Day 214

[from Electron]

Electron landed neatly in Coolidge Avenue and started frantically searching for house number 156. Even though he knew there was no way the Iron Maiden could have gotten there before him, he still couldn't help panicking that he might be too late. His relief upon seeing the front door and windows still intact was immeasurable.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Electron headed up the cobbled driveway and pounded on the door. "Mr. Smith?" he called out. "This is Electron. Your life is in urgent danger. I need to speak with you right now."

When the door opened, it was not Andy Smith who answered, though nor - thankfully - was it the Iron Maiden. Instead it was a woman, presumably Andy's wife. She opened the door slowly, looking at Electron with a mixture of concern, confusion, and sorrow. "Is your husband home?" asked Electron.

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "No," she said. "When we heard about Kevin, he panicked, and said he needed to go into hiding. He said she'd be coming after him next. He didn't tell me where he went. It's true, isn't it?" she added. "That masked woman's going after him-"

"She will be," said Electron. "His friend Matt's already dead. I need to find him before she does. Do you have any idea where he could have gone to?"

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "N-no, I don't know," she said. "I… he could be anywhere-"

Electron persisted, keeping calm and composed despite the pressure. "Try to think of a place where your husband would feel safe," he said. "Can you think of anywhere like that?"

"Uhh…" Mrs. Smith thought for a moment, looking increasingly agitated, then snapped her fingers. "The old shooting range!" she exclaimed. "There's this… outdoor shooting range, to the north, outside of town. It closed down a couple of years ago, but my husband and his friends go up there every so often to let off a few rounds… the targets are still there, and my husband owns a gun, he probably took it with him… I think he's going to shoot her when she shows up-"

"Then that makes two people I have to stop," said Electron, letting out a small sigh. "Right, I got it. The old shooting range. I'll go look for him. Thank you for your help."

Electron started to turn away, but Mrs. Smith seized his arm, pulling him back round to face her. There was a growing look of dread on her face. "Why is this woman after him?" she asked.

Electron fell silent for a moment, unsure what to tell the woman. Should he tell her that her husband and his friends were all murderers? Somehow, he felt that he could not bring himself to do so. "I'm not sure you want to know," he said.

Mrs. Smith did not release Electron's arm; in fact, her grip tightened, her fear-widened eyes pleading up at him. "Electron," she said, her voice quiet and wavering, "what did my husband do?"

Suddenly, Electron realized that she was not just dreading what might happen to her husband: she was dreading the truth. As hard as it may have been for her to accept at first, she knew that her husband and his friends had done something terrible to this woman, and now she wanted to hear it for herself. With a heavy sigh, he looked Mrs. Smith deep in the eyes. "Your husband, and his friends… they killed a man," said Electron. "Now his wife is hunting them down, out of revenge. I couldn't stop her from killing the other three, but now that I'm one step ahead of her, I promise I will save your husband."

Mrs. Smith brought a hand up to her mouth in shock, her face turning pale as the revelation sank in. She staggered back a few paces, her other hand straying to her chest, then nodded as though in acknowledgement. Her lips began to move, and she muttered something under her breath that Electron could barely hear: "I… I never thought he would go this far… I know when he hits me, it's because I've done something wrong, but this man, he didn't do anything, he-" Mrs. Smith froze suddenly, as another thought occurred to her. Maybe I didn't do anything wrong. Maybe it's been him all these years, and I just didn't realize it until now. All this time… Slowly, the fear and sorrow she felt for her husband ebbed away, replaced by torrents of repressed pain, regret, and anger.

Though Electron could not see the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside her, he could tell that Mrs. Smith needed some time to herself, to process everything. "I think I'll leave you alone for now," he said. "I have to go save your husband, after all."

As Electron turned to go once more, Mrs. Smith suddenly shook her head, this time with a new-found ferocity. "Don't bother," she said. "If they… if they really killed that man… then he deserves to rot like the rest of them."

Electron turned back, shaking his own head. "He deserves to answer for his crimes," said Electron. "He deserves to face justice. Just not the kind of justice that woman's dishing out." Electron turned to go once more, and this time Mrs. Smith did not try to stop him. "I'm really sorry," Electron said finally. "I really am." With that, he took off into the sky, heading north.

"Martin," he said, activating his radio. "Andy wasn't at his house; he got spooked and ran to a disused shooting range north of town. I'm gonna head there now, see if I can convince him to turn himself in. That oughta put a stop to Jasmine's rampage."

"Alright, good job, man," said Martin. "And if you could apprehend her while you're at it, that'd be great."

"I'll do my best," said Electron. "The police are still out combing the city for her, right?"

"Yeah, but they ain't found her yet," said Martin. "Let's hope they do. In the meantime, you get to Andy."

"Will do," said Electron. "Oh, and could you send a police unit over to his house, please? I think his wife might have a few things to say."

"I'm on it," said Martin.

It was at this point that something occurred to Electron. "Actually… don't," he said. "Don't send a police unit there. At least, not yet. I've got an idea."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not gonna like the sound of this?" asked Martin.

***

It was not long before the sudden smash of a window heralded the Iron Maiden's arrival at Andy's house. Mrs. Smith was sitting in the living room as though waiting for her, her head bowed and her face pale as she continued to digest the horrible truths she had just learned. "Your husband," said the Iron Maiden. "Where is he?"

Mrs. Smith looked up, her expression strangely calm. "He's at the disused shooting range, north of town," she said. "It won't be that hard for you to find."

The Iron Maiden nodded, appreciative of the help, and also pleasant surprised. "Thank you," she said, before adding, "You understand, don’t you? Why I have to do this."

Mrs. Smith nodded in reply. "I do," she said. "I just wish I could have done it sooner."

Day 203 (Catch-Up)

[from Electron]

While Martin trawled the connections between the two victims, looking for clues as to who the sword-wielding woman could be targeting next, Electron set about patrolling the area near where she had last been seen. Worryingly, however, she appeared to have evaded the police blockades and escaped into the wider city. He flew back and forth, investigating several potential sightings, but found nothing save a used smoke bomb.

"I think our theory was right," he told Martin. "Whoever this woman is, she's only targeting specific people, and refusing to harm anyone else. She could have violently confronted me, the police, or both, but instead she's chosen to just evade us. I think it might be possible to capture her alive." Martin did not respond. "Hello? Martin? Are you there?"

Eventually a voice responded, but it was a woman. "I'm sorry," she said, "Martin isn't at his desk right now. He's away pursuing some kind of lead. I don't know when he'll be back."

"I see," said Electron. "Well, when he gets back, could you tell him I'm going to try and catch this sword-wielding murderer alive, without a struggle?"

The woman barely stifled a chuckle. "You make it sound so easy," she said. "But then, I guess it would be for you. Alright, I'll tell him. Good luck, Electron."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Electron. "Over and out." Electron hung up and headed back into the sky, resuming his search.

By the time he heard from Martin, it was late afternoon and the sin was beginning to sink low on the sky. There was still no trace of the woman. "Electron," said Martin. "You there? You manage to track her down?"

