Captain Uni

Vanguard: Calder City

---

^{SANDRA’S DINER IN THE STRIP.
NOW.}

“Need any cream or sugar?” the waitress asks, setting the cup of steaming hot coffee in front of me.

I nod, ”Yeah, one cream and three sugar, please.”

She pulls away to grab the cream and sugar and my eyes gaze over the diner, taking in the retro aesthetic with the cherry red leather booths towards the entrance and a jukebox in the corner playing some slow jazz. The waitress plops a creamer and a few packets of sugar in front of me and I get to work on mixing them into my coffee, taking a sip once I’m done. It scalds my tongue and burns my throat as it goes down, making me grimace and let out a slow sigh.

“Rough night, hun?” the waitress asks, leaning her elbows against the counter and cupping her jaw with her hands. I shrug, looking over to my helmet sitting in the seat next to me. The cracked visor has been patched up with a bit of masking tape, but it’s a temporary fix. I’ll have to replace the whole thing at some point, hopefully with something more properly heroic. It’ll work still, for now at least.

”Yeah. You know how it is down in the Docks, just getting your ass kicked for looking at the wrong guy,” I lie, though it’s at least half of a truth. I did get my ass kicked. She doesn’t need to know it was by a guy who was my sort of childhood friend.

She nods. “I get ya. My boyfriend got jumped headin’ here to visit me one night last year, buncha guys beat the shit out of him because he was on ‘their turf’ or somethin’ stupid like that. Broke his leg with a crowbar. He was in the hospital for three weeks, then in crutches for two months after that. He’s still limpin’.”

”Shit, I’m sorry,” I say.

The waitress waves a hand to pass it off. “It’s alright. Not like you were one of the assholes who did it.” She looks over at the window into the kitchen, then back to me. “You want somethin’ to eat?”

I shake my head. ”No, I’m probably gonna be leaving after I finish this cup.”

“Take your time, hun,” she says before turning away. She grabs a rag and steps out from behind the counter, heading over to the booths to wipe them down.

I look down into my cup of coffee, slightly cooled now after being neglected during the conversation. Don’t even know why I got coffee when I’m probably going to head straight home and crash after this. ”Fuck it,” I mutter before raising the cup to my lips. I don’t even get to take a sip before the bell above the door chimes and a man walks in. The waitress moves quickly, getting back behind the counter and heading straight for the coffee pot.

The man's expression carries a weight that his shoulders don’t convey, his steps dragging slightly on the tiled floor. Without even a word he nods to the woman behind the counter. It's gonna be a close call between what arrives at the seat first, the coffee or the newcomer. As he flips his jacket off I spy a shoulder holster carrying a revolver and my shoulders tense, only for the man to fold the jacket nicely and place it onto a seat as he takes his own. “Thanks Cass, just the usual please.”

“I just cleaned the damn grill, Dusk,” the cook shouts, his head poking out from the window into the kitchen. Even still, he has a grin on his face.

”And that's why I’m asking, Phil,” the man, Dusk apparently, says with a wry smirk that doesn’t make it all the way to his eyes.

“You’re a Goddamn nuisance,” the cook says to the man before pointing a spatula at me. “Don’t you be getting any ideas, kid.”

I raise my hands defensively. ”No, no, I’m good.”

Phil grumbles before I hear the sound of bacon sizzling on the grill.

”You sure? It looks like you need it,” Dusk says, looking at me.

“He’s been down the Docks, you know what it can be like down there,” the waitress, Cass apparently, chimes in as she sets the coffee down in front of Dusk.

Dusk raises an eyebrow. “Oh? You alright?”

I wave him off. ”I live down there, so I’m used to it.”

He nods along. ”Seen my fair share of cases down there. Can be rough, a lot going on at the moment, keep your wits about you.”

Cases? Is he a detective? That catches my attention. I shift my posture a bit straighter, setting my full attention on Dusk. How the hell do I ask this without seeming too eager? ”Yeah? Anything specific?”

