcase I told you about? I had to go so far as to threaten some schmuck kid to get her to finish me off.', he lies down, satisfied on his bed. I hope he chokes on his grimey toothbrush.
'Wait, you let her win? Get outta here!'
'Hey, I'm not claiming I could beat her, I'm not crazy! But that was the mission.', the guy closes his eyes and lectures.
I raise an eyebrow at that. What does that mean? What mission?
As if to help me out, the other prisoner asks 'What mission?'
'Well, that's why I'm still here. People who know even a little about, well… Raven and his plans, once they stop being useful, it's safer behind bars, is all. Can't risk me spilling anything, understand?', he says, like it's a normal thing to say.
'And… You're okay with that?', the other prisoner asks, sounding a little distrubed. I don't blame him.
'Brother, it's death or this. Besides, maybe once he gets what he wants, I can get released on good behaviour.', he smiles, and I almost growl.
'Unless The Guardian stops him.', the other guy reminds him.
'I know this guy, Phill. She's only still around 'cause he decided it benefits his plan. Once he can really take her out, not just assess her? Finito.'
I bite my lip. Not any useful info, but definitely something to put me on higher alert. I HAVE to find out more, and fast!
I keep on crawling, and find yet another opening. Two prison doctors are there.
'So… This weather.', says one, with a beehive ginger haircut.
'It's always 'This weather' this, 'This weather' that, but when is it about me, doctor, when?', says the other, a latina with long hair.
'I'm sorry, doctor. This is all hard to diagnose…', she says, only to be pinned to the wall by the latina doctor.
'Diagnose this.'
They start making out. Hard.
I blush mega hard, and leave, though I can't help but look back a moment. Wonder what that would be like, kissing a girl. Probably weird.
Definitely weird.
Yeah.
Anyhow, I keep moving on, looking for something truly substantial. But all I hear is 'wait for the call', 'we'll get a signal', 'do exactly as he says', blah blah blah. I NEED more.
(Escaped Crusader - Michael Giacchino)
Suddenly, I find myself next to that office again, where I was with Captain Griffin. She's not there, but the warden is. He's all old and wrinkly, like one of my pop pop's friends. He has coke bottle glasses, and a bottle of very expensive wine, from what I can tell. He's sitting at his office, and talking on the phone, looking very calm and relaxed, legs up on his desk.
'Oh, yes, yes, we're all ready at a moment's notice, commissioner. Yes, we know the orders.'
My eyes widen and I try to close my gaping mouth. Are the entire police in on this?
'If this doesn't get the media and the elite on his side, nothing will! I mean, we're already signed on, but I'm sure this will get some troublesome weeds to fit in with the rest of the lawn. Yes, like Captain Griffin.', he continues, and I note to myself to remember that.
'Yes. Yes, I know. I figured out where he's hiding them. Left at Ferris Grove, straight onto…'
Suddenly I can't hear him. All I hear is a gushing of wind, thanks to the damn AC being turned on. It's fucking raining? But regardless, I can hear bits and pieces.
'U turn at…'
'...McKinley boulevard…'
'Two rights and a roundabout at…'
'...and then you're there. Tell Arno or whatever name he had again that that's the location.'
Dang it, that wasn't clear at all! How will I figure that out?
I hang my head, feeling lost. My one lead, and I barely know anything.
…Well, what DO I know?
My head perks up. 'Ferris Grove is where Lynn's friend Paula lives. I've driven her there before in Vanzilla.' I take out a glitter pen in my backpack and start drawing on the vent walls. I write 'Ferris Grove', then make a left turn.
'Straight from there is Evergreen Street, where Lucy says she gets the best inspiration for her 'raven' poems, cause the graveyard is better suited for, well, her 'death' poems.'
I tap the pen on my chin, wracking my brain.
'I know that the U turn there is next to Luan's comedy club gigs, so then to get to McKinely boulevard… Well, that's easy, that's three traffic lights north east, to get to Luna's 'Moon Goats' gigs.'
I add on more and more directions, feeling the answer arriving to me.
'Two rights and a roundabout… Ah, yes, that's where Lana goes once a week to work on her secret project, a race car just like Bobby Fisher. So that's…'
I write with a flourish, and fist pump. 'The rundown cul de sac at Lindberg Lane!'
But who could be kidnapped there? What are they planning?
I still don't know, and it sounds really terrifying. It sounds… Well, like a big mission. One that if I fail, could ruin a whole bunch of lives.
But one thing I know for sure: I have to act FAST, even though I'm scared.
I rush down the vent, trying to remain quiet, and I arrive at where I started. Removing the opening, I step down, and float for a moment, though not as much as usual. Figures. Lincoln said something about confidence affecting my powers. I've been depressed all day, it would strike eventually.
SMASH!
Ceramic pieces hurtle through the air.
One passes me by, striking my cheek, making me bleed a little.
Looking up, I see Captain Griffin, shocked, almost manic.
Looking down, I see one of the ceramic pieces landing at my feet, with a smiley face cracked in the middle, and a single word.
'Go'.
'FREEZE!', Griffin screams, gun pointed at me, and I dash off in the other direction, boots echoing in the halls.
CLOP! CLOP! CLOP!
I run and run, looking backwards occasionally to see Captain Griffin hot on my heels, gun trained on me, snarling like a wolf almost.
'STOP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!', she screamed, the shout echoing through the building, the lightbulbs seemingly shaking because of it. Hall after hall of nothingness, like I'm trapped in some abandoned building, chased by the wolves.
I can't use my strength on her, whatever I have left. I won't hurt her, nuh uh. And I can't just break through all these steel doors.
CLOP! CLOP! CLOP!
I keep on running, scampering, my breathing ragged, my lungs burning. Whatever keeps my health so strong is going too, and even with my recent exercise I'm not used to all this. My knees feel like they could buckle, but every misstep, every moment of agony, it sends me closer to the rampaging Captain Griffin, who snarls like a bull. 'I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY WITH IT THIS TIME! NO WAY, NO HOW!'
I close my eyes, feeling so lost, pathetic. I HAVE to get to Lindberg Lane! I can't fail, not again!
'CAPTAIN! LISTEN TO ME! SOMEONE, I DON'T KNOW WHO, SOMEONE IS IN DANGER!', I cry, realising too late how fake that sounds. 'NICE TRY!', she yells accordingly. I try to shout out the address, but I almost trip on two men arriving with a laundry cart.
'SORRY!', I cry.
'IT'S THE VIGILANTE! COME ON, WE CAN'T LET HER ESCAPE!', Captain Griffin cries, and the people behind her seem unsure, hesitant. That makes sense. This is probably not the plan.
'Er, um, someone help her!', the Warden cries out, next to me. He could trip me if he wanted to. Why am I important to the plan?
No time to think about it, though. Alarms blare out, and red lights go on and off as I race through the cafeteria. Looking back at Captain Griffin, I decide not to hurt her, but to delay her, and drop some chairs in her way, and a table, though it's a struggle and a half. Damn it.
Thankfully, there's a door! I just have to…
BLAM!
A bullet hits the switch, making it shut down like a guillotine. I look back, startled, a little scared.
'I SAID FREEZE!', she shouts out again, and it's horrible, like an animal roar. She's so desperate that she trips over the chairs, cutting her cheek too on the floor. She ignores the blood and carries on.
I keep running too, and find two pathways. Hedging my bets, I run left, and hide in a dark corner, using my costume to camouflage myself. She passes me by, slowly, eyes analysing side to side. My heart beats lightning fast, and I ignore the clenching of my throat.
Suddenly, she stops. And she points the gun at…
HERSELF?!
'NO!', I cry, slapping the gun from her hand, which smarts. I blow on my momentarily sore hand, only to see Griffin turn around with a taser.
'YOU ARE UNDER ARREST…', she declares, tasing my strong hand, which I scream from. No… Must hold on.
'FOR SUSPICION OF MULTIPLE ACTS OF VIGILANTISM…', she tases my strong leg. I go down on one knee, tears forming.
'BREAKING AND ENTERING, PROPERTY DAMAGE…', she tases my other leg. All that's left is my weaker arm.
But I'm all that's left for whoever is in trouble.
Gathering every ounce of strength I have left, I imagine that person in trouble…
And I grab the taser.
CRUNCH!
It breaks, the electricity charging me up almost to get up and charge off in the other direction.
Griffin runs too, screaming 'AND ASSAULTING AN OFFICER!'