"No, I'm afraid not," said Electron. "I don't know where she is, but I do have a feeling that-"

"Yeah, I heard about your theory," said Martin impatiently. "Listen, 'coz I got something more than theories. I know who she is, and more importantly, I know who her other targets are."

"You do?" said Electron. "That's great! Who are they, then?"

"Their names are Matt Tyler and Andy Smith," said Martin. "They were both friends with John Baxter and Kevin McAllister. Matt lives at Newport House, Room 307, while Andy lives at 156 Coolidge Avenue."

"Alright, thank you," said Electron. "Do you know why this woman is after them?"

"I do," said Martin, "but you're not gonna like it."

"Hit me with it," said Electron. "If I can understand why she's doing this, maybe I can talk her out of it."

"Alright," said Martin. "Three weeks ago, John, Kevin, Matt, and Andy allegedly beat a black man into a coma. His name was Thomas Dailly, and five days ago he passed away in hospital. His wife, Jasmine, apparently hasn't been seen since. The case was never brought to trial due to lack of evidence, despite there being at least one witness to the assault. And here's the kicker: Thomas and Jasmine are both metalworkers. She could easily have forged the swords and the armour herself."

"I see," said Electron. "So, we're trying to save a bunch of presumably racist murderers." He suddenly recalled the Confederate flag that had been hanging in Kevin's house.

"Believe me," said Martin, "I'm even less happy about it than you are. But leaving these people to die would just make us as bad as her. If they really did kill Thomas Dailly, then they deserve to face justice for it. What Jasmine's doing ain't justice."

"I agree," said Electron. "Which one of them's the closest to where Kevin was murdered?"

"That'd be Matt," said Martin. "Newport House, Room 307. It's only about a mile from your current location."

"I'll be there as fast as I can," said Electron. "Hopefully I can get to him before Jasmine does."

"Let's hope so," said Martin. "Let me know either way. Good luck, man."

"Okay, see you." Electron hung up, and immediately flew off in the direction of Newport House, an eighteen-storey apartment complex near the downtown area. The journey took barely a minute, but it seemed he was already too late, as a shocked crowd was gathered around the open door to Room 307. They turned to him with sorrowful looks as he landed outside the door.

"It happened just a few minutes ago," one of them told him. "The Iron Maiden showed up at the complex, some of us came out to try and stop her, but-"

"The Iron Maiden?" repeated Electron, bemused.

"That's what they're calling her on the Internet," said the man. "You know, that masked killer."

"I tried to stop her," said a Hispanic woman, "but she just knocked me aside and-"

Electron placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, giving her a comforting look. "It's okay," he said. "You all did your best. I appreciate your efforts. But, I'm guessing that-"

A third man nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He's dead. We're sorry."

Electron shook his head. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he said. "It's my job to save people, and I just wasn't fast enough this time. But I know where she's going to strike next, and believe me, this time I'm going to stop her. Which way did she go?"

"That direction," said the Hispanic woman. She and about three others all pointed to the west.

"Okay, thank you," said Electron. "I'll stop her this time for sure. Everybody stand back, please." The crowd duly stepped back a few paces, and Electron lifted off into the sky, racing off in the direction of Coolidge Avenue. "I was too late to save Matt," he told Martin, "he's dead. I'm on my way over to Andy, there's no way she can be at his house already. When she gets there, I'll stop her."

"This might be your last shot at catching her," said Martin, "so make it count. Good luck, man."

"Thanks, Martin," said Electron. "This city is counting on me to stop her, and I'm not gonna let them down. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. See ya."

As Electron hung up, he could see Coolidge Avenue approaching fast in the distance. Martin was right: if Jasmine succeeded in killing Andy, not only would her husband never receive justice, but she could well drop off the grid afterwards, never to be seen again. Whatever happened, he had to stop her here.

Day 191

[from Electron]

Electron raced over to Jefferson Avenue as fast as his Jet Boots would carry him, and upon reaching it, he immediately spotted the masked killer's distinctive armour. With a sudden pang of nervousness, he rapidly descended, coming to a halt just in front of the killer and cutting off her escape. To his dismay, he saw that her armour was spattered with blood, and he realized that he had been too late. He could, at least, stop her from taking any more lives. "That's far enough," he said.

The armoured woman took a step back, seemingly rattled. Her hand strayed to the handle of one of her katanas, but she did not draw it. "I don't wanna fight you," she said. "I got nothing against you."

"Yeah? Well, I have something against someone who murders two innocent people in cold blood," said Electron.

The woman's fists clenched tighter, a scowl of contempt passing across the part of her face that wasn't covered by the domino mask. "They're not as innocent as you think they are," she said.

Sparks began to fly around Electron's hands as he prepared his Taser Grip. The same immobilization trick he had used on Titus would not work on this woman; he would have to get in close and shock her into submission. "Even if they're not, what gives you the right to take the law into your own hands?" he asked.

The masked woman was silent for a moment, her scowl growing more pronounced. Electron felt that perhaps his logic and reasoning had beaten her, but he then realized that if she couldn't fight him with logic and reason, she might try and fight him with force instead. A split-second after he had come to this realization, the masked woman suddenly produced a smoke bomb from a pouch on her belt and threw it to the ground. In a flash, the area was obscured by thick white smoke, and under the cover of the smokescreen, the woman darted for the cover of a nearby alleyway.

It took Electron only a couple of seconds to recover from the surprise, and he sprinted through the smokescreen, inhaling a lungful of smoke in the process. He was swiftly brought to a halt as he hacked and coughed, momentarily struggling to breathe. "I didn't… really… think this… through…" he spluttered.

By the time he had recovered enough to follow the masked woman into the alleyway, there was no sign of her. Cautiously, he advanced into the alleyway, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Every so often he clicked his fingers, sending out showers of sparks to illuminate the darkness. However, there was still no sign of the woman. At the other end of the alleyway was a T-junction, and with no way of knowing which way she had gone, Electron was forced to abandon the search. "Dammit," he said.

Resigned to his failure, Electron contacted Martin. "I lost sight of her," he said. "And… I don't think I made in time to save the next victim, either."

Electron could hear Martin sigh into the microphone. "Well, it doesn't matter that much," he said. "The cops have got the area locked down. Even if she got away from you, she can't get away from all of them."

"I'm not so sure," said Electron. "It was weird, though, it was like… she didn't even try to fight me, she just tossed a smoke bomb and fled."

"That means she ain't just some indiscriminate killer, like Titus," said Martin. "She's deliberately targeting these people, and for whatever reason, she doesn't wanna get her hands any bloodier than she has to."

"If that's the case, then tell the cops to try and take her alive," said Electron. "She may be a murderer, but she deserves to face justice."

"I don't control the cops, man," said Martin, "I only control you. But I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Martin," said Electron. "I'm gonna go look for the house where she struck this time. Maybe I can try to find a pattern that links the victims together."

"Good idea, man," said Martin. "You do that, and let me know if you find anything."

"I will," said Electron. "I'll talk to you later."