”Nothing that isn’t in the news,” Dusk brushes me off, though he tilts his head a bit in my direction as if to get a better look at me.

Damn, there goes any shot at getting some insider dirt. I try to think of what he could be talking about, there’s so much crap that goes on in the Docks, at least the parts that haven’t been taken over by land developers and hipsters. Too much to keep track of, really. God, I’m a terrible superhero, can’t even keep track of what’s going on in the part of the city I live in.

”Fair enough. Guess a cop shouldn’t really be giving details out to a civilian anyway.”

”Oh. I’m not a cop, not anymore.” He reaches over to his jacket and pulls something out of the pocket, placing it against the counter before sliding it down to me. A business card.

I pick it up and look it over. Dusk Investigations. After taking it in, I set the card back down on the counter. ”... Really? I-Vestigate at gmail dot com?”

Dusk chuckles and gives a sly grin. ”It’s what I do.”

I smirk. ”No, it’s the gmail address. You really couldn’t swing getting your own domain?”

”By the time I had the office, the licenses, and the wardrobe, I didn’t have the cash.”

”The wardrobe? Goth private eye wasn’t already your usual?”

”You’d be surprised.” He looks me up and down. ”You still saving up for the bike?”

Shit. ”Uh, yeah. Had one but um, the engine died. Haven’t replaced it yet.”

“Did the engine die before or after you went over the handlebars?” He points to the helmet which I almost forgot was there, the visor still cracked with the masking tape covering the single hole in it.

Shit! ”It was… Before. And I got jumped tonight. That’s why I’m, uh… Like this.”

”Huh. Interesting choice to wear the helmet without the bike.” I freeze when he says that. Thankfully, the tension is broken by another bell chiming, this time coming from the kitchen window.

“Bacon cheeseburger and fries on the pass,” Phil says, shooting a dirty look at Dusk as he sets a plate and a basket of fries on the window. Cass takes the food and sets it in front of Dusk. My stomach growls as I see the clogged artery on a plate that’s been prepared. Pretty sure everyone heard that.

Dusk pours some of the fries on his plate then slides the basket over to me. ”Help yourself,” he says.

I look down at the fries and thank God for the hospitality of strangers. ”Thanks.” I take a few fries and toss them into my mouth, savoring the saltiness. Damn, I really needed this.

Dusk picks up his burger and takes a bite. There’s a moment of silence as we both eat before he breaks it. ”So… Who are these delinquents that jumped you?” he asks around a mouthful of burger.

”Oh. Um. Just some guys. Thugs. I dunno, some wannabe street gang or something.” It would be believable if I wasn’t stuttering like an idiot.

”I see. Use that to get away, did you?” He gestures to my side and I look down to see that I still have the grappling hook on my belt. ”That thing’s an antique.”

Fuck. ”Um. I, uh. No. I mean yes. Yeah, for sure.”

”A bit of advice?”

”Yeah?”

”If you’re going to do… this.” He gestures to my entire outfit. ”Learn to lie better.”

“Yeah, no, didn’t fool me either,” Cass chimes in as she continues wiping down a booth.

I sigh, scratching the back of my head in embarrassment. ”Yeah, probably should learn to do that…”

”Hey if you want to be public, then that’s fine. Plenty of public heroes. Queen of Blades, Mountain, the Rallis-Reynolds family. I could name a dozen more.”

The mention of my mother makes me freeze. I recover after a moment and speak up, my voice low and steadier than it was throughout most of the conversation. ”Doesn’t help considering a lot of them are dead. Two of the ones you named, even.”

”No, that is certainly a consideration.” He taps the card, still left on the counter. ”I’m currently working on a case about missing Grays. You let me know if you hear anything.”

I look back at the card, then pick it up and slip into my pocket. ”Alright. Can do.”

“So uh, what can you do?”

I smirk a bit at the question, then hold my hand out to the side. My blade manifests in my grip, glowing a brilliant blue that lights up the space.