Suddenly, I find the main prison room, where I entered the place! Wide open space, stairs, two floors… This is where I can take the advantage!
Gearing my still slightly sore but not as much as before legs, I leap up to fly…
And nearly fall down to the second floor, just barely grabbing onto the railing.
Getting up, I see all the cells around us, calling for my name.
'GUARDIAN!', one clamours.
'GUARDIAN, COME FOR ANOTHER ROUND?', another chortles.
'GUARDIAN, I'M HERE, YES, COME, LET'S SEE WHO'S REALLY THE BEST!', Heist sing songs.
'GUARDIAN! GUARDIAN! GUARDIAN!', they all bang at their cells, angry, terrified, fixated almost. I gulp. If that's what it's like after just a month or so…
'SEE? LOOK AT THIS! THIS IS THE MADNESS YOU'VE STARTED! IT'S ONLY GONNA GET WORSE!', Griffin suddenly shouts behind me. I look towards the entrance, and some guards sort of point their guns at me. I look side to side, and see the stairs right next to us, leading to the roof. I make my choice, risky as it is.
I run up the stairs.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The stairs noisily echo, as I run, and Griffin follows close behind.
Stairs, more stairs, I feel dizzy almost, my heart pounding, my back aching. Just a little more… Have to do this… Have to…
Can't fail another Lincoln.
Please.
The door appears, like water in the desert. I break it open, nearly cracking my knuckles. 'Fuck!', I cry, and I force myself out to the roof, where all there is is a rickety ladder, and the rainy, stormy sky.
I reach the edge when a bullet nearly grazes me again. So lucky. I don't think I can deflect them this time.
Turning around, I see her. Raging, the rain turning into steam on her skin.
'This is it, vigilante. End of the line. This is where your mad, hopeless crusade ends.'
I stare her in the eyes. I stay resolved.
'Someone's life is in danger. You can arrest me afterwards, if you really want to.'
She growls. 'Bullshit. And even if that's true, what difference do you think I will make? Or you? Call 9-1-1 and give up!'
I look at her. I look at the sky. I almost want to agree, to be punished.
'...'
But I still jump.
Leaping into the air, I put my guilt aside for a moment, focus on what is gonna happen, and just like that…
I fly again.
But this time, I feel a weight on me. It's Captain Griffin!
'Get off!', I cry, not the best choice of words.
'NO! I HAVE TO STOP YOU! I HAVE TO!', she cries, grabbing onto me like a rabid animal.
'I HAVE TO SAVE SOMEONE! EVEN YOU!'
I try to drop her back on the roof, but her struggling makes her heavier, and…
She's falling.
SHE'S FALLING.
I snap in an instant, flying faster than I've ever flown before. COME ON COME ON COME ON
SHE'S ALMOST HIT THE GROUND, STOP, STOP…
ALMOST…
THERE!
I grab her hand, just about saving her. She's fine, I can drop her on the ground.
Except she looks up at me, with tears in her eyes, realising I saved her life.
And she chokes out…
'Why.'
And I don't know what to say.
Except…
'Why not?'
And I fly off, to do what I must do.
But I can hear her behind me.
Crying like the rain around us.
(Holding Out For a Hero - Nothing But Thieves)
Regular POV:
'How could ya?! How could ya run off?!'
Standing in the middle of his 'modest' apartment, one that was very nice but still not a mansion, but still very nice for what supposedly was his class group, Roscoe angrily starred at his sister, who was getting stormier by the second. He hated it when Savannah yelled at him, but he especially hated it now, when it wasn't his fault.
She was so unaware, she was still on her damn phone, not even giving him the courtesy of attention while scolding him.
'Well, I was tryin' to git to school on time, and you was totally off in yer own world, sis! I don't have to be punished for bein' tardy on account of what a… A bitch you are!'
Savannah turned around and looked like a bull that was seeing red. Roscoe gulped. 'STOP… STOP BLAMIN' ME, AND DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT, MISTER!'
'I'LL CALL YOU ANYTHIN' I WANT!', He tried to keep up his bravery. 'I ALMOST GOT KIDNAPPED! THAT'S ON YOU!'
'DON'T SAY THAT!', she screamed, clearly feeling guilty. She got so angry, so so angry, that the place shook, and Roscoe got a little scared. Savannah felt even worse now. He couldn't be shaken up like this after what happened.
But she sucked at apologising.
'...You're not gonna git kidnapped again.', a half promise, half order. Better than nothing, Roscoe figured.
He went upstairs to the second floor, Savannah staying where she was to keep herself calm.
Staring out at the rain, holding onto his bunny plush, he swore he could see The Guardian from one of the windows, but it was far too murky to see if it was her.
He thought of how she saved him, even if she came across a lot more… Intense than she did on TV.
'Better than my family.', he thought bitterly. Dad always off filming or doing dumb publicity stuff, his sister being an aforementioned bitch.
'Coulda died today. Coulda been held against my will for who knows how long. But they don't give a hoot about lil' ol' me.'
The rain hit the lights, plunging everything into a slight darkness thanks to the rainstorm.
Roscoe sighed, staring at the other window. 'I might as well have been kidnapped. S'pose no one's gonna miss me.'
'Oh, I wouldn't say that.', a voice suddenly replied, so matter of factly and dryly that Roscoe almost thought he was conversing with himself.
But as lightning crashed, and the dark lifeless eyes of 'Channing Abbot' appeared like a flash in the window, his face completely and utterly emotionless as he smashed the window just in time for more lightning, Roscoe realised that this was definitely not himself.
If it was anyone at all.
Roscoe tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat, which was choking on the smoggy air. This man, this… Whatever he was, he was climbing into the house like a zombie possessed, like a terminator almost. This almost unnatural movement, this detached feeling.
From the same window came Illusion, as cold and calculated as 'Abbot', the same icy stare, two monsters now following Roscoe. It wasn't even really urgent, just… Slow. Purposeful. Each step fainting them ever closer, with such a lack of fear, rage, or even terrifying excitement at the prospect of kidnapping a child. They just… Did it.
Roscoe began to run away, the darkness mixed with blue lightning making the mint green room look haunting, psychedelic. No words were spoken, just harrowing silence. Step, step, step. That's all they did. So Roscoe ran, ran as fast as he could, looking for his sister.
'SAVANNAH! SAVANNA!', he cried out, finally, tears mixing in with his dread, as he raced down the stairs, but it mattered not. 'Abbot' and Illusion simply continued the purist.
'WHAT?', Savannah shouted back, annoyed. She looked up from her phone…
And screamed even louder.
The storm was not kind, though, and it kept on drawing out their pain and anguish, as the two criminals kept on stepping towards them, now both holding out guns.
Roscoe and Savannah bolted for the door, but it was locked. So was the back door, and the windows were a no go with the people in front of them blocking their path.
'DO SOMETHING!'', Roscoe pleaded, but Savannah had nothing, she just stood there in abject terror as Illusion banged her head wit the gun, knocking her out. Seeing his sister get tied up, treated like that, Roscoe leapt into action, first trying to stop Illusion, then attacking 'Abbot', with no mind for his own safety, using his plush to hit the man on the head. Savannah, coming to (thanks to the insane training regimens the kids father gave to them), saw this and felt even worse. Could she do that? Could she do anything that good? What kind of sister lets her brother get kidnapped, or almost kidnapped twice?
Of course, Roscoe was no match for the effortless hands of 'Abbot', who simply watched as Illusion tied him up.
'I'm having a little magic show this afternoon.', he informed the boy matter of factly, like two people making small talk in an elevator. Roscoe was crying from shock and horror, hugging the plush. 'Abbot' was rubbing his gun on the boy's cheeks, just to see his reaction to being so close to death.
'I need a captive audience for the show, and you fit the part perfectly. Do not fret, it's not for long, and besides, it's for the good of the city, apparently. Understand?', he asked, speaking like it was all a rehearsed scene, so bored, so grey was his delivery.
Roscoe wanted to talk, but his face got taped up, and his head konked with a gun.
Illusion nodded, and the two began to carry out the kids.
'Abbot' however looked at what he had done. Beautiful, efficient, on the dot. No one had even heard them, and even if they did, it was gonna be someone in on the plan.
It was a success in every way.
'Then why am I not smiling?', he thought, melancholic, hoping against hope for some happiness again, as he lugged the kids into the truck of his car.
(Something in the Way - Nirvana, The Batman version)
Captain Griffin's POV:
Step. Step. Step.