"See ya," said Martin, before hanging up.

Electron closed the connection, and headed back up the alleyway towards Jefferson Avenue, heaving a sigh. For a hero, he didn't feel like he'd done a whole lot of heroism since he had been assigned here. His defeat of Titus had been all too easy, the result of his powers happening to coincide with his foe's weaknesses. He had had little to do until this masked swordswoman had struck, and now she had murdered two people without him being able to stop her. He couldn’t rely on the police catching her for him; he had to do something. Going to the scene of her latest crime to look for clues would be an excellent place to start.

Electron hadn't seen where the murder had taken place, but finding it was not very difficult. All he had to do was follow the sounds of wailing, of both sirens and voices. The sounds led him to house number 86, outside of which were parked three police cars and an ambulance. As the hero watched on, a body was brought out of the house on a stretcher, covered in a bloody sheet. An arm dangled over the side of the stretcher, blood still dripping from the fingertips. It was a gruesome sight, and it occurred to Electron that he had never seen a dead body before. Something deep inside told him that it would not be the last he bore witness to.

Approaching the front of the house, he saw that a window had been smashed in; presumably this was the means by which the masked killer had entered. A pair of policemen had been preparing to close off the scene with yellow crime scene tape, but when they saw Electron approaching, they held off on doing so, allowing him through.

"Kinda ironic, isn't it?" one of the policemen remarked to him. "The guy living at number 86 gets 86'd."

"I'm not sure that fits the definition of irony," said Electron as he passed through.

"See, I told you he wouldn't find it funny," said the other policeman.

"Well, I still think it's kinda funny-"

Ignoring the policemen, Electron proceeded onwards into the house, carefully climbing through the broken window. His gloves meant that he didn't have to worry about contaminating the crime scene, but even so he tried not to touch anything on his way in. Having entered, he found himself in the living room, which he immediately realized had been the scene of the murder itself. The television was on, though the screen was splashed with blood; a larger pool of blood lay on the carpet before the TV, marking the spot where the man had fallen. Electron noticed a hunting rifle lying on the ground near the blood pool, and another mounted on a wall rack above the TV; hanging above the rifle was a large Confederate flag.

Sitting on the sofa was a woman who, presumably, was the victim's widow. Her own clothes were spattered with blood, and she was sobbing uncontrollably into her hands as a policeman tried desperately to console her. Looking up, he noticed Electron and exchanged sombre nods with him before silently getting up from the sofa and allowing Electron to take his place. I hope I can handle this, Electron thought. I'm not very good at talking to people who just watched their husbands get killed; I dare say I haven't had much practice.

Electron gently put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Hey," he said gently, "it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna catch the woman who did this. I promise you."

The woman managed to calm herself down enough to speak. "You… you promise?" she sobbed, looking tearfully at Electron.

"I promise," said Electron. "But I'm going to need your help, alright?" The woman nodded, wiping her eyes. "Okay. Thank you. What's your name?"

"S… Sarah," the woman sobbed. "M… my name is S-Sarah."

"Her husband's name was Kevin McAllister," said the policeman. "He's the man who was murdered."

"I kinda guessed that last part," said Electron. "Did your husband - Kevin - did he know John Baxter, the previous victim?"

Sarah sniffled and nodded. "They… they knew each other," she said. "They used to go out together… buy some beers, go fishing at the wharf… oh God!" She buried her face in her hands and started sobbing once more.

Electron, unsure what to do, simply patted her gently on the shoulder. He knew his mission was to interrogate her, but he simply didn't have it in him. "I've never been fishing," he said finally. "I guess different kinds of people have different kinds of fun, right?"

Sarah nodded, seeming to appreciate the more sympathetic line of inquiry. "I was never interested in it either," she said, drying her eyes again, "but Kevin… he really loved fishing. Sometimes I'd go with him just to sit and watch him…" Her voice petered out as she tried to hold back her tears once more.

"Did… anyone else ever go with him, besides you and John?" asked Electron.

Sarah gasped, as she came to the same conclusion that Electron had. "You… you think they might be in danger?" she said.

"I think these murders are connected somehow," said Electron, nodding. "Right now, the only link I have between them is your husband's fishing trips. It can't be a coincidence."

Sarah thought for a moment, the agony and sorrow on her face now tinged with panic. "Oh God, let me think… okay… there are these two guys who went with Kevin and John whenever they went fishing, and they met for other things as well. Oh, what were their names… Paul! One of them was definitely called Paul! I'm sorry, I don't remember his last name-"

"It's okay," said Electron gently. "That should still be enough for us to find him. Do you remember the other man's name as well?"

"No, I'm sorry," said Sarah, shaking her head. "I-I think it might have begun with an M… m-maybe Michael, or Matthew…"

"Well, if we find one, I'm sure we'll find the other," said Electron. "Thank you. Now… umm… this might be hard, but if you can, could you possibly give me an account of… what happened?"

Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep, rattling breath, steeling herself. "I… I'll try," she said. "It was over so fast, though… one minute, we were sat here watching TV, the next… th-the window was smashed in, and we turned to see who it was, and it was the woman from the news reports. Th-the woman who killed John. I thought she was gonna kill us, but she… she just stood there… staring at me. I don't know why. Kevin… got up to get his rifle… and…"

Sarah couldn’t bring herself to say anything further, and dissolved once more into tears, but Electron could work out the rest for himself. Kevin had retrieved the hunting rifle from the mantelpiece, but before he could fire it, the killer had struck him down. The fact that she had hesitated upon seeing Sarah gave him pause for thought. Perhaps she hadn't expected there to be witnesses.

Electron gave Sarah another comforting pat on the shoulder. "It's okay," said Electron. "You've been very helpful, and very brave, telling me all of this. I'd like to ask you one last question, if that's okay, and… try not to get too upset by it." Sarah nodded, and Electron braced himself. "Do you… know of anything that your husband or his friends might have done to anger this woman? Any reason at all that she might be after him? I'm sorry, but I have to ask this."

Sarah forcefully shook her head. "No," she said. "My husband was a good man. He didn't deserve this… he didn't deserve this!" Sarah started sobbing again, even harder than before, and this time Electron sensed that he would get nothing more out of her. In any case, he had nothing more to ask. All that remained was to leave the poor woman to her grief, though not without some final parting words of comfort.

"Nobody deserves this," said Electron. "Nobody deserves to see their loved one get taken from them like this, either. I'm sorry for your loss." With that, Electron got up from the sofa and started to go. He took one last look back - at Sarah, overcome with grief, at the blood soaked into the carpet, and at the Confederate flag hung over the mantelpiece - before climbing back out through the window and taking his leave.

Day 181

[from Electron]

Contrary to Electron's expectations, and perhaps to his relief, the day ended up being almost entirely uneventful. The only notable thing that happened was an attempted purse-snatching in the suburbs, and all it had taken was a single look at Electron for the perpetrator to hand the purse straight back again and run away in fright. Violent crime had already taken a nosedive since Electron arrived, not because he had been stopping them all, but because criminals were too scared to commit them in case Electron caught them in the act. If the superhero could stop the seemingly-invincible Titus, then he could stop almost anyone.