Dusk's eyes widen slightly. ”Wait, Scott?”

”Actually, it's-”

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

^{Written in collaboration with @Sep.}

Vanguard: Calder City

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{THE DOCKS.
NOW.}

Night again. I’m sitting on the ledge of an apartment building looking down on the streets, my police scanner tuned to what I’m pretty sure is the right frequency for the Docks. It’s been about ten minutes and nothing yet, or at least nothing I can get to in a reasonable amount of time. I sigh, feeling the seconds tick by as if they’re hours.

As my mind wanders, I recall my encounter last night… Or I guess this morning, saving Marth from his ex. That was my first time fighting another Gray and thinking back on it, I’m surprised at how well it went. I acted professionally, took out the threat quickly and efficiently, then escorted Marth to the school with no incident. I raise a hand to the back of my neck, rubbing the tender bruise where Bruno struck me. That was the one slip up. Shouldn’t have summoned a new sword so soon after dispelling the old one either, I was running on fumes the rest of that fight.

Still, all things considered, I’m doing pretty good at this whole superhero thing. Sure, it’s all small time stuff so far, but I’m working my way up. I think I might have a shot at the big leagues in the fut-

I hear a loud bang down below, not a gunshot but something else. My head pivots to look to the source of the sound, seeing a hooded figure yanking a busted lock out of a rolling shutter. Shit, someone’s breaking into Wireless Hut? I better step in, can’t let Mr. Phone’s store get ransacked.

… Yes, that’s his real, birth name. At least he says it is. I got my phone repaired there a few times.

Damn, think straight Scott, you gotta step in. I climb down the fire escape and leap down into the alley, turning the corner to head into the store. As I step inside I almost lose the hooded guy between the shelves of retro tech, cardboard boxes full of wires and standees from bygone stores. But I can see the hooded guy is already behind the counter, facing the wall. I summon my sword silently, making sure it’s blunt, then rear my hand back to throw it.

Time to shine.

“Mind if I cut in?” I say, and throw my dulled sword. Hoodie tilts his head and dodges it by a fraction, the blade sailing past him and slamming against the big old Tecsun FM unit, crumpling its plastic frame. Hoodie looks at the sword for a beat as it slips off and clatters to the ground, before turning around and cracking his knuckles.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I have to stop throwing them like that. Suddenly, something in the radio connects and the store’s speakers spark to life.

“Thiiiiis is 99.9, Calder County Classic Rock! Bringing you the Godfather of Punk himself, Iggy Pop!”

Music fills my ears and Hoodie gestures for me to come at him. I can tell from the way he’s standing this isn’t his first fight. I need to get past him and grab my sword, summoning another one would wipe me out. But I have a couple inches on him, and I’m decked out in thick biker leather. I can probably truck right through him.

I run forward and Hoodie pops up on the counter. I go to juke him but he kicks me hard in the chest and I crash into a row of shelves, a box of flip phones tumbling off and slamming into the back of my neck. My bruise throbs and I hiss in pain, lifting my head just in time to see a fist slam into my gut.

I don’t even have time to throw a punch back. By the time I even lift a hand, he’s thrown too many punches for me to count, and I can’t even throw a punch back because my fist is batted away like a fly. This time a fist crashes into the visor of my helmet, shattering it and sending a shard of glass digging into my cheek.

I can’t do this. I need the sword. I need to get to the sword. Please, god, please, just let me-

I don’t even feel the sword dissipating and reappearing. One second it was behind the counter, the next it’s in my hand. As Hoodie throws another fist into my chest, I slam the dulled blade into his side and he grunts, pulling back and putting his guard up. I sidestep away from the shelf and put some distance between us, keeping my sword at the ready.

He grabs a spinner rack of key chains off the counter and throws it at me in one smooth motion. There’s maybe an instant for me to react but I manage to do so just in time, swinging my sword at the display and batting it aside. In that split second he’s already on me again, his fists seeming to fly at me even faster now.