How long have I been walking for, in a daze?
How long have I been walking, waking, at all?
Everything is the same, every single day. Everything is bad, every single day.
I'm trapped, like a rat, trapped in a cage of my own making, gnawing away at the ropes only hurts me further, blood gushing from my mouth.
I didn't go back to the prison. I couldn't. I couldn't even go back to the station.
I just started walking, step, step, step, to… Wherever.
I don't know.
I just know that the water keeps splashing, my boots feel wet, my clothes heavy, my eye lids heavier.
Wouldn't it be beautiful to go to sleep?
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Dream of a world, of a me, far better than what really is.
A me that could deserve being saved.
For what?
Why not?
Why at all?
Have I not proven enough yet that I can't do anything, not even stop that deranged girl from hurting herself?
I can't even make my own family feel safe. They would rather be in danger because of me.
I look up, and still see only mist, smog, and clouds. You'd think it was evening.
Everything is so unclear. Everything sounds muted.
Everything feels heavy.
Everything but the gun in my hands.
I CAN smell something. Sea air. Must be on the pier near the really rundown cul de sacs of Royal Woods. Lindberg Lane, probably.
Wouldn't lying down be really nice right now?
Just lying down, closing my eyes, drifting off…
Forever.
My hand shakes, the gun feeling slightly heavier now.
Shannon and Greg…
They…
No.
They don't need me.
I'm…
'Something in the way.'
There's always something in the way.
The corrupt police, the whole damn force.
The vigilante.
Me.
I'm in the way.
I'm blocking it all.
Clearly, someone better has to do this, if there can be even a smidgen of hope.
And when there's something in the way…
'It needs to be removed.'
I lift the gun, look at it.
I look at it.
I look at it.
I look at it.
The gun shivers.
I shiver.
And the only things in the water now are my tears.
I just…
I don't know.
'I don't know.', I cry for help, silently.
Praying for a miracle.
(Penguin of Guilt - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
Lori's POV:
Between the unclear skies, almost like a ghost, there I stand, watching the apartment complexes around the cul-de-sac. Each one could be the host of the kidnapping, and I have to stay vigilant.
Four buildings, all frustratingly similar. No sign of anyone on the ground, at least from here. I'll fly over to another roof in a minute for a better angle. The rainstorm makes it harder to see too.
I groan as I think of how useful some binoculars would be. How useful some gadgets could have been in the daring escape I had to make from Captain Griffin. If my powers are going to be like this, and seeing as they don't cover every obstacle… I better figure something out.
I must.
It's so hard.
My proto costume feels heavy, my breathing laboured, but I try to keep going. Whoever is in they're going to need me.
I can't let them down.
Not again.
Please.
Not again.
The rain bears down on me, on my hoodie cap, on my shoulders, on my visible breath.
One of the windows is literally so reflective, and I can see myself, the torn, gangly 'G' standing out in the darkness.
I bite my lip, thinking of what could happen.
I think of Lincoln, and my knees nearly buckle.
The window reflection changes to that of Lincoln, crying for my help.
For my love. My poisoned chalice.
Instead, he lies down, shot, hurt. Yes, it could have been worse, far far worse.
But it doesn't take away from what I allowed to happen, on purpose or not.
Lincoln IS hurt, IS on a wheelchair, because of ME.
Lightning crashes.
The guilt, it wraps around me, like a heavy coat, one I can't take off. Like a knee brace that slows my steps. Like a weight on my shoulders.
I can't forget it, I can't ever forget it, lest I make that mistake again.
But remembering it, spending every waking and sleeping moment on it, it's burning my insides, leaving ashes.
But if I don't think about it, what if I make a wrong move? What if I get lax?
And what if thinking about it all the time IS what distracts me?
Too many thoughts. I close my eyes, trying to focus on one thing.
But all I can see are more and more children, innocent people, crying out for help.
Their tears are the rain bearing down on me, their tears fall down all around me, an eternal reminder of what The Guardian, what I vow to do, as lightning crashes again, and I stand there, resolute, at least, as resolute as I can. What I promise to do. What I so want to do.
To keep everyone safe. Their happiness is worth adding to the rain with my own tears.
But can I do that?
It feels like everything I do makes things worse.
I'm too sad, or too angry, or too relaxed. Why can't I just be driven, just do my job, do it right, and be good enough?
So far today, all I've learned is that, duh, something is going to happen. A kidnapping.
But it's taken all my ability to do that.
And if I fail again…
Then can I really go on doing anything?
I guess what I wish I knew was…
Was what I've wanted to know since this whole thing started.
Can I truly be a hero?
I'm willing to try. I MUST try. I WILL.
But if I fail…
Suddenly, I hear it, piercing through, just about reaching me. A cut off scream.
Snapping into action, I run to the edge of the building and leap into the air, lightning crashing once more, illuminating me in light and darkness. The scream came from the window in front of me, or maybe below me? I open the window on the top, and look around.
Just an empty green room, though clearly there was a scuffle. Broken window!
NO!
Going down the stairs in one jump, I make the floor rattle, but no one is there to see it. Clearly something happened here. Where?
I suddenly hear the ignition of a car. A van.
Crashing through the window, full alert, I see a car prepare to drive off. A man is closing a trunk.
And barely visible, inside, is a boy.
The same boy from earlier today.
A boy about the age of Lincoln.
I don't hear the horrible scream I apparently uttered, but the car windows explode. The driver looks out, a woman, but she doesn't see me. She just proceeds to drive. I try to follow, wild, raging, desperate. I must stop this I MUST stop this I MUST STOP THIS I WON'T FAIL YOU LINCOLN NOT AGAIN I PROMISED I PROMISED I…
CRASH!
But one last time, lightning crashes, and I barely absorb it like when Organised Chaos attacked me. I fall down, the electricity sparkling around me, my emotionally bruised body barely pushing my back up from the mud and puddles, the rain all over me. The tears of that boy, who only I know is in danger.
And all I can see is this van, with the words 'Magical Mystery Tour' flashing on it.
And my tears join the boy's in broken song.
I stay there, frozen. I can't move. I can't…
'You.'
Regular POV:
(Riddles, Riddles, Everywhere - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
The Guardian looked up, and was face to face with Captain Griffin, who shakily held her gun at the vigilante.
'Why are you following me? What do you want from me?', she asked, sounding dazed almost. It was scary, and Guardian gulped, and tried to keep the captain calm. She had far more pressing issues after all.
'Nothing! I'm just trying to stop this kidnapping, but it failed, and if I don't hurry up, an innocent boy is going to be hurt!', she explained, no nonsense, no time for anything else.
Captain Griffin didn't listen, though. 'A likely story. What makes you think I believe that? You know I want to lock you away, you'd do anything to escape!', she gave The Guardian a fierce stare, the muddy and dirty hero looking almost as swept up by the storm as her.
Guardian uttered a low growl. 'I don't have time for your fucking crusade against me! There is a kid literally in danger! And if you don't believe me, let me prove it!'
The Guardian finally turned on her two way radio earrings, and ordered 'Police scanner on, stat!'
Back at the Loud House, Lincoln was surprised at the sudden order, woken up from his deep sleep. He was tasked with remaining in bed today to be extra careful with the final stages of his recovery. But when he turned on the camera and saw Captain Griffin with a gun, he kept quiet, and turned the scanner on.
'Calling all cops, calling all cops, kidnapping sighted at Lindberg Lane. Investigation to proceed.'
Guardian almost smugly smiled at Griffin, who opened and closed her mouth a few times in surprise. 'All cops… But they didn't tell me. And sighted? There isn't anyone here. And even if there was, wouldn't they follow the kidnappers?'
Guardian took a deep breath, a serious look in her eyes, one that told Griffin a lot. 'I would never lie about something like that. You may not like me, Captain. But I want to save this city too.'
Griffin considered it. It was all very suspicious. Even if the vigilante was lying, could she really take that chance? More people hurt?
She groaned, realising where this was going. It actually hurt. Why, why couldn't it just go right for her?
Going was a potential win-win. The kid could be found, at least. And if no kid, then the vigilante would be arrested.
But could she really do it?
Probably not.
But her heart couldn't let her take that risk.
But she would keep things by the book… At least, as much as she could.
'I am not working with you. I just happened to hear what you had to say about what you witnessed, and then used that to find the kidnapped kid. And if by chance you came along, well, then there wasn't much I could do with a super powered vigilante, now could I?', Griffin carefully worded her proposal, looking very pained, not keeping eye contact.