The following day started off just as uneventfully. Electron flew around the city all morning in search of crime, the armour-clad murderer from yesterday, or both, but his search proved fruitless. He was, however, greeted by hundreds of citizens who waved and cheered as he flew past them, just as they usually did. Even after a fortnight of patrolling the city, he had still not gotten used to the attention he attracted.

At about 1pm, a hungry Electron decided that it was time for lunch. He tended to eat out for lunch, partly because it was more convenient then having to fly all the way back to his apartment, and partly because the city's various eateries tended to waive his bills. Having the city's greatest hero eat at your humble burger joint was not only quite the honour, it was also fairly good for business, and already a few store owners had taken pictures of the superhero to hang on their walls. On the rare occasions that a store didn't offer him free food, a citizen would usually step in to foot the bill - this was fortunate for Electron, as his suit did not have any pockets.

Today, Electron decided to stop off at a Chinese restaurant only a block away. As he stepped through the door, he found only one other person inside, a slightly chubby woman happily tucking into a chow mein. At the counter, he was greeted by a young-looking white man who seemed rather star-struck. "Wow, Electron!" he exclaimed. "I was hoping you'd visit this place eventually! I'm a huge fan!"

"I'm sure you are," said Electron, nodding. "Could I get an order of General Tso's chicken, please? And some prawn crackers?"

"Sure," said the man. "Would you like a fortune cookie?"

Electron shrugged. "Sure, why not," he said. "Oh, and can you make all that to go, please? Just in case I get a call-out while I'm eating."

"Of course," said the man. "Will that be all?"

"Yeah, that's all," said Electron.

"Alright then," said the man. He started to run up the total, then remembered who he was serving. "I'll have to run this past the manager," he said, "but I'm sure he won't mind if I make this one on the house."

"Thank you," said Electron. "You're too kind."

"It's the least I can do for the man keeping this city safe," said the man.

As the man passed his order through to the kitchen, Electron waited patiently for it to be ready. Only a few minutes later, however, he was interrupted by a beeping sound coming from his earpiece, signalling an incoming call from Martin. "Typical, of all the times for him to call me…" he muttered, before turning to the cashier. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to take this," he said.

"That's okay," said the man. "We're still working on your order."

Electron flicked a switch on his earpiece to open the channel. "This had better be important," he said, "I'm about to have lunch."

"Oh, it's important all right," said Martin. "That masked killer's been sighted on Jefferson Avenue. Sounds like she's gonna strike again. You better get over there as fast as possible."

"She had to pick now to show up," grumbled Electron. "Why couldn't she have not shown up at all?"

"Well, she has shown up," said Martin pointedly, "so get your ass over there right now!"

"Alright, alright, geez," said Electron, rolling. "I'm on my way." Hanging up the call, he turned to the cashier. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to head off quickly," he said. "I'll be back in, like, twenty minutes. If my order's done before then, keep it warm for me, alright? I'll be back."

"Okay, no problem," said the man. As Electron activated his jet boots and flew off, the man eagerly waved him off. The woman eating her chow mein waved as well, her chopsticks still in her hand.

Day 163

[from Electron]

SILVERBURG SUBURBS

TWO WEEKS AFTER ELECTRON'S FIRST BATTLE

"-that's gotta be a home run-- it is! Homer!"

Half-a-dozen fans immediately scrambled to catch the ball as it flew into the stands, and ultimately it was a portly man wearing sunglasses who was successful, holding the baseball aloft with a triumphant smile before handing it to his young son. "That kid's gonna have a real nice souvenir to take home with him tonight," remarked the colour commentator, "not to mention memories of a comfortable win for the Rays here."

John Baxter was also enjoying the Rays' winning performance, but from the comfort of his sofa, while eating a bag of potato chips. This didn't make him any less of a fan, however, and he enthusiastically whooped and cheered each time the Tampa Bay team notched up a run. With that home run, the Rays now led 6-2 with only two innings remaining, and victory looked fairly certain.

As the next batter stepped up to the plate, John suddenly heard a noise that sounded alarmingly like the smashing of a glass window. It had definitely come from his own kitchen. John's immediate instinct was that his house was being broken into. "Not on my watch," he said. Getting up, he paused the baseball match, retrieved a baseball bat of his own from underneath the couch, and went to confront the intruder.

It didn't take him long to spot the intruder, as they were just exiting the kitchen. It was a black woman, and her attire caught John completely off-guard. As well as a stainless-steel domino mask that concealed part of her face, she was wearing a stainless-steel breastplate, gauntlets, and leg armor, and was carrying two long swords. For whatever reason, John was more fixated on the armor than the swords, the confusion evident on his face. "What the hell are you supposed to be?" he sneered.

The armored woman raised one of her swords, pointing it at John. "You're John Baxter, right?" she asked.

John, in turn, raised his baseball bat, preparing to swing. "Yeah, that's me," he said. "What's it to you?"

With a cry of anger, the woman charged forwards and swung at John with her swords. The first slash missed him entirely. The second pierced straight through his chest. The baseball bat fell from John's hands, and as the woman tugged her sword free, he collapsed to the floor, blood soaking into the carpet. The woman stood coldly over him until he had breathed his last, then turned round and left the house the same way she had come. One down.

***

"-John Baxter, 28 years of age, was killed after confronting an intruder who broke into his home while allegedly wielding two samurai swords. Witnesses nearby reported seeing an African-American woman wearing metal body armor and carrying two swords; this woman is now the prime suspect in the investigation, with Silverburg Police working to try and uncover her identity-"

Aaron watched the news report and couldn't help feeling a slight sense of regret. If he had happened to have been in the area at the time of the murder, perhaps he could have saved this man's life. Then again, it was no use wondering "what if": the man was dead now, and no about of regret was going to save him. All he could do was make sure that he saved the next person in danger.

He had known that this was going to happen almost since the very start of the training. One of the first things Martin had told him was: "You can't save everybody. The sooner you get used to that, the easier it'll be for you when someone you coulda rescued gets killed, 'coz like it or not, that will happen. You can't be everywhere at once, you can't stop a crime if you don't know it's in progress. Someday, whether it's on your first day or after three months, somebody's gonna get their purse snatched, somebody's gonna get shot up, and somebody's gonna ask you, "Where were you when this happened? Why didn't you prevent this?" And there ain't no answer you can give 'em that'll make 'em feel better."

Sure enough, a few people had already taken to the Internet to question how Electron had not noticed such a conspicuous woman during his patrols. Others had pointed out that the police hadn't noticed her either, and that of the various witnesses who had seen her, none had confronted her. Still others held a more straightforward view, placing the blame solely on the killer and questioning how she had managed to obtain her swords and armor without attracting attention. Aaron tried to stay away from such discussions, but he knew there would be those out there - not least the victim's family - who would blame him just as much as the murderer.