His strikes are coming so quickly that I can’t block them all. He throws a right and I hold up the flat of my sword to counter it, but it’s a feint. I see the real strike coming and --

I’m on the ground, ears ringing. I see the lights coming through the chipping visor in my helmet. Did he knock me out? For how long? I realize the song has only skipped a half second. My eyes open in time to see him holding his leg up at an impossible angle, almost above his head, ready to crack my skull open like an egg. I roll out of the way and try not to fill my helmet with vomit.

I realize I have to turn this around right now or I could die, right here, on the linoleum tile of the damn Wireless Hut next to the bootleg DVDs. Hoodie raises his leg for another stomp and I know he won’t let me dodge again.

I bring my sword up from the tile and catch him in the thigh. He shouts and stumbles off his balance. I try to trip him up but he bounces backwards and throws up his guard again, giving me the space I need to push back up, supporting myself with the tip of my blade against the ground.

He doesn’t jump back on me right away, just stands there bobbing on the balls of his feet. He probably doesn’t want to get hit by the sword again. Considering what he just did to me, I’m hoping it hurt pretty fucking bad. Maybe I can end this.

“Still got enough in you for another round? Because I do!” I swing my sword forward in a killer arc, if it was any sharper it’d take Hoodie’s head clean off. But he doesn’t dodge, he throws himself closer, inside the reach of the blade and catches it close to the handle.

My breath catches in my throat and we struggle over it, but he already has the better position. He presses the crossguard into my hand and I feel the force travel up my arm, twisting my shoulder back so far I swear it's about to pop out. I drop to my knees and the sword drops out of my grip as my hand goes numb. I’m finished.

I look up at the guy who’s about to put an end to my superheroic career, holding my sword blade-first over my head like a guillotine, and see that his hood fell back in the scuffle. I realize I recognize him. He looks a lot older than the last time I saw him, and a lot different under the Wireless Hut’s cheap fluorescent lightning compared to the scattered sunlight of the Vanguard family cookouts.

“Wait, wait!” I hold up my hands. “Rock! It’s me! Scott! Scott Knight!”

Rock holds firm in his stance. “I know. You done?” He knows!?

“Y-yes?” I keep my hands up, bracing for the next hit.

Rock drops the sword and turns, heading deeper into the store, past rows of mouldering consoles and ancient adapters. I work to get to my feet, struggling past the stabbing pain in my chest and the ringing in my head. Do I feel a broken rib? How many are broken? Am I concussed?

“You-you knew?” I ask, stumbling after him.

“Once I saw the sword,” Rock says.

“And you still…?”

Rock meets my eyes through the crack in my visor. “Someone wants a fight? I give them a fight.” He sticks his hand into the edge of a wall tile and works to pull it off. “You’re not cut out for this shit, Scott. Quit while you’re ahead. Or you’ll end up dead.”

I can’t even argue with that. I got my shit rocked, pun intended. Bodega burglars and stalker exes are one thing, but Rock is on a whole other level. I’m just lucky it was him and not someone who actually would have killed me… And then it hits me what he might mean, thinking back on the Mountain’s statue in Memorial Park that was just unveiled yesterday: maybe he doesn’t want to see any more people he knows dead.

He drops the tile and it cracks against the ground. There’s a panel underneath, a dark blue screen crisscrossed with glowing lines, like some spy movie gadget. Rock puts his palm against it and it hums for a moment, sending a light up and down his prints. Then it flashes red and beeps angrily.

“Ugh,” Rock groans, “must have aged out of the biometrics. Hand’s too big.” He slides the panel up to reveal an old fashioned keypad. He punches in the pin too fast for me to even make out what keys he pressed.

The music cuts out. “Welcome, MOUNTAIN,” a flat robotic voice announces.

“Why is this in Mr. Phone’s store?” I ask as a wall mounted display of CRT monitors slides up and away, disappearing into the ceiling. I see there’s a cavity in the wall, shelves and pegboards chock full of superhero gear. It’s a treasure trove, all the stuff I would have seen The Mountain using on TV and more.