Guardian nodded. 'Whatever it takes to save him.'
Guardian then pointed to where it seemed the car had gone. 'I didn't see a licence plate. Just a van.'
'Anything on the van?', Griffin asked, her breath visible thanks to the rain. The two women were getting more and more drenched, but they were used to it.
Guardian thought hard, tapping her chin. 'Just the words 'Magical Mystery Tour'.'
Griffin's eyes widened.
'You know something?', Guardian asked.
'Commercial this morning on TV. Was the van multicoloured, but greying? Were the words plaster decaying, tearing off the van?'
'Yes.', Guardian answered, eyes widening too.
Griffin nodded towards the where Guardian had pointed. 'They're at the outskirts of town. It's not much, who's to say they would go back to their store…'
'But it's all we've got.', Guardian finished her sentence.
The two women stared at each other.
And nodded.
'Truth.', they said at the same time, and rushed, one to a car she would unfortunately have to 'borrow', the other to carry said car through the rainy sky to find the criminals fast enough.
To rescue the boy, the town, from the evil they both so hated.
To finally do the right thing by them.
(Hoarding School - Michael Giacchino, The Batman soundtrack)
It took them longer than they hoped to reach the exact right location in the outskirts, though honestly, anything more than a second was disappointing. An hour had passed, and it could have taken half an hour at most for the kidnappers to arrive from what ended up being the correct route.
The windshield wipers just about revealed to Captain Griffin the scene, a small, humble magic store, sitting idly in the middle of…
'A desert?', The Guardian voiced in confusion, landing the car onto the sandy plain. Griffin exited the car, kicking up sand and grime into her eyes, making her grunt in pain.
Guardian surveyed the area, scratching her head. 'All that's missing are some of those rolling dusty things you see in westerns.'
'Not real sand.', Griffin answered her, leaning down to pick at the sand. 'This area of the country literally can't support a desert, it's just not that kind of terrain. In fact, this used to be a riverbank.'
Guardian seemed even more puzzled now, as a sea air hit the odd pair. 'Why would anyone go to all that trouble?'
'I don't know. Clearly, some sick freak, considering what he's done. Come on, time's a wastin'.'
Guardian nodded, alert again, and the two marched up to the door of the store, a regular rectangular store with a giant hat on top, reading 'For The Benefit of Mr. Kite''.
Griffin pounded on the door, her gun at the ready. 'RWPD, OPEN UP!'
She tried again. 'OPEN THE DOOR, I HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!'
Nothing.
'Okay, I need to be quiet, so I'll just…', Griffin reached into her pocket to get a picklock, but before she could…
SMASH!
The door was in pieces, Guardian having punched it.
'What did you think I meant by quiet?!', Griffin scolded the teen, who bit her lip. 'I was just trying to get us in…'
'Yes, and what if they were going to ambush us?', Griffin frowned at her in frustration, and walked inside, Guardian behind her, annoyed at her own stupid mistakes. She couldn't afford any if she was gonna save that kid.
Looking around the place, the two rescuers were mesmerised by the place, and how… Off it was.
The posters for magic acts, with big bold letters and amazed faces of children, yellowing at the edges, curling up at the corners. Circles around phrases like 'NEVER BEFORE SEEN!', 'NEW AND EXCITING!', 'THRILLS AND CHILLS!'.
The room had purples and greens and blues and reds, almost like a carnival fun house, a pop up book come to life. But the playing cards were covered in blood stains, blotching the pure white paper. The crates and closets and escape contraptions were dusty and full of firearms, out of place with the rest of the room. The rabbits and doves peaked out of their cages, making not a single sound. Guardian petted one rabbit, seeing it unused to a touch that was with any feeling.
'Creepy.', was all Griffin had to say, as she stared at a seemingly regular mirror that made her seem all abstract. When Guardian looked at it, she was big, then small, scary, then her regular self. 'Yeah. Creepy.'
The two looked around, searching for some sign of life, some sign of where they had to go.
'Where are they hiding, the maniac?', Griffin asked herself, looking at one of the rooms, but finding nothing.
Guardian tapped her chin in thought, thinking of Lincoln. 'Magicians usually call people up for two kinds of tricks: Close up magic, and locking them in boxes and stuff.'
'What?', Griffin asked, looking out from one of the rooms. Guardian explained as she went near one of the double boxes for cutting someone in half. 'Magicians usually call people up for those two kinds of tricks I mentioned. Close up magic makes no sense, here, but maybe the answer is in one of these boxes.' She opened the cases of one, shook her head, and moved to another pair.
Griffin approached her, reprimanding. 'I get your thought process, but this is guesswork, who's to say it's that kind of box, or even any kind of box? I know we're dealing with someone crazy, but surely it wouldn't be that…'
Suddenly, with a heavy thud, Guardian opened the right set of boxes, and revealed a trap door smack bang in the middle, hidden between the supposed trick, with a sign that said 'Welcome, The Show is About to Begin'.
Griffin nodded, transfixed. '...Damn.'
Guardian smiled, but not at herself. 'My… An associate of mine is very fond of stage magic. And I'm very fond of him, so…'
'Well, then, I'm very fond of stopping child kidnappers.', Griffin replied, pushing the doors open. 'Literally me.', Guardian replied quietly, enjoying the sudden banter.
But the feeling of progress was cut short, as appearing before their eyes beneath the door was another door, with a passcode, the numbers 0-9 glinting at them in the dark room.
'Damn it!', The Guardian exclaimed, looking a little stressed and angry. 'How are we gonna guess this, it could take forever!'
'No need. People are mostly predictable when it comes to stuff like this.', Griffin calmly navigated the possibilities while informing the vigilante, jotting down numbers in her notebook. Guardian watched her work, intrigued.
'Now, we don't have a birth date. Our code is 3 digits. It could be the date…', she entered 3-1-3, but it flashed red, and reset. 'All right, then. Address is too long to be 3 digits… What else…'
Griffin looked around, trying to find something, anything.
'God. Never can get lucky, huh?', Guardian muttered, feeling hopeless.
'Lucky… That's it!', Griffin cried, and she began to tap in the code.
'7-7-7? That's so easy?', Guardian asked, confused.
'Remember the magic theme? People like this tend to think in patterns, symbolism.', Griffin explained, as the code was configuring slowly. '7 is considered the lucky number, the most symbolic. Magical, if you will. And 3 digits could stand for 3 is a crowd. Why else the whole 'Welcome, the show is beginning' sign?'
Guardian gaped a little as the door opened now, allowing them access to the secret hidden bottom floor of the house. 'That was INCREDIBLE.'
Griffin shrugged. 'It's part and parcel of the job.'
The two stared down at the cobweb filled staircase, wooden, creaky. It felt like stepping into a haunted house, and once they managed to fit in, and get down, they were in a medieval cellar, it seemed. Guardian opened her phone's flashlight, emitting a now eerie blue glow across the dark dungeon-like area. There were no pictures, no mantelpieces, no pieces of furniture. Just…
Nothing.
'Well, I'll never get this done frozen to the spot.', Griffin whispered, and she began to walk the only possible direction, only for The Guardian to stop her, alert and alarmed. 'What are you doing?', Griffin hissed, not liking the contact.
'What if they have cameras? We need the element of surprise.', Guardian pointed out.
'...I guess we're just breaking all the laws, then?', Griffin asked, arms crossed.
'No, I am, remember? You just happened to be there at the same time.', Guardian reminded, a little friction between the two now. Griffin sighed, and looked around. 'Whatever. Just let's find that kid already.'
The two searched for any air currents, hoping to find some secret passageway, or maybe a more subtle route. Nothing showed up, until Griffin suddenly had an idea.
Opening one of the doors to the side, there was a very dingy and shadowy toilet, with a series of thin pipes stretching down to the floor.
'These pipes are like the ones back in the prison. In other words…', Griffin easily removed them, revealing a disgusting and slimy, but vital, passageway.
'Crap.'
Guardian stepped in, cringing, taking out a bottle of air freshener and spraying her foot immediately. 'Gross, gross, gross, gross.'
Griffin rolled her eyes, and the two walked through the sludgy swamp, splash, splash, splash. The sewer smelt like burning corpses, and the only colour was green, horrible, sickly green.
The two walked in silence, listening for any sign of life, but there was none. The dread and mind numbing fear for the innocent boy haunted their hearts, and they wallowed in their collective guilt.
