My name is Gwendolyn Stacy, but you can call me Gwen. I'm a writer at the Daily Bugle. But you already know that, so let me tell you what's new. It's been two weeks since those photos of the guy with the sword appeared on the sightings forum, and since then, he's been much more active. He's been consistently seen in Queens but also in Manhattan. And he debuted a new costume—much more interesting than that all-black one. It now has several red details and even a logo, which I can't quite identify (maybe a bat or a dragon), but it's super cool. He also wears a white hooded jacket that contrasts with the rest of the outfit, creating a modern look that reflects a streetwear/techwear trend seen in other current heroes like Blade (for more details, check out the article "Streetwear in the Look of Contemporary Superheroes" on my blog).

I see a lot of potential in this new guy (we still don't know his name), and that's why I've been pushing Jameson to assign me as his correspondent. Here at the Bugle, some reporters and writers are assigned to cover specific heroes and villains to make sure we don't miss anything. We have a big reputation to uphold. Instead, Jameson has left the articles to his idiot son, John III. The kid is only 19, knows nothing about life except doing what daddy says, and he's only here because he was rejected by the army and had nothing else to do.

Because of him—and Jameson—I came to the Bugle's office today on my day off. I got off the elevator furious and rushed to Jameson's office.

"Good morning, Gwen. What…" Jameson's secretary tried to speak when she saw me arriving.

"Sorry, Mandy. No time now."

Conveniently, when I burst into the office, both Jamesons were already there—the almost bald father and the son with that ridiculous mullet.

"What the hell is this, Stacy!? If you break that door, you're paying for it!"

"No, what the hell is THIS, Jameson?" I nearly hit him in the face with the day's newspaper. There was a photo of the new guy on the front page next to a police car cut in half and a woman crying while holding a baby in the background. The headline read: New Threat in the City: Barbaric Vigilante Clashes with Police and Endangers Citizens.

"I know you're not fans of superheroes, but this is pure nonsense. I saw him that day, the car had been stolen and almost ran over a mother and her baby. How can you call him barbaric?"

"Come on, Gwen. This guy has a sword. The other day, he cut off a guy's hand in front of everyone. You can't call someone that violent a hero," John said with his annoying little rat voice.

"Yeah, the hand that was holding a rifle pointed at a bunch of hostages."

"You don't make news just by pleasing people, Stacy. We have to open the public's eyes to the threats in the city," Jameson shouted as always, spitting everywhere.

"You don't make news with lies, Jameson," I yelled back.

"Fair point. You make it with information." John butted in. "And we have nothing on this guy besides what we've seen: violence and recklessness."

"Shut up. This conversation hasn't reached the daycare yet." That was my response. "If you want information, I can get it. I'm way more qualified than this kid." I said to Jameson.

"Don't call me a ki—"

"Quiet, John!" Daddy's order quickly made him shut up. "Then prove it, Miss Stacy. Bring real, exclusive information, and I'll let you cover this guy."

"We have a deal, Jameson." I confirmed confidently.

...

Maybe this plan wasn't so smart after all. It's not like I had an easy way to contact the new hero. I could only count on the luck of running into him in the middle of some dangerous mess.

I tried texting Benio; talking to him always helps me organize my thoughts, but he wasn't even seeing my messages. That's been happening a lot lately, which is weird since he used to reply quickly. Maybe he has a new girlfriend...?

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The scream snapped me back to reality. I was so distracted thinking about Benio that I almost got hit by something I first thought was a wrecking ball—but it was actually a very large rhinoceros-man. He came flying as I was turning the corner—or rather, was thrown. Rolling like a ball, he tore up the asphalt until he stopped in a crater, like a meteor.

Looking the other way, I saw an overturned armored truck in the middle of the street, with a huge hole in its side. Running from that direction was our new hooded swordsman. Sometimes my luck is unbelievable—or maybe the writer of my life is just lazy, who knows? By the way, I could swear he looked right at me as he ran past.

The rhino guy got up surprisingly fast. Unfortunately for him, the money bag he was holding ripped, scattering cash all over the street. Of course, people didn't waste time grabbing the money. It's not like the police could catch everyone.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!" Rhino roared.

"Watch your mouth, big guy. No one ever told you to be careful when withdrawing cash? There are a lot of crooks out there waiting to rob you."

The hooded guy's mockery only seemed to make Rhino even angrier—if that was possible. The criminal started stomping violently, causing a tremor that knocked down people nearby and the hooded hero.