“Saw kept spots like this one all over the city,” Rock said, “some were for general Vanguard use, but this one was Saw’s. Phone is his cousin.”

Okay, I have to ask. “... Is Mr. Phone really his name?”

Rock doesn’t dignify the question with a response. I just stare at him as he swipes a dull metal utility belt off the shelf and checks its compartments. He goes to put it around his waist, but it doesn’t wrap all the way around him. I realize it must be the same one he used as a kid, left to collect dust for all these years. Instead he throws it over his back like a bandolier and clicks it shut around the crook of his shoulder.

“You’re still here?” Rock looks back at me.

“I’m not quitting this…” I say. “I… Can’t.”

“Your funeral,” Rock says, with the gravity of someone who has just come from one.

“I realize that,” I say. “This isn’t a life that ends peacefully. I’m ready to die for something… Good.”

Rock shakes his head. “You sound like him. Idealistic idiot.” He reaches into the compartment and pulls out something dark with a shiny tip. He shoves it into my hands.

“Is this a…?” I start.

“Grappling hook,” Rock confirms. “You might need to replace the gas canister, but it should still work.” He thumped the panel with his fist twice and the CRT display began to descend back into place.

“I- Thanks,” I say, looking the device over before clipping it onto my belt.

Rock steps past me and makes for the door. “Just stay in your lane, kid.” He looks back and I see something haunted in his eyes, “there are monsters out there.”

The store’s bell chimes as he steps out into the night.

I wonder for a moment who would replace Mr. Phone’s lock before realizing it would probably be me. A moment after I can’t hear Rock’s footsteps outside, I head out of the store myself.

^{Written in collaboration with @DocTachyon.}

Author’s Notes

Doc - By the power of God Emperor Captain Unicycle, this is the fastest a Doc post has ever come together! He was a joy to work with again. I think the last time we did one of these was way back in UOU.
Uni - The olden days with Chow Yun Castle and Vigilante Ghost Rider. We had no plans but by god did we have a dream.

Doc - Over the course of production we somehow established Rock’s favorite childhood movie was Kung Fu Panda.
Uni - He was mad when he saw Kung Fu Panda 2 and Tai Lung wasn’t in it.

Doc - Not super sure what the extent of Mountain’s gadgetry is, probably a much lesser version of Batman’s kit. No Shark-Repellant Mountain Spray here.

Uni - We decided it’d be smart to have Scott begin to progress his powers a bit in this post (finally tapping into his telekinesis to bring the sword back to himself) as well as giving him a bit of another level up through Rock giving him the grappling hook. No more climbing up and down fire escapes for this guy.

Vanguard: Calder City

Going back to the edgy conversation, assuming I'm able to stay consistent enough to be granted a second character my idea for sure leans toward the edgier side of things considering the whole premise revolves around hunting monsters and demons while having family ties on the dark side (going 2 for 2 on characters with parental issues). Definitely keep hearing Animal I Have Become in my head everytime I think about the character.

Vanguard: Calder City

This still taking? I might have settled on a character.

@IAmTheIsland

Melissa put a hard deadline of June 7th for new sheets. Not a GM, but I figure that means new characters are being accepted until then.

Vanguard: Calder City

Figured I'd go through the posts again and share my favorite lines from them. It quickly ended up becoming my favorite paragraphs lol.

Ralph Junior had thrown up on himself, Joey disguised a burp of indigestion, and Eve felt through the threads of Calder City that at least three people had died since this dinner had started.

Eve #1

The perfect punctuation to this post. Showcases the horror of Eve's powers and puts an even darker spin on an already uncomfortable dinner with a family that holds a lot of skeletons in their closets.

Standing there in the doorway, she felt that familiar warmth in her chest, the quiet certainty that these two were the closest thing she had to a home.

Joanie #1

Love the emotion in this line, the love Joanie feels for her roommates and the other kids at St. Dymphna's is palpable here.