Trying to somehow distract herself, unsuccessfully, Griffin asked a question without bothering to look. '...What's with the different look?'
'Hmm?', Guardian asked, not looking either.
'I mean… This isn't your regular… Costume.', Griffin tried to choke out. 'If you hadn't been floating back at the prison, I would have thought you were a really lazy cosplayer.'
'Oh, well…', The Guardian felt her symbol weigh on her chest, her heart pounding with scars all over it. '...It felt heavy.'
A momentary look of understanding, even sympathy, etched itself on Griffin's face, as they turned a corner into an even grimier area. Guardian's boots were getting covered in mud, and Griffin's badge looked like it bled swamp water. 'I… I know the feeling.', she muttered, depressed.
'What?', Guardian asked, not sure if she heard right. She swiveled her head in Griffin's direction, but the captain didn't acquiesce. 'Nothing.'
'No, really, what?', Guardian pressed.
Griffin pinched the bridge of her nose. 'Let's just say… There aren't just a FEW bad apples in the barrel.'
Guardian nodded, already aware of it. But she shook her head at the idea of it all. 'I don't get it, honestly. (Splash, splash) It's weird enough that anyone would hurt another person knowingly. But what's the gain? There wasn't even a ransom threat, or… Or something!'
Griffin shook her head, but not at the concept. 'You really are just a kid.'
'What do you mean?', Guardian gave her a quizzical look.
Griffin stopped in her tracks, and finally faced Guardian, the two warriors staring each other right in the eyes. 'That's how life is. That's how people are. You saw this store! The blood on the cards, this sick desire to have us see their work!'
Guardian kept her stare, still holding onto SOME sympathy, thinking of Mr. Stone, of Heist. 'A broken mind doesn't equal a black heart.'
'Sure, but the signs add up! Don't tell me you think all those criminals you've fought are angels!'
Guardian thought of the people at the Fox's Den, at her disgust of them. Had she been too harsh? But then again… There was the man who shot Lincoln. The Raven.
'...Mr. E…', she breathed his name, a shiver running down her spine. She remembered HIM all too well. How he claimed not dissimilar things to what the Captain was saying.
'Yeah. Exactly. And guess what? That maniac who kidnapped a child got released on bail. And I bet you the same will happen to this freak.', Griffin nearly spat, and resumed her march.
Guardian followed, but slowly, feeling horrible. E was still out there… What atrocities could he still commit?
'I… I had no idea…', Guardian choked out, lost.
'We're on a sinking ship, and the rats are in every nook and cranny.', Griffin said, before sounding resentful. 'Makes one wonder why you even bother. You didn't change anything.'
Guardian got defensive, less for herself, more for who she saved, and how they were still alive, still good. 'I saved that family.'
'But now he'll threaten more! You're breaking the law, and not even getting results! Why?', Griffin asked, snarling almost, staring angrily at the vigilante.
'I… I have to help.', Guardian answered, but she seemed less confident, stricken with doubt and guilt.
'Why. No one is good in this world. Not really. Whatever you do, it fails. I tried to expose corruption, and it nearly got my family killed. There's no point, we're all swimming in the muck.', Griffin silently laid out, lashing out at the whole concept of The Guardian.
'You don't have to tell me how bad I am, I know I am! But…', Guardian tried, but trailed off.
'You'll only make things worse.'
'I can…', Guardian tried.
'How?', Griffin countered. The two were face to face, broken spirits clashing in darkness.
'I… If I just…', Guardian searched for words, only for the two to hear a sound.
(Highway to the Anger Zone- Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
The sound of footsteps. Coming from above.
As if in a trance, they left off their argument, and found a ladder leading to a second bathroom sewer grate. From the corner of the almost closed door, there was a room bathed in orange light, an auditorium, and inside it were guards armed with small knives.
The auditorium was a stark contrast to the sewers below, seeming warm and inviting. There was a full and olfactory satisfying popcorn machine, a shiny silver drink dispenser of sorts, a beautiful balsa wood floor, and the guards were dressed like a barbershop quartet, with matching straw hats and golden canes. Yet, they all held tools that could cut down anyone in seconds.
'When are they coming?', asked one guard.
'I don't know, but it don't matter. Everything is ready, we even took care of the audience.', answered another.
'What did that mean?', The Guardian thought. Had they locked the kid somewhere?
'So, what's the plan?', she asked, eyeing all this with trepidation.
Griffin looked around the room from the corner, and saw a door for a stage, one that surely led to their goal. She leaned in to whisper in Guardian's ear. 'Okay, let's be honest here, if anyone can take a room full of heavily armed goons, it's you. Distract them long enough so I can take a subtle peek in that room, and see if the kid is in there.'
Guardian nodded and saluted. 'Ay ay, captain.'
'Please don't say that.', Griffin remarked, though there was the slightest, barely perceptible hint of a smile.
Taking a deep breath, The Guardian closed and opened her eyes, then burst through the door, sending it flying off its hinges.
'WHAT THE? NO ONE SAID SHE WAS COMING!', one of the guards said, raising his knife. The other three followed suit, all charging at Guardian, who didn't care, and simply ran AT them, causing the slightest hesitation and flinch.
Perfect for her.
Getting a bit of momentum, she hurtled herself forwards in a mini fly, fists connecting with two of the men, the other two missing her. The two punched guards went flying back and smashed into a poster for the show, the glass cracking and falling down in shards.
'You're not getting in the way this time!', Guard number 3 cried, getting up from his miss and stabbing at Guardian's insignia. She dodged twice, then dodged a swinging knife from Guard 4 who went behind her, narrowly limboing away from it, though her hoodie cap nearly got caught.
'Not THAT tough, eh?', Guard 3 chuckled, as the first two guards got up and charged at Guardian. 3 threw his knife at her, the blade twisted and jagged. Guardian remembered the drink dispenser, and, thinking fast, grabbed the knife in mid air, only getting cut slightly on her palm. She then threw back in a pitch that Lynn would be proud of, the knife going so fast thanks to her super strength that it hit a button that caused the machine to spew out all the soda, hitting the first two guards and sending them hurtling back to the broken poster again.
'Just hit her, it's not that hard!', Guard 4 ordered, and he leapt at The Guardian, his knife about to strike her, stab her right in the stomach. Guardian thought of the boy who needed her, and put all her anger and determination in her stomach.
CRINKKKK!
The blade of the knife flew off, the handle now naked and nearly broken. Guard 4 looked at her with horror. Guardian looked at him with fierce resolve.
Suddenly, she noticed he had a gun.
'I've already used it on one kid today. Might as well do it again.', the man said, not knowing what a mistake that was to say that in front of HER.
Her stare turned shocked…
Then something…
Terrifying.
As that happened, Griffin sneaked along, finding her way to the door. There was no lock or anything, just a simple push and she was in.
But the dark room held no real answers. There was a stage, but the seats were empty. Was the kid held backstage? Or maybe somewhere she hadn't seen yet? She couldn't take a chance, so she decided to get Guardian with her so all hands were on deck for the final stage.
But as she came back, she gasped and stared in shock at the scene.
Guard 4 was in the back, having just avoided a barrage of fists and kicks. The other three guards weren't as lucky.
Guard 1's nose broke from a single fist, blood spewing everywhere. He laid down on the floor, begging for help.
Guad 2's knee cap nearly shattered from the force of a hard kick, and he screamed and cussed.
Guard 3 took out a twisted, curved knife, and threw it like a boomerang, but The Guardian avoided it with an insane leap into the air. Then, she leapt on the balsa wood floor, loosening a floor board like it was nothing, twisting it to a curve, then threw it like a boomerang too. It smacked the three guards, making them writhe in pain even more.
All the while, The Guardian had a dark, fiery look in her eyes. Yesterday, she seemed an angel, determined to save everyone, even the villain. Today, she looked like a demon crying out in pain and anger, her torn insignia, scratched dirtied cheeks, and muddy boots, alongside shadowy appearance, making her look like a monster out to take out the other monsters.
And there was one in mind she wanted to hurt.
'YOU', she exclaimed, so declaratively that it shook the room. Guard 4 screamed in panic and tried to shoot at her.
She slapped the bullet away with her elbow, sending it flying to his arm, making him drop his gun.
'HOW DOES THAT FEEL', she shouted, terrifying the man further. She threw him at the popcorn machine, the glass breaking, then picked him up and slammed him on the ground, breaking his strong arm further.