Ultimately, there was no use in dwelling on it. Switching off the TV, Aaron pushed the man's death to the back of his mind, though the masked, armored killer remained in his thoughts. If there was a chance that she could strike again, then he had to try and prevent that. Opening his wardrobe, Aaron took out his Electron costume and started to put it on. Today's going to be a long day, he thought to himself.

Day 144

[from Electron]

A short while after Electron had disabled Titus, a helicopter arrived at the scene. Inside it was a special machine that generated a powerful electromagnetic field within the rear passenger bay, keeping Titus immobilized while he was transported to Black Rock. It had been completed over a week ago as part of SHRED's plans to capture Titus, but it could not have been deployed without some means of incapacitating the villain beforehand, otherwise he would have merely dragged the helicopter out of the sky the moment it tried to land. To this end, Electron had been an invaluable help.

As the helicopter landed in front of City Hall, Martin's voice sounded in Electron's earpiece. "Nice job, Electron," he said. "You've helped us take a real menace off the streets. The people of Silverburg can sleep easy now, thanks to you."

"I don't feel like I really did a lot, to be honest," Electron replied, as he started loading the frozen Titus into the back of the helicopter. Even with the help of his electromagnetic abilities, moving the heavy steel figure was hard work.

"You did enough, kid," said Martin. "Fact is, the city's safe. Whether or not you feel like you actually did anything doesn't really matter."

"I guess not," said Electron.

"Besides," said Martin, "it's good that you're not letting this get to your head. There's nothing more dangerous in a superhero than an ego. Believing you're invincible, and immune to failure, is the first step to defeat. You shouldn't dwell on your weaknesses, but don't act like you don't have any, either."

"Gotcha," said Electron. "Okay, thanks for the advice. I'll keep doing my best."

"You better," said Martin. "Alright, I'm outta here. Good luck, Electron."

"Thanks," said Electron.

With Titus now positioned inside the rear of the helicopter, there was a loud whirr and hum as the electromagnetic generators were powered up. Tentatively, Electron took his hand away from Titus, ready to place it back on him at a second's notice should the villain resume moving again. When he remained still, Electron breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back.

Normally, this was the point at which a superhero would make some kind of pithy remark to his vanquished foe, just before he was taken away by the police. Electron did not have the demeanour - nor the wit - to make such a remark, but Titus wasn't prepared to go without taking one last shot at Electron's confidence. "If I ever get out of here, I'm coming after you," he said. "I know I can take you down, and I'm going to make sure I do."

Electron, however, seemed to have grown in confidence, even after such a brief encounter. "I beat you this time," he said. "I can beat you next time, as well."

Titus looked as though he were trying to smirk, but the electromagnetic field would not allow his facial muscles to move that much. "We'll see about that," he said.

 The helicopter's rotors began to spin up, and Electron retreated away to a safe distance as the winds whipped up around him. He watched silently as the helicopter rose up into the sky before flying away, carrying the imprisoned Titus to Black Rock prison. For now, it was all over, and Silverburg was safe, but Electron knew that his work here had only just begun.

Within minutes, the news of Titus' defeat spread throughout the city, and masses of people began to gather at the steps of City Hall to celebrate the capture of Titus. Electron found himself mobbed by a throng of joyous civilians, all of them congratulating him. "You did it! You really did it-!" "I can sleep easy now, thanks to you-" "My brother's shop was raided by Titus. I'm so glad you finally stopped him-" "Can I have your autograph-?" "Can I have your babies-?" "I'm gonna take a selfie with him!" "Wait, isn't he bleeding?" "Give the man some room! You're crushing him!"

Finally the crowd stepped back, but just as Electron thought that he might receive some respite, the reporters moved in. Five different microphones were hastily shoved in Electron's direction, and the flashing of a dozen cameras dazzled him.

"Electron!" cried a reporter. "Why do you think it took so long for SHRED to organize an operation to stop Titus?"

Electron blinked, thrown off by the sudden question. Dealing with reporters had, most regrettably, not been part of his SHRED training regimen. "Uhh, well… I'm not really the person to be asking that to…" he said hesitantly.

"Do you think they were simply waiting for someone with your specific powers to come along?"

"Uhh… probably," said Electron.

"Electron! Ashley Garcia, reporting live for SNN. Now that Titus is in custody, what do you plan to do next? Will you rest until the next threat presents itself, or will you continue to watch over the city in the meantime?"

Electron found this to be a much better question. He turned to address Ashley directly, speaking into her dark blue microphone. "Well, to be honest, I hadn't really thought about that," he said. "I'd really just been focusing on this one battle. But… I think the people here will feel safer and more secure if they know that I'm there for them, so I'll probably keep watching over the city, and stopping any crimes that I come across."

"Thank you for your time," said Ashley. "I'm sure we're all looking forward to seeing you in action again."

Electron felt that he would prefer it if he was never needed again, because if he were needed again, that would mean that the city was in danger. But he had a sworn duty to protect the people of this city, and he was going to do his utmost to uphold it. For now, though, there was nothing left for him to do but continue to deal with the constant barrage of questions, while the reality of the situation began to sink in. He wasn't just Aaron Price any more: now he was Electron, and to the people gathered around him, he was a hero.

Day 130

[from Electron]

The marble steps of City Hall cracked slightly beneath Titus' weight as he watched Electron approaching. Yesterday the mayor had publicly announced the superhero's impending arrival in SIlverburg, and had boldly declared that the super's crime wave was now over. Titus begged to differ, and he was ready to take the superhero down in front of the whole city and prove once and for all that he could not be stopped. Not by the police, not by SHRED, not by anyone.

As Electron descended towards the pristine City Hall building, he couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the sheer physique of the man before him. He was over six feet tall, powerful muscles rippling and gleaming all over his body, his solid steel skin shining sinisterly in the sunlight. It seemed like a very difficult first assignment, but Electron tried to remain calm and not let his nerves get the better of him. He had the advantage here. He had all the equipment and training that SHRED had given him, and he also had a plan.

Electron landed neatly at the bottom of the steps, and from this position, Titus seemed even larger as he stood thirteen steps above the superhero, looming menacingly over him. "So, you're Electron, huh?" he said. His voice was loud, deep, and gruff, but with a slightly metallic quality to it. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be."

At this point, many superheroes would have come up with some sort of witty riposte, deflecting the insult right back at the villain. Most superheroes, however, were not on their first day on the job, and feeling rather intimidated by the giant metal man standing before them. A hesitant "I guess" was Electron's only reply.

Titus smirked. "You don't seem like much of a hero to me," he said. "But if you really wanna get your ass kicked that badly, then come at me!" Titus spread his arms wide, challenging Electron. "I'm right here, hero!"

Electron knew that his suit wasn't going to provide much protection against Titus' herculean punches. One blow to the face would probably knock his head clean off his shoulders. But for his plan to work, he needed to get in close. And in any case, perhaps he wouldn’t need the suit's protection. If his electromagnetic force fields could stop a bullet, they could stop one of Titus' punches. Probably. Possibly.