The feeling of The Pilgrim whispering danger through every available path. Not future sight. Not exactly. Just certainty. The crowbar would come high. The pipe above them would rupture when the crowbar caught it mid swing and the steam that resulted would cause the floor to become slick. He would have three possible exits. One safe. Two fatal.

Pilgrim #1

Such a sick ass look into how Bret processes the world with his ability. The punchy prose is right up my alley.

It did not shine like sunlight. It did not burst or flare. It seeped into the damaged concrete in thin molten threads, following every split and fracture with unsettling precision. The crack filled, hardened, and spread into a jagged seam that looked almost beautiful if nobody thought too hard about why it was there.

Orichalcum #1

Such a striking way to describe the effects of Richard's abilities, exactly what I was hoping for when I read the updated sheet.

Outside the Statesman, which had a screenshot from the viral ACL Music Festival incident, Dani recognized herself in none of the accompanying photos. She was allowed only a single set of earrings when in costume, her hair was professionally styled, and she always had that perfectly neutral “no-makeup” look which took twice as long anyway. Aurora was a product, not a person.

Aurora #1

Love the resentment that Dani feels for her heroic persona, the prepackaged corporate version of herself.

A bus groaned by on the street beyond. Someone laughed in the distance. Morning went on, indifferent and bright, while Marth stood with Bruno’s hand locked around his wrist and the faint scent of obsidian smoke at the back of his throat. For the first time in all the time they had known each other, Marth entered Bruno’s mind on purpose. Not deeply. Not cruelly. Only enough to place his voice where Bruno could not pretend the air had swallowed it.

Marth #1

The way the world around Marth just passes by while he's in this terrifying situation and the depths he has to stoop to in order to escape, just great stuff all around. Side note: reading Memoria's post made me feel almost too intimidated to even approach them for a crossover but I'm glad I did, had to stretch creative muscles I didn't even know I had trying to match their prose.

"I can confirm that Mirage, is my son William and that the hero known as Shutter is my daughter Matilda."

"Anyone else?"

"I have a second son, but he's long moved away under an assumed name and I shall respect his decision."

"I'm just surprised I got an honourable mention-"

Dusk #1

Pretty much the entire exchange with Albert talking to the TV during his dad's interview was hilarious but this was my favorite part of that.

Dive deep.

That's what my father had said.

We only get maybe a hundred years, on a planet that's had four and a half billion years, in a universe that's seen almost fourteen billion years.

Life flows into us and we flow into life. So we might as well dive deep.

Flowstate #1

Love seeing the philosophy that was instilled into Qing from his childhood be broken down to its barest elements.

He had been her first… Well her first everything. The first person she had trusted enough to let close. The first person who made her feel seen. The first person she had slept with. They’d grown up together in the home and had given everything to each other. Then he had left.

Memories flickered through her mind. Flashes of warmth. Flashes of skin on skin.

She shook away the thought. The guy was a dick. Plain and simple.

Joanie #2

Another insight into Joanie's emotions regarding a person she knows (or knew in this case), showcasing that her trust doesn't come easy. When it's broken, she tries to stay strong and move on, but still catches herself hung up on it sometimes.

The speech was long, but nobody complained. The murmurs were kept to a minimum, nobody disrespected the memories being mentioned. The heroics, the past saves. Karl spoke for about ten minutes, but then he was replaced by other heroes. Protegés, allies. Several reformed villains and criminals who testified to Saws kindness and patience in not just dumping them at jail, but then visiting them and personally helping them through their rehabilitation.

Dusk #2

Wonderful showcasing of the effect just one hero can have on so many lives in this world and how they're remembered after they meet their untimely ends.

All she needed was a moment to close her eyes and think. The memories would come. They always did, even if they weren't hers. But what was hers was a rather nebulous concept. This penthouse was hers. But it wasn't. She didn't remember drinking last night, but she did. She must have. There was a party, or something similar, but why? Who was there? She was. Was she?