'Okay, that's enough now!', Griffin cried, trying to stop Guardian from going too far, but it wasn't working. The raging heroine began to beat away at the man's face, making him bleed more and more.
'THAT'S WHAT YOU DID TO HIM! HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO?!', she shouted and shouted and punched and punched and…
'STOP RIGHT NOW!'
Guardian's head shot up, and she stared right down the barrel of Griffin's gun, the adult infuriated at this behaviour.
'See, this is EXACTLY why you shouldn't be out there! You're wild, vengeful, and you're doing nothing that helps this city! You're making it worse!', Griffin cried, Guardian calming down, horrified guilt crashing into her for what she had done. She looked down at him. The man was alive, of course, but heavily beaten. He looked at her with abject terror. 'What am I doing?', she thought, alarmed at herself.
Griffin almost began to cry, as she pointed at the G on Guardian's chest, torn, bloodied, abstract. 'What does that mean, huh? You call yourself a Guardian! But you can't, you can't do this!'
She then really did begin to cry, talking to herself as well. 'How… How do you keep going… How do you go about fixing things when you're so broken?'
Guardian wanted to answer.
But…
'I… I don't know…'
'HELP!'
Suddenly, the two swivelled their heads towards the theatre, the room where Griffin had been.
Without a word, the two knew they had to investigate, so they walked off into there, careful, on the lookout.
When they entered, they saw that the seats were empty, and so was the stage.
But at the back, hidden with the trash cans, was a long closet, tipped to the side.
The two stared at each other, a little afraid, then stepped cautiously towards it.
Guardian opened the door, and…
There was the boy.
But not just him.
There were 12 kids, young and slightly older, all huddled, all tear stricken, all shaking. When they looked up, they screamed.
'SHH, SHH!', Griffin exclaimed, accidentally waving her gun, making them more scared. She was scared too, but for different reasons. 12 children? What monster did this?
'You have to calm down, or it will get worse!', Griffin tried, while Guardian looked at them with even more pain, nearly tearing up. Who could do such a thing?
'Who did this to you?', Guardian asked, furious at this evil. The children were scared and confused. Some recognized her insignia, but the others thought it was a cosplayer. Guardian got agitated, and asked again, far too intense. 'I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE!'
Some kids, the younger ones, start to cry, a girl with pigtails, a boy with glasses and no hair, one of the older boys, holding onto his little sister, who stared at her like one stares at a demon.
Guardian felt shame, and hung her head low. She felt like a monster again. Here she was, doing more harm than good, again. 'Maybe she's right. Maybe I just can't do it, I'm not good enough…', she thought, heart broken.
(The Bat's True Calling - Michael Giacchino)
But then, she noticed him. The kid, Roscoe, who was kidnapped, the same one from the alleyway earlier that day, with a very lucky leg that was only slightly scraped by the bullet. He shivers next to his terrified big sister, like no kid should. He looks at her, fear in his eyes.
He needs her.
'And I have to… I WILL help him.', The Guardian resolved, staring at him with all the love in the world. She checked herself, and lowered her voice.
'Please. Is there anything you can tell me?'
Roscoe couldn't seem to talk, and Savannah looked traumatised too. They were both with wounds. How she wished she had some bandaids for them, like she had when she was out with the younger sisters at the playground. 'I really do need to think of some tools and gadgets for everyday use, or for when my powers are down.', Guardian thought, as she remembered nearly failing to fly earlier. Suddenly, Guardian noticed the rabbit plush he's holding. Small, grey, fuzzy. Reminiscent of Lincoln's.
She smiled softly, and immediately Roscoe felt a bit better. Every word sounded like a hug of reassurance, of safety. Every look she gave was overflowing with care, with a promise of love.
'...I like your plush.'
Roscoe looks\ed up at her, still holding tightly onto the plush, like it was the branch that kept him from falling into the depths. '...His name is Colonel Rabbit.'
Guardian gave a small wave. 'Hi, Colonel Rabbit. It's an honour to meet you.'. She saluted him, and Roscoe couldn't help but stifle the smallest laugh.
Griffin and Savanna stare at this, absorbed.
Guardian edges a little closer, the other kids all listening to her, all feeling her aura. She positioned her hand near the plush, but made it available for Roscoe. 'You know, I like rabbits too, Colonel.' She pointed at her two way radio earrings. 'They have long ears too, see?', she made them wiggle. Roscoe nodded the colonel's head, as he nodded too.
'I also have a plush friend back home.', she informed, and the kids all stared at her in surprise. How could the big tough superhero have something just like them, so ordinary?
'Yeah.', Guardian said, nodding at all the kids' stunned faces. 'A teddy bear named Bearverly. She… Likes to play golf. And when I need to feel safer, she hugs me.', her hand was now even closer to roscoe, and her words were so quiet, yet so commanding, that you could hear a pin drop.
'You… You need to feel safe too?', Roscoe asked what all the kids were thinking, everyone looking at her with much curiosity.
'Yeah.', she replied ever so softly.
Roscoe looked at his sister, then back at The Guardian, and he edged just a little closer. 'I… Colonel Rabbit saw him. The scary man and his assistants. He would… Really like to tell you, so you can… You can make him feel safe.'
The Guardian felt Roscoe grab her hand, and she held back comfortingly, giving him her warmth. She looked at all the kids as she replied 'Of course. I would really appreciate that, Colonel.'
Suddenly, the other kids edged closer too, young and old, and they all slowly grabbed her hand.
The Guardian felt her breath hitch for a moment, felt the weight of it all.
But she did what she could to put her troubles aside to make them feel safe.
Captain Griffin opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just looked at it, and felt something inside of her.
She just wasn't sure what it was.
'Colonel Rabbit heard the man, he's some kind of magician. He and his assistants, they've got this mirror trick planned, they said. A mountain of mirrors, from bottom to top, and he's gonna use it when help arrives. I guess help is you.', Roscoe divulged, and the two women listened attentively.
'Where is the magician now, Colonel?', Guardian asked, only to have her question answered from behind her.
'Ready for the show!'
(A Bat in the Rafters, Part 1 - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
'David Blackstone' appeared from a puff of smoke on the stage, taking a curt bow. But the momentary excitement, the first he had had in so long, faded as he saw before him not the police force, but…
'Well, what do we have here? A couple of intruders? This was NOT in the program for tonight! Though that explains the early arrival.', 'Blackstone' complained, pointing at Griffin and The Guardian. 'Glamour' ran from backstage, excitedly pointing at a newspaper 'Illusion' held. 'Don't worry, master! I know who this is! It's The Guardian!'
'The who?', 'Blackstone' asked, legitimately unsure.
'Didn't ya hear? She's, like, a superhero!', 'Glamour' whooped, twirling in the air.
'Blackstone' tapped his chin in thought. 'A vigilante, and some officer I wasn't told about. Very well, it's better than nothing.'
Guardian stood up, pointing at 'Blackstone' with her gloved hand full of dust and soot from the theatre. 'It's curtains for your act, maniac! Let those children go right now!'
Griffin's gun shook, but she tried to intimidate too. 'Yeah, scumbag! Your encore is going to be at Royal Woods penitentiary!'
'Oh, am I? It's lovely of you to assume that, but I have it all planned, even for surprises such as yourselves! The show ends in exactly ten minutes, and not a MINUTE earlier!', 'Blackstone' commanded, and he released a flurry of robotic doves, aiming straight for The Guardian and Griffin.
'Not if I can help it.', Guardian cried, and she moved back and forth, her fists suddenly leaping at two of the doves, breaking them into pieces.
(A Bat in the Rafters, Part 2 - Michael Giacchino)
Griffin, slightly panicking, shot one down, but was attacked by the other, while Guardian tried to grab it. The dove shot out sharp feathers at her, scratching her cheeks further, blood droplets trickling down from her face.
'Well… Stronger than she seems.' 'Blackstone' whispered to himself, preparing a coin. He charged forwards, surprising the two heroes, who aimed punches at him. He dived, then rose up to reveal two coins behind their ears.
ZAP!
Electricity shot out, shocking the two. Not enough to damage permanently, but enough to stun them for a minute.
'Pitiful. I expected more.', 'Blackstone' judged, leaving back to the stage. 'Carry them backstage, ladi…'
'What… That's it?'
'Blackstone', betraying a little dismay in his eyes, turned sharply.
The Guardian was back up on her feet, helping to stabilise Griffin. She stared daggers at the magician, and smirked, spitting out blood, knuckles clenching and shaking. 'Pitiful. I expected more.'