"Hey, hey! No need to throw a tantrum. Daddy's taking you back to the zoo."

From what I've seen so far, his jokes could use some work, but at least he keeps up the sarcastic tone. Attitude is essential for a hero.

The hooded guy jumped with full force, creating a shockwave that knocked me onto my butt. I was running after them with my camera to record everything. Mid-air, he raised his hand, and from it emerged a black mass that turned into a sword. In response, Rhino grabbed the ground with both hands, ripping out a huge chunk of asphalt and throwing it at him. The boulder was sliced in half with ease, and as the halves flew to the sides, black tendrils sprouted from the hero's back, grabbing both pieces and smashing the villain with them.

"Your temper is terrible, huh? I should probably get a rabies shot after this."

"Can you just fight without running your mouth?" Rhino growled, crawling out from under the rubble.

"If you were stronger, I wouldn't need to distract myself."

"Stop mocking me!"

The angrier Rhino got, the more he lost control and started acting like a real animal. At this point, he began charging on all fours like an actual rhinoceros. The problem was that he couldn't see ahead and didn't notice when the hooded guy clapped his hands together, forming a black shield. Rhino smashed into it headfirst, causing a massive boom—and knocking himself out cold.

The police were already on their tail and quickly arrived to take Rhino away. They tried to stop the hooded guy too—probably wanted a statement or maybe even to arrest him. You know how the cops are. I took the chance to get closer.

"Excuse me! I work for the Daily Bugle, my name is Gwen Stacy. Can I get an interview, please? What's your name?" I shouted, trying to push past the officers, arm stretched out with my recorder. It was useless—he looked at me but used the distraction to slip away from the cops.

I thought my luck had run out for the day and decided to head home. But I was in for a surprise.

"Hey, Gwen Stacy from the Daily Bugle."

I heard a voice call me as I passed by an alley. Looking up, I saw the hooded guy staring at me. He was standing on a fire escape.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, didn't you ask for an interview?"

Hearing that, I smiled and pulled my recorder from my backpack again.

"I'd prefer to do this somewhere that doesn't smell like trash, but this will do."

"Not a problem."

His arm turned into a black mass and grabbed me by the waist. He jumped, taking us both to the top of the building.

"Aaaaaah!" I screamed, surprised as we landed and I stood frozen. "NEVER do that again."

"My bad," he replied, chuckling.

Once I recovered, I noticed the view from up here was beautiful. The sun was setting, casting an enchanting orange glow over the city. The hooded guy sat on the ledge, watching me. So I sat beside him.

"To start, what should I call you?"

"Well, according to your paper, we're a barbarian, right?"

"That was my editor's idea. He doesn't like you," I sighed. "Sorry about that."

"Doesn't bother me. You know who the original barbarians were?"

"Actually, I do. A friend told me once. The Romans called any different cultures barbarians, right?"

"Exactly, your friend must be pretty smart." The way he said that was odd—not ironic or sarcastic, but kind of amused. "Even though they were called barbarians, they were civilized and had rich cultures. Ironic, isn't it? Doesn't sound so bad."

"So that's going to be your name? Barbarian?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"Not exactly. We chose Barbarity."

"Not bad," I replied, jotting it down. "By the way, what do you mean by 'we'? Are you non-binary? Have multiple personalities? What?"

"We are literally two. A human and an alien, in perfect symbiosis."

"Alien? Like Superman?"

"More like Blue Beetle."

"So, you're a comic book fan."

"Are you writing that down too?"

"It's very relevant information," I said, dead serious. "So, how do you define yourself? Superhero? Vigilante? Anti-hero?"

"I know my methods aren't everyone's favorite. I'm not a clean-cut hero, but I want to be a real hero. We both do."

"About your suit, what's that symbol on your chest?"

"Ah, I don't really know. Looks like some kind of alien dragon. It chose it."

"So all hero decisions go through both of you?"

"Not exactly. We are two who are one. Every decision is ours."

We kept talking for another thirty minutes, filling in the article with simpler questions.

"I think I have everything I need. Thanks for your time."

"Thank you. Hope it helps my reputation."

"Promise to talk only to me, and I'll make you the city's most popular hero."

"Think you can handle that?" he chuckled. "Deal. From now on, you're my reporter, Miss Gwen Stacy."

"Count on me, Barbarity. I'll make everyone love New York's lethal protector."