Lucie #1

Most of y'all know I fuck with psychological shit, this was a great way to describe how it feels to be a hungover duplicate coming back to the realization they're one of many.

His hand shook as he raised it to knock on Cheryl's door. Should he knock? Archie hesitated. If he were summoned, shouldn't he just go in? He was already invited; what need was there to knock? He put his hand on the door handle, pushing down on it before panicking and taking a step back. Raising a loose fist, Archie meekly knocked on the frosted glass embossed with the 'Cheryl Lockhart, Senior Partner'.

Archie #1

Love this awkward ass loser. Love him.

---

You all better keep the heat coming, absolutely no misses at all so far.

Vanguard: Calder City

Hello folks!

Just returning from holi-bobs and going to take a look at the applications submitted while I was away with the other GMs. Stay tuned!

@Melissa

You took the other GMs on holi-bobs with you and left us here?

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

I brushed off the cobwebs two weeks ago, that’s why I’m confused

@GreenGrenade

No you were still pretty firmly entrenched in the cobwebs my man.

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

Don't mind me, just brushing off the cobwebs 🧹

Vanguard: Calder City

First blood.

I will give credit to @Colonel Sep for coming up with the concept of Memorial Park, though.

Vanguard: Calder City

A C E O F B L A D E S
A C E O F B L A D E S

---

^{MEMORIAL PARK.
THREE DAYS AGO.}

There's no word to describe how you might feel looking up at a statue of someone you knew, someone you loved, someone who died fifteen years ago but whose impact is still felt in the city she lived in. The sculptors put a lot of work into every detail, likely poring over every photograph of the Queen of Blades to make sure they got everything right. Most of the statues are placed in chronological order from the death of the hero each one represents, but the park's planners probably felt like it wouldn't be right to do anything but place hers next to Shining Shield's, even though their deaths were over a decade apart.

And then the word hits me, seeing the two of them standing side by side, the Queen beaming behind a half mask as Shield stands stalwartly beside her in full plate armor: I feel inferior. This is the legacy I come from, the legacy I don't think I'll ever be able to live up to. I'll never be half the hero either of them were.

I've been visiting Memorial Park to look at the statues since before my mom died. Stopped for a few years after she died, then made it a point to visit once a month after that, the only other gap being the time I left Calder to go to college. This is the first time I've been here since I moved back to Calder. When she was alive, mom would take me down here once a month, just me and her, and we'd sit on a bench looking at Shield's statue. She told me stories about him, how he was one of the bravest men she knew, how much passion he held for his work as a hero. He was my favorite hero throughout my childhood, the one I dressed up as every Halloween while my mom would wear her actual heroic attire, her secret identity long gone by that point. "My little Shield," she'd call me with a smile, and my dad would shake his head when he heard it and try to hide a sigh.

Dad never liked Shield. I only started to understand why later in life, doing research on my mom and her heroic partner, digging through archived news and magazine articles on the Wayback Machine. Back in the day, the tabloids and gossip rags would always go on about every small show of care between the Queen of Blades and Shining Shield, how every hand on a shoulder to steady the other during a battle or a celebratory hug after a job well done surely meant they were in love. They had to be, they had saved each other's lives so many times at that point. It just made sense.

While mom tried to maintain a secret identity early in her career, those things tend to be very tenuous, and eventually it was uncovered who she was and that she was dating a civilian who wasn't even a Gray. When that came out, the tabloids shifted to how my dad wasn't good enough for her, how she should be with someone in the same line of work, like Shield. After he died, it just got worse and worse, personal attacks against dad for being alive while Shield wasn't and against mom for letting her partner die and then continuing to date this man like nothing happened. It must have been terrible for both of them.

This is the life I'm trying to break into, the whirlwind of media exposure that won't let you get a moment of rest, the people you protect and save deciding to spit on you and the people you love. I look over the long line of monuments to dead heroes, thinking about how this is the life that every one of them lived, only for them all to be cut short. As a cape, you don't get to die peacefully in your bed surrounded by loved ones. You die in action. You die a hero.