Nervously, Electron started to make his way slowly up the grand staircase, never once taking his eyes off of Titus. After a moment, Titus also began to descend, closing in on the superhero. As soon as Electron was within arm's reach, Titus roared out and swung at Electron with a mighty right hook. It was well-telegraphed, and Electron ducked out of the way easily, but before he could do anything else, Titus suddenly kicked him hard in the face, sending him tumbling back down the stairs. The hero fell to a heap at the bottom but quickly scrambled onto his hands and knees, grimacing in pain as blood began to spurt from a broken nose.

"Is that all you got?" shouted Titus, taunting the hero from up high. "I thought you had more in you than that!"

Shakily, Electron climbed back to his feet, staggering a little before turning to face Titus with renewed confidence. "I'm just getting started," he said.

"Really?" said Titus. "Looks to me more like you're about to be finished!" Titus charged down the steps, each one cracking under his weight as he stormed towards the shaken hero. This time, Electron was ready, and as Titus swung another almighty blow at him, he focused a magnetic force field directly in front of himself, ready to block the hit. Titus' fist still connected with Electron's chest, but all the force had been taken out of the blow and Electron did not feel a thing.

As Titus stood there flabbergasted, trying to understand why his punch hadn't sent Electron flying across the street, Electron quickly placed a hand on Titus' arm, and in a shower of sparks the villain was completely immobilized. "Wh… what the… I can't move!" he exclaimed. "That's… that's impossible!"

"Actually… oww…" Pinching his broken nose between the forefinger and thumb of his free hand, to try and stem the blood flow, Electron carried on speaking in a voice that now sounded rather nasally. "Actually, it isn't. It's to do with… electromagnetism and stuff. I dunno, I'm a little dizzy, but…"

Titus tried vainly to move himself, even an inch, but he could not. "There's… no way I could be taken down by a bunch of magnets… argh!"

"Actually, you are the magnet," said Electron. "The electricity flowing through your metal skin creates an electromagnetic field, which I'm able to manipulate at will. I'm using that to hold you still, and that's why you can't move."

"I see," said Titus. "So, as long as you're holding onto me, I can't move?"

"Pretty much," said Electron. "SHRED are on their way, and they'll take things from here. You'll be off to Black Rock, and this city will be safe."

"Maybe for now," said Titus threateningly. "But for how long? Another me will come along soon enough. You may have defeated me, but how many more can you defeat?"

"I dunno," said Electron, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess we'll find out, one way or the other. But hopefully, I can defeat as many as I have to in order to keep this city safe."

Titus sneered. "We'll see," he said.

Day 112

All SHRED operatives, upon completing their training, were assigned a specific city or county to protect. Aaron Price, having completed his own training, had been assigned to Volusia County, Florida; specifically, the coastal city of Silverburg, which was currently under siege from the metallic supervillain known as Titus. Aaron's first assignment, therefore, would be to track down Titus and defeat him, finally bringing his one-man crime spree to an end.

Aaron had received his suit, and it was a lot better than he had been expecting. True to Alice's designs, it was a bright golden-yellow with two electric-blue lightning bolts running down the front. The mask was a simple yellow domino mask, with stylized lightning bolts running down from each eye across his cheeks. According to the suit's technical specifications, it was bullet-proof, stab-proof, and fire-proof, yet it felt surprisingly comfortable and breathable. They had even managed to incorporate the electrically-powered "Jet Boots" that Alice had thought of, allowing him to fly through the air at high-speed in order to quickly attend emergencies. It had taken him a little time to get the hang of using them, but as he flew towards Silverburg in pursuit of Titus, he was having no problems at all, tearing his way through the azure sky as easily as if he were walking.

As he approached the city limits, Martin Barnes' voice sounded in the earpiece he had been given. Martin had been assigned as his handler, tasked with making sure the new hero did as he was told. "Titus has been spotted," said Martin. "He's outside City Hall. Apparently he's waiting for you to come fight him, just like we thought he would." SHRED had made it no secret that they were sending a superhero to Silverburg, in the hopes that Titus would be lured out by the prospect of battle. It seemed as though that plan had been a success.

"Somebody tell him I'm on my way," said Aaron.

"I'm sure he'll be able to see that for himself, soon enough," said Martin. "Alright, good luck, man. With your abilities, this should be a walk in the park, but even so, be careful. This is your first mission, and I'd appreciate it if you came back in one piece."

"So would I," remarked Aaron.

His remark was met with a chuckle from Martin. "You'll do fine, man," he said. "You got this. Now go give 'im hell, Electron." Electron was Aaron's superhero name, decided upon after much brainstorming between himself and Martin. From now on, he was both Aaron Price and Electron. Fortunately, he would have SHRED's support when it came to juggling the two. When it came to fighting as Electron, however, he was on his own.

Electron was flying over the city now. From his vantage point several hundred metres up, he could make out City Hall in the distance, a large white building surrounded by a small park. He could just barely make out a silver dot in front of it; this dot was Titus, waiting for the hero to arrive in order to battle him. This was it. There was no backing down now. It was time to see whether his training had truly paid off.

Day 93

[from Electron]

With his suit designed, and being constructed, Aaron's superhero training began in earnest. It had been found that the source of his powers was a reservoir of electrical energy deep inside him, a reservoir that not only seemed to be limitless, but could also be conducted effortlessly throughout his entire body. By projecting it out through his hands, he could fire powerful beams of electricity that he and Martin dubbed "Ion Beams", that were able to stun opponents. He could also get in close to them and grab them with an electrified hand, something they had jokingly referred to as the "Vulcan Death Grip" before settling on the more serious name of "Taser Grip".

Aaron's powers went beyond just this, however. By manipulating the electrical currents he produced, he was able to create electromagnetic fields. These fields could attract and repel any magnetic object - explaining the incident with the cars during his Awakening - and also be projected outwards in the form of a shield, to protect him from bullets. His suit would still be bulletproof, however, just in case he were ever caught off-guard.

Aaron was not a superhero yet. His suit was still being made. He was still learning to control his powers, and to use them well in a fighting environment. They had not even settled on a name yet: Aaron liked "Static", while Martin was leaning towards something like "Electro". However, he would need to finish his training soon, for elsewhere in his home state of Florida, there was a city crying out for a hero such as himself.

DOWNTOWN SILVERBURG
AROUND THAT TIME
As Titus walked, his footprints cracked the pavement beneath him, leaving a trail of foot-shaped craters in his wake. It was hard not to do this when your entire body was fused with industrial-grade steel, giving you gleaming silver skin and prodigious strength - strength that Titus, a career criminal, had decided to use to further said criminal career.

Titus (by coincidence this had been his surname prior to his Awakening) was already known and feared by Silverburg's residents, and with every loud step, frightened citizens fled before him. Only one of them dared to challenge him; a store owner who rushed out, shotgun in hand, and blasted Titus with both barrels. The pellets merely ricocheted off Titus' skin, scattering on the floor, and a moment later the supervillain was upon him. With one hand he snapped the shotgun barrel in half, and with the other delivered a blow to the chest that stopped the man's heart. The man crumpled to the floor, and by the time any help arrived, he was already dead.