The kids cheered, seeing hope again.
'Blackstone' growled, frustrated. 'Enough child's play. The adults are occupied.', he took out his pen, and shot the magic bullet, smiling. 'Only the most professional can handle this trick! Bye bye, little girl!'
Everything was in slow motion. Guardian thought of her promise to Roscoe, and stayed steady on her feet, ready.
After all…
TINK!
'Blackstone' gaped, rubbing his eyes. 'No… It can't, it's… Impossible, I…'
The Guardian bit down on the bullet in her mouth, splitting it into two, the halves falling onto the floor in a chink that 'Blackstone' would never forget.
'...Sorry. I've seen this trick before.', Guardian smiled slyly.
'Blackstone' had had enough. As he tried to piece together what he had seen, he stepped back onto the stage. 'All right, then. I guess I WILL take you seriously. 'Illusion'! 'Glamour'! Handle her while I get things ready.'
'Oh no you don't!', Griffin cried, only to get thrown off balance by a staff made of magic wands. Looking up in pain, holding her shoulder, Griffin saw 'Glamour' laugh wildly, looking like a kid in a candy shop. 'I NEVER get to mercilessly beat anyone! This is gonna be fun!'
'Captain, I'll help…', Guardian tried, only to get sliced on the cheek once more by a flying playing card. 'Illusion' had no expression as she stepped closer and closer.
'Out of my way!', Guardian shouted, desperate to go backstage and stop 'Blackstone', the kids continuing to egg her on.
But 'Illusion' was no joke. Guardian went for a right hook, but got stopped immediately by a raising card, like it was nothing. She went for a left kick, and got scratched again. Guardian breathed heavily, dazed. 'Illusion' yawned.
'No use, blondie! 'Illusion' here read all about you, every single move! She won't be surprised by anything!', 'Glamour' hollered, as she continued to smack Griffin with the staff, Griffin not knowing what to do, her forehead filled with bruises now.
Suddenly, she noticed a pipe in the bathroom over there. Scrambling into the room, she grabbed the pipe and started blocking 'Glamour's attacks.
The darkness wasn't helping, the only light coming from the stage 'Blackstone' had been on. Guardian got struck over and over by the cards, until she was nearly crying from the pain. Her arms and legs buckled a little, and she tried to regain her breath.
PUNCH BLOCK KICK BLOCK PUNCH BLOCK HEADBUTT BLOCK
It was like one of those Japanese cartoons Lynn liked. 'Illusion' was super fast, blocking everything, then striking, hurting Guardian further. What could she possibly do to surprise her?
'Wait…', Guardian thought, looking at her backpack that was sitting next to the kids. 'The Guardian never has any gadgets…', she thought with a bright smile, and she rushed to it.
'Illusion' followed, empty cold eyes, as Guardian pretended to trip and fall onto the floor. She looked like she could take all the blood in the world. Not an ounce of emotion at being able to slit her throat. 'Illusion' raised her card high.
Guardian turned around, hand holding onto the air freshener can, and she yelled out in victory.
SPRITZ!
'Illusion's eyes burned, and she looked at Guardian with actual emotion. Still no words were spoken, but they didn't need to. She charged at her with murderous abandon, but got spritzed again, then tripped. Guardian pinned her to the floor with the cards.
'Captain, let me…', Guardian called, but she didn't need to. Griffin held and held and held, trying to deflect the wand staff. It was excruciating, and she felt her body tearing apart.
'I can't… I can't…', she muttered, knowing she was gonna die, 'Glamour' smiling at her and laughing. This was it. Finally. She would get what she deserved…
'You can! Of course you can!', Guardian shouted, trying to encourage her. 'You care about this city more than anyone! I don't care if you failed… Your heart is bigger than anyone else!'
Griffin side eyed her. Guardian had taken playing cards, bullets, knives, and electric shocks to the face. She had taken the existential questioning from herself. She hated herself, like Griffin did. Yet here she was…
Still standing. Still going on.
Griffin thought of the kids. If she had to die, at least not next to them. They suffered enough.
So she gritted her teeth.
She screamed.
She held on and on and on and on, pushing 'Glamour' backwards. 'What the hell?', 'Glamour' cried out in pain, and she lost her grip ever so slightly.
Griffin took advantage. One thwack, and 'Glamour' was out for the count.
The Guardian rushed over to see if she was okay. Griffin backed off, but then softened a little. Not looking, she said '...Thanks.'
'Don't mention it.', Guardian said, and a small moment of respect passed between them.
'WHY ARE YOU BOWING? THERE IS ONE MORE TRICK LEFT!'
(Batman Theme 2022 But Only The Good Part - Status and Viral Vids)
Guardian's eyes widened and she gasped as the curtains parted to reveal the mountain of mirrors, with 'Blackstone' in every single reflection, holding up his magic wand that had shot a bullet before.
'Here lies the challenge, child! The trick was meant for others, but the best laid plans of mice and men, you know. SOMEONE will see my brilliance, even if it is just YOU.', he declared, an evil sneer on his face showing an actual emotion for once.
Guardian listened intently as he explained. 'Allow me to set the stage: You have to find me in one, count it, ONE minute. If you don't, I start firing… And who knows where the bullets will go…'
Guardian looked back at the kids, at Roscoe, and she saw Lincoln.
And her blood boiled.
'HOW DARE YOU!', she bellowed, like a viking warrior almost, beserking her way into the mountain, punching the first mirror she saw. It shattered into a million pieces, but revealed no one but her, thanks to a second panel. Guardian wondered how that was possible, but she didn't care right now.
'50 seconds…', 'Blackstone' teased, tick tocking from… Somewhere. She couldn't tell.
'NO, I WON'T LET YOU… I CAN'T!', Guardian screamed again, guilt and resentment and rage fueling her. She punched two mirrors and kicked two others, but still nothing.
'40 seconds… My, my, you ARE temperamental. I can see it in you… The guilt. Eating away. I know, 'cause I've never seen that look in my own eyes. Must be a real chore, dealing with such thoughts.', 'Blackstone' continued to tease, sounding so far away despite the mirrors. It didn't make sense…
Guardian thought of what was at stake. Her breathing was ragged, her heart like a heavy metal drum. She saw herself, and was scared. She couldn't… No, she WOULDN'T fail. She had let it take over her before, and it nearly hurt that guard in a serious way.
She had to focus…
'25 seconds!'
'I have to… To… To put my guilt aside. Myself aside. For them. I have to do what I can the best I can. It's the only way I can finally help.', Guardian deduced.
'18 seconds!'
His voice got more and more gleeful. She closed her eyes. 'Focus', she thought, slowing her breath. She listened, listened as hard as she could for any telltale sign. All she could hear were scratch marks from the direction of the only mirror she hadn't broken so far, the one right in front of her.
'10 seconds!'
Guardian considers it. It's too obvious, no? He wants to finally show his brilliance, he…
'Oh.'
She smiles.
'5 seconds! You've lost!', 'Blackstone' cries, about to unload the gun, when…
FWOOSH!
The Guardian flew up, revealing that hidden behind the top mirror was 'Blackstone' on stilts.
'What? How?!', 'Blackstone' cried, eyes wide with awe.
Guardian heroically smirked, said nothing, and punched him, dragging him down to the ground.
'Guardian!', all the kids suddenly cried, rushing out of the tipped over closet and surrounding The Guardian, who smiled almost sheepishly. 'Please, it's… It's nothing.', she said, and she meant it. 'It's the least I can do for these people.', she thought, eyes closed.
'It was SO cool how you figured where he was!', one of the older boys said, nodding his head.
'Yeah! And the way you sprayed that woman, and used her cards against her!', the pigtail girl squealed, bouncing up and down.
'Are you okay?', Roscoe asked, concerned. He saw her cuts, her fatigue. He offered Colonel Rabbit.
Guardian couldn't hide her gratitude. 'Thanks, pal. I could use a hug, I… I don't know if I can do anymore. Next bullet is gonna kill my next mini golf game.', she joked. 'I was totally gonna only lose by a billion points this time!'
The kids laughed, and Guardian never felt happier to be hurt in battle.
Griffin looked at her like she did before, not knowing what to say. All she could think about were all those children, safe from that monster…
All thanks to The Guardian.
She WANTED to say something. She opened her mouth, hand outreaching, when…
'I'm not going down without a fight! This was supposed to be different! I'll make sure at least one of them remembers!', 'Blackstone' suddenly shouted, a mad gleam in his eyes. He took out the wand and shot out a bullet, flying right at Savannah.