Man, it's always so uplifting coming here.

I let out a sigh, shake my head, then turn away from the statues and begin the walk out of the park. The walkway at the end of the line of statues is cordoned off and diverted onto a temporary path, and I look over to find the cause is the construction of the latest addition, the statue of The Mountain. Shit, he died pretty recently, didn't he? I remember reading about it not even a week ago, scrolling on my phone in bed and trying not to think about how I'd have to be up in three more hours to get ready for my shift at the bar.

That dread of the day to come was forgotten as my heart sank reading the headline, memories of the man flooding in. He was always kind when I met him at galas and other social events held by Vanguard for heroes and their families, and he got along pretty well with my mother. His son Rock and I were friendly too, though we never met outside of those events and I haven't seen him and Saw since mom's funeral. I wonder for a moment how Rock must be taking Saw's death, then shake it off. The past is the past. I have to look to the future.

I slip on my headphones, hit play on my phone, and keep on walking.

---

_{A CONVENIENCE STORE IN THE DOCKS DISTRICT.
NOW.}

The sun is just starting to set, casting Calder City in an orange glow. I'm sitting on the second level of a fire escape in full costume, fiddling with the dials of the worn down police scanner I picked up at a pawn shop today. Probably should have looked up how to get this thing working, but I feel like I'm close.

I'm trying to pick up any voices obscured by the static when a voice sounds off about thirty feet ahead of me:

"ALL THE CASH IN THE REGISTER, RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

I look up and see a man stepping into a convenience store across the road, the glass door closing behind him. Alright, looks like I picked the right place to start my patrol. I climb down the fire escape, crossing the street and stepping up to the door to look inside. The gunman is waving his pistol around before setting his aim on the middle aged clerk. The clerk doesn't look too perturbed, like he's done this song and dance dozens if not hundreds of times at this point, simply popping open the register and calmly pulling cash out of it one stack at a time.

The door chimes as I step inside and the gunman turns on his heel to aim the pistol my way. He looks me up and down, looking irritated at the interruption. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?" he asks, sneering.

Instead of saying anything in response, I summon my sword and fling it at the gun, making sure to dull the blade so I don't slice his hand off. The spectral weapon flies true, knocking the pistol out of his hand. The gun goes off as it falls, the round flying into a rack of magazines, a cloud of shredded paper filling the store. My blade bumps into a wall then clatters to the ground before dissipating. Takes a lot out of me to summon a new one so soon after dispelling the last one, so I'm gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.

The burglar barely has time to blink in surprise before I'm on him, sending a wild punch into his nose that knocks him on his ass. He's still sitting instead of laying prone though, so I lift a leg and send a boot into his chest, sending him to the floor. He groans and wheezes in pain, clutching at his ribs, and I turn to the clerk. His weathered face is pulled into a deep scowl.

"What the hell is your problem?" he asks.

I blink behind the visor of my helmet. "... What?"

"I had it under control. This would've been a write off, now it's a whole fucking fiasco because you stepped in. Trashed my damn magazine rack, too."

Shit. "I was trying to help."

The clerk clicks his tongue, shaking his head in frustration. "Damn capes, you're all the same. Get the fuck out of here."

There's not much else to do than what he asks, so I leave the store. I can hear sirens fast approaching, so I take off sprinting into the alley across the road, heading as far as I can away from the store. That was the first time I stepped in to stop something bigger than a mugging in the street. I took that guy out quickly, efficiently, but that clerk really didn't appreciate it at all. I guess I can understand why, but it stings to get reprimanded for trying to help.

Guess this is my first experience with what I was thinking about the other day, how the people you're trying to help will disparage you at the same time. I'll have to get used to it.

When I can't hear sirens anymore, I duck into a quiet corner and pull out my police scanner again, trying to get it working. Got a long night ahead of me.