Deciding there was nothing of value in the man's shop, Titus continued on to the next block and his initial target: a jewelry store. Smashing his way through the glass door, he approached the store counter and the petrified shop assistant. He placed a gleaming metallic hand on the glass display case, running his palm along it and producing a horrible scratching sound.

"I'll take these, if you don't mind," growled Titus. He drew back his hand, and punched straight through the bulletproof glass.

***

A short time later, having loaded every piece of jewelry worth stealing into a large rucksack held in his hand, Titus emerged through the shattered storefront to the sound of sirens, as a police car approached the scene. The two officers inside turned to each other as they screeched to a halt, unsure how to proceed.

"What the hell are we supposed to do?" asked one. "He's made of metal!"

"I dunno," said his partner, shrugging. "Taser him, perhaps?"

"Yeah, that might work-"

Having been looking at each other they did not see Titus advance towards them. He stamped hard on the front of the car's hood, flipping it up so it stood on its front bumper, then drew back his free hand and punched the roof of the car. The car skidded backwards on its bumper at least twenty feet, sparks flying, then collided with a parked car and span and rolled back into the road, coming to a stop upside-down and severely dented. Titus strolled past the totalled police car as though it were not there, and went on his way, the rucksack full of jewelry slung over his shoulder.

Day 71

[from Electron]

It didn't take Aaron long to find the room he had been directed to; the building was very well-signposted. Before long he was stood before a door with "UNIFORM DESIGN DEPARTMENT" printed on a sign above it. Unsure for a moment whether to knock, he eventually decided to just head straight inside.

Opening the door, Aaron found himself confronted with what could only be described as organized chaos. The room was extremely cluttered, with all kinds of desks strewn about the floor, and all kinds of papers strewn about the desks. The walls were covered with papers as well, and there were even a few scattered around the floor. it was a little overwhelming, and Aaron's immediate thought was to wonder how on earth whoever worked here could possibly find anything.

Amidst all the chaos, it took Aaron a moment to locate the person he was here to see. Stood before one of the desks, shuffling a set of papers around seemingly at random, was a girl with long mousey-brown hair, wearing a blue tie-dyed shirt and jeans. She didn't seem to have noticed his presence. "Uhh… excuse me," said Aaron.

The girl jumped, a sheet of paper flying off the desk and fluttering to the ground. Turning around, she put her hand to her heart and breathed a sigh of relief. "God, you scared the living daylights out of me," she remarked. Aaron noted her distinct English accent. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Er, you must be Aaron Price, right? The new guy?"

"Yeah, that's me," said Aaron.

"Hang on a minute…" The girl picked up her fallen paper, laid it back out on the desk, and after a moment's pause, shuffled a few more papers around, before muttering, "No, that still doesn’t look right," and giving up, making her way towards Aaron. "Sorry about that, I've got some stuff I'm working on." She extended a pale hand towards him. "Alice Summerbell. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," said Aaron, shaking her hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm. "So, uhh, you're going to be designing my costume, or something…?"

"Ah, yes," said Alice, clapping her hands together and nodding. "That’s my job." She headed off towards another desk, searching amidst the papers for something. "Gone are the days when superheroes would sit in their basements and stitch their own outfits out of spandex and old tights; now they're made of cutting-edge technology and design philosophy. I'm the one who does that last bit. Ah, there you are." She had finally found what she was looking for, a self-retracting tape measure, and retrieved it from underneath the mess of papers, turning back to Aaron. "Okay, let's get started."

Heading back over to him, Alice began taking various measurements of Aaron, starting with his height. "I'd better ask you a few questions," she said, "just to get an idea of what would work best. Your power is electricity, right?"

"Electricity and electromagnetism," said Aaron.

"Well, I can't really work with electromagnetism, I can't really design around that, so electricity will have to do," said Alice. "Can you fly?"

"Nope," said Aaron. "Oh, actually, that reminds me, Martin said I'd be getting a car. Are you going to-"

"You won't be getting a car," Alice interrupted. "You won't be needing one. Trust me, we'll take care of that."

"Then what will I be getting?" asked Aaron. "I can't just walk around the city, and Martin said-"

"Jetpack," said Alice. "Or… some kind of jet. Something that can make you fly. You can power things just by touching them, right?"

"I can," said Aaron.

"Then some kind of electrically-powered jetpack or something, that runs off your natural electricity, and that you can control just by thinking about it," said Alice, thinking out loud. "I'll have to think about the implementation, and of course, discuss it with the techie people, the ones who'll actually be making it. Maybe jet boots, like Iron Man. Maybe." She shrugged and continued taking her measurements.

"So I'm gonna be able to fly?" asked Aaron. "Wow, that's pretty cool!"

"Well, that's the theory," said Alice. "Like I said, I'll have to discuss it with the techie people, and if they can't pull it off, then… but I imagine they can, I mean, that's their job, and they do all kinds of amazing stuff for other supers, so there's no reason they can't do it for you…" Her tape measure suddenly snapped back into its housing. "Alright, that should be everything. Now to start sketching out a design."

Alice crossed over to a large desk pushed up against the wall and retrieved a large A1 sheet of paper, which she pinned to the wall with drawing pins, humming quietly to herself as she did so. Aaron wondered if her constant talking was her way of coping with working on her own. He expected her to pick up a pencil, but instead, she merely touched a finger to the paper. Inky lines suddenly blossomed from where her fingertips touched the blank sheet, sketching their way effortlessly across the page. Aaron was astounded by this, and moved closer to the paper, transfixed, as the lines slowly converged into a perfect outline of his own body.

"Pretty cool, huh?" said Alice, noticing the expression on his face. "I can project my thoughts onto paper. Words, drawings… quite literally anything I can think of. Of course, it's not very useful in the field, which is why I'm only a Tier 2, but when it comes to doing graphic design, it's invaluable. Saves me a lot of money on pencils and ink as well. Anyway, let's get started on the design… first, the colour. With lightning, there are only two roads you can go down colour-wise; there's electric blue, and there's bright yellow." Little scribbles of each colour appeared on the page as she said this.

"Now, electric blue is a nice colour, a calming colour, it says, "everything's gonna be okay"," Alice continued. "Since you'll be flying, however, you'll end up blending into the sky, and that's not good; you want to be a visible presence, you want the public to know that you're there, flying above them, keeping you safe. Yellow is a good colour for that: it's high-visibility, it stands out. It says "caution: danger ahead", but it also says, "sunshine, happiness, optimism".  So I'm thinking, maybe, your suit will be mostly yellow but with electric blue patterns on it. Obviously some kind of lightning-bolt motif, as you can't not have lightning bolts…"

As she spoke, the drawing beneath her finger continued to change and evolve. It turned bright yellow, then two blue lightning bolts appeared on the front. These then disappeared, replaced by jagged blue markings on the figure's arms and legs. A pair of slightly chunky boots appeared on its feet, with surprisingly realistic flames spouting from the bottom: Alice's concept for the jet boots.