'NO!', Guardian screamed, immediately stepping in front of the kids, who were also screaming. Without a moment's hesitation, she braced herself, covering all of them with her long arms.
'NO!', Griffin cried, stepping in front of The Guardian, instinctual, as if her true self burst through the shackles of her tombed soul.
The bullet came closer, closer, a whistle sounding… Yet, there was another strange whistle. What could it…
SMASH!
TINK!
The two heroes opened their eyes and saw a jaw dropping sight.
Before them, with shiny purple armour, akin to a centurion in Ancient Rome, there stood a giant robot, almost looking like a mech from an anime.
'SITUATION DEESCALATED. SUSPECT ABOUT TO BE DETAINED.'
Suddenly, an army of cops showed up out of nowhere, all holding guns to the three kidnappers. 'HANDS UP! DON'T MOVE!'
Guardian and Griffin watched in frozen surprise as 'Blackstone', 'Glamour' and 'Illusion' all got handcuffed, the robot now at rest.
'What… How…', the two asked at the same time, only for an answer to arrive in the shape of…
'Tetherby?', Griffin asked, surprised to see the rich man she had met earlier that day, tipping his hat at her and Guardian. Guardian recognized him as the man who had helped her yesterday. 'No idea he was related to that jerk Tetherby.', she thought.
'I did say I wanted to give you some control over the chaos.', he reminded her with a smile. He patted the robot. 'Thank god it found you. I wasn't getting much… Help, to say the least.', he nodded at the cops, taking all the credit now.
'Tell me something I don't know.' Griffin smirked a teeny bit. Guardian didn't really care. She was just happy the kids were safe.
'Now, let's get you all outta here, huh?', Bertrand winked.
(All's Well That Ends Farewell - Michael Giacchino, The Batman)
They stood there, The Guardian and Captain Griffin, looking out at the misty, rainy, cloudy sky.
The kids were safe, sound, and reunited with their parents. The bad guys were being taken away. The city, for now, had been given a real moment of peace.
'The Guardian… The Guardian…', the magician whispered over and over, looking at her with true wonder.
'A worthy opponent… After all these years…'
He grinned evilly.
'We'll see if she can handle… 'Hocus Pocus'... The next show.', he leaned back in the police truck, his hands were cuffed, but his spirit was free. He finally had a name, a place, a reason to live.
So with that done, there was nothing left.
Right?
'So now what?', Guardian asked, turning around to Griffin, who held out her gun, but to the side. Her eyes were shifting, her voice unsteady. She had waited for this the entire time. She could do it right here, right now.
'...Why can't I? I don't understand… I…', she felt herself begin to slowly cry, and she took the vigilante's hand, but softly. Peacefully.
'...Don't you see? I tried to do the same thing. It only made things worse. You can't fight evil. Not really. It always rises up. You'll… You'll die. Like I have.', Griffin pleaded, truly sad for Guardian. 'I… I don't understand. I see it too, you know? The guilt. We may not agree on much, but we are the same that way. Our eyes look forwards, but they're colored with the blood of the past.'
She pierced into her soul. 'Why? How? Please… At least tell me.'
The Guardian looked down for a moment. She thought, long and hard. She thought of every single mistake she had made, and every single soul she had saved.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, with a sort of peace, even if it was a peace still handicapped with all her flaws. But it was beautiful, despite it.
'...In some ways, I don't know. I… I had a bad dream. In that dream, I was good. I was flawed, sure, but… I was good. I was good enough, and I didn't have to fix anything. People were benefiting from my existence.'
Guardian looked down, tears joining the puddles of the cobblestone street. 'But then… Then I woke up. With a person I love hurt… Because I was ignorant. Yes, I didn't mean to. I know that. But he was still hurt. And I… I could have stopped it.'
She let out a sob, her chest shaking.
'...I saw that day, what I was capable of. The selfishness, the blindness, the rage. I could hurt so much. Yet, I have these powers. Me, of all people. I'm not good enough, I know that. Maybe one day… But regardless. I can't fix what I did. But I can try and do better, make sure no one else, NO ONE ELSE, ever gets hurt by people who make the decisions I once made, or worse.'
She reached in her backpack then, grabbing her real hoodie and her cape. Griffin gave her the respect to not look.
Back turned, she continued. '...I know I'm broken. I know. But what matters isn't me, but those kids. They're safe, alive. If I try, yeah, I could fail. But it's better than not trying at all, and maybe dooming those who need me. Us.'
She turned around, full costume on. The blue 'G' like a renewed beacon in the misty sky, the cape flowing in the wind, stretching out to an entire city that needed it. The Guardian took a deep breath, and strengthened her resolve.
She stared Griffin right in the eyes.
'...You asked me why and how. I don't know, but… I also do. And it's simple… But it's true. At least… It's my truth. The truth I want to reach. I might fail. I might. But…'
The Guardian's face was serious and genuine, meaning every syllable.
'I can help.'
She then offered the smallest smile
'So I do.'
And despite all her self hate, her guilt, her doubts and fears…
She held on.
Griffin was silent for a long minute.
Then, they both heard a voice cry out. A little girl.
'My cat! He's stuck in a tree! Someone please help!'
Guardian stared at Griffin. Griffin stared back.
'Funny. I was never really fast. You heard some girl, and flew off so quickly, I… I just about missed you.', Griffin said, looking away.
The Guardian said nothing, but she nodded with a grateful smile, and flew off.
As Griffin looked back, still conflicted, she saw the hero fly through the sky, the clouds parting just a crack.
'...Hmm.'
'Hey, there, Captain!', Bertrand suddenly called, making her jump.
'Oh, it's you. Hey, how did it go?'
'Oh, fine, fine. I see that you managed to do something, eh?', he said with a friendly nudge.
'Heh, yeah, I guess…', Griffin muttered, still looking at the sky.
Bertrand coughed, getting her attention. 'So… I was thinking about what you said earlier. And I agree. This city needs warriors willing to fight for it. These cops… They don't care. Not like me, not like you. You need to get back to getting things done.'
Griffin was legitimately surprised. 'Really?'
'Yes, really!', Bertrand exclaimed, and he offered her an official arrest warrant. 'Now you can start cleaning this city from chaos by heading a taskforce to stop one of the results of it: The Guardian!'
Griffin froze, then looked down, lost.
'I…'
'...I don't know what to say.'
'We're not mad…', Rita Loud was quick to assure.
'Just worried!', Lynn Loud Sr. added quickly, a little panickingly.
'I'm sorry I skipped school, really.', Lori apologised. She hated making her parents upset, especially these days.
'We understand that part, you've been through a lot. But you should at least tell us. We'd understand!', Rita said with a pat on Lori's head, but Lori knew that wasn't an option. Stil, she nodded.
'Please, think about it next time.', Rita gently asked, and Lori nodded again. 'I… I will.'
'Also, if we're already talking, Lisa's been acting real weird. And your school just so happens to be going on a science field trip tomorrow. Ya think maybe we can take two problems at a time?', Lynn Sr. offered, and Lori was a lot more enthusiastic at that. She felt bad for not dealing with Lisa yet. This was a chance.
'Sure thing, Mom and Dad. I… I'll do what I can.', she smiled, feeling her costume on even now.
'Maybe one day… Maybe one day.', she thought, wounded, but still standing tall for the people of Royal Woods.
POST CREDITS SCENE:
Renaud Bailee looked at their home, heard the cries of their baby. They wanted to step inside…
But felt rooted to the spot.
'Oh, Renaud… If you could only make your fucking mind up.', they whispered, thinking back to their convo with The Guardian. They saw her on the news earlier. She took their advice to heart, it seemed.
Now if they could just do that too.
Suddenly, footsteps could be heard. Renaud turned in a flash, gun out and ready.
'Hey, Renaud.'
The words were strangely calm and full of humanity. They had heard him speak in many tones. He was a man of many faces, after all.
Still, they couldn't help but wonder if this was a sacrificial hero, or a self destructive villain?
They would have to hear him out anyway.
He still WAS their best friend.
Bertrand Thetherby, 'The Raven', tipped their hat, and smiled with real affection, and sorrow.
'I know we left things off badly, but… We need to talk.'
He took a deep breath, and added:
'...Old friend…'
Next time, A science expo gone wrong, another new villain, and we finally get some answers about The Raven!