"Uhh…" Alice paused suddenly, for possibly the first time since Aaron had arrived, thinking. She then seemed to remember that Aaron was still there, for she suddenly turned to him and said, "You don't have to be here for this, you know. I've gotten everything I'll need from you to make the first draft, or I should do, anyway; now it's just the boring stuff."

"Nah, I'd like to stay," said Aaron. "It's actually quite fascinating to watch you work."

Alice seemed a little taken aback by this. "It is?" she said. "Well… if you say so." She shrugged, and returned her attention to her design. "Right, you'll need a mask as well… that's a tricky one. If you hide too much of your face, people will think you're untrustworthy. If you don’t hide enough of your face, people will guess your secret identity. It's a difficult balancing act. "Hmm…"

Another sketch began to shape itself on the paper, this time a close-up of Aaron's face, adorned with a simple domino mask. The mask turned yellow, then black, then two yellow lightning bolts were affixed to the ends, running down Aaron's cheeks. The bolts turned blue, then yellow again, as Alice deliberated. "What do you think looks best?"

"Uhh… I dunno," said Aaron. "You're the designer."

"And you're the one who's gonna be wearing it," said Alice. "I could design something that I think is the best outfit ever, and then show it to you and you'd be like, "Nah, I don't like it". So I wanna make sure you like it as well."

"Fair enough," said Aaron. "Maybe… make the whole mask blue? But maybe a darker blue? Like, navy blue?"

"Like this?" asked Alice, and the mask swiftly turned dark blue.

"Yeah, like that," said Aaron. "That looks okay."

"Alright then," said Alice. "Now, let's think about how it'll look from the back…"

Day 42

[from Electron]

No more than half an hour after the call had been made, a black car arrived at the scene of Aaron's Awakening. By now, a small crowd had gathered round to behold the destruction, and one or two intrepid reporters had also arrived, only to turn back around when they learned of the nature of the incident. If this man had Awoken, then he would soon come under the protection of SHRED, meaning that revealing his identity would become a federal crime, carrying a hefty prison sentence. Not to mention the other possible consequences of revealing a hero's true name.

The car parked up a short distance from the ruined house, whose inhabitants had already been taken to hospital as a precaution, and given assurances that SHRED would pay for their temporary accommodation as well as the repairs to their house. The two totalled cars were also going to be paid for. Most Awakenings were, fortunately, not as expensive or potentially dangerous as Aaron's had been, but when they were, the infrastructure was at least in place to ensure the resulting mess could be cleaned up.

The car door opened, and out stepped a tall black man in a sharp suit. "Alright," he said, stepping forward and flashing his SHRED badge, "let's see what we got here."

He was quickly pointed in the direction of Aaron, who was sat quietly on the curb. He had gotten over his initial shock, but was still coming to terms with what had just happened. As the agent approached, Aaron looked up nervously. "Am I in trouble?" he asked.

"Depends on your definition of trouble," said the man, before holding up his badge again. "Martin Barnes, Superhero Regulations Department. I'll be taking you in to be processed, but first I wanna know…" He glanced over at the partially demolished house, the totalled car still lying amidst the wreckage. "The hell did that happen?"

Aaron shrugs. "Beats me," he said. "You're the superhero expert, right?"

Martin squatted down so he was face-to-face with Aaron. "Go through the whole thing from the beginning for me," he said. "It started with a near-death experience, right? What'd you do, crash your bike?"

"How did you know I-" Aaron paused, then looked down at himself, remembering he was still wearing his biker leathers. He noticed for the first time that, despite the powerful bolt of lightning he had been struck with, they were not the slightest bit melted or singed. "…right. Well, uh, not exactly."

"Whatcha mean, 'not exactly'?" asked Martin.

"Well, I was riding my bike to the store, to get some beers, and then there was this big bolt of lightning. I guess it must have hit me, and then I came off and rolled under a parked car or something. When I came round, I tried to get up, but my hand was, like… stuck to the car or something. At first I thought someone had superglued it there, for a prank, but when I tried pulling it free, my other hand got stuck as well. I kept trying to pull them free, and then… I dunno what happened. There was this big flash, and then the next thing I know, the… car's in the house…" He looked totally perplexed as he finished.

Martin casually gestured at the other car, which was now being loaded onto a tow truck. "And the other car?"

Aaron shrugged and shook his head. "I think it was about to run me over - I dunno, I was still shocked from the first thing - but then suddenly, it… I dunno, it's like it… crashed into thin air or something." He have Martin a concerned look. "Is the driver okay?"

Martin responded with a shrug of his own. "I dunno, man, I only just got here," he said. Turning his head, he called out to the driver of the tow truck. "Hey! What happened to the driver of that car?"

"Uhh, I think he got taken to hospital," said the tow truck driver. "He seemed more shocked than anything else, he'll be fine."

Martin looked back at Aaron. "There you go," he said. "Nobody got hurt. Kinda lucky, really, I mean-" He glanced back at the destroyed house and let out a low whistle, before hurriedly turning his attention back to Aaron. "I mean, not like it was your fault or anything. Awakenings are pretty much uncontrollable, nothing you coulda done about it." He took yet another look at the devastation. "Well, anyway… given the level of damage, I'd say you're easily a Tier 3, possibly Tier 4, depending on what your power actually is. Right now, I'm thinking either psychokinesis, or something to do with magnetism. We'll have to check that out back at HQ."

"So is that where you'll be taking me?" asked Aaron.

"Yep," said Martin. "Don't worry, any loved ones you have will be informed of what's happened, though you're probably not gonna see 'em again for a while. Hope you understand that." Aaron nodded. He didn't have a girlfriend, and his parents lived in another town so he didn't see them that frequently to start with. Indeed, now that he thought about it, there weren't that many people in Aventura that would notice his sudden disappearance. All the better, really, if he was going to have to conceal his identity from now on.

"Alright, let's get going, then," said Martin. He stood back up again, then starting shooing the crowd. "Alright, show's over, get outta here," he called out. "Nothing more to see here, folks, go home. Everything here's taken care of." As the crowd started to disperse, Martin gestured to Aaron. "C'mon, let's go."

Aaron followed Martin to his car, a rather new-looking Mercedes-Benz. He instinctively opened the back door, but Martin said, "You can sit in the front, y'know. You're not under arrest or anything."

"I'm not sure whether that's a good idea, considering, eh…" Aaron glanced down at his hands briefly.

Martin grinned. "I don't think your choice of seat's gonna matter much if your powers choose to go haywire again," he said. "But, if you insist…"

Martin got in the driver's seat, and Aaron settled into the back seat, buckling himself up. As the car pulled away, Aaron suddenly remembered something. "Hey, wait… what about my bike?"

"What about it?" asked Martin, adjusting the rear-view mirror.

"Do I get a new one?" he asked. "Wait, what about the rest of my stuff?"

"We'll take care of your things, don't worry," said Martin. "But as for your bike… well, let's just say you won't be needing it anymore."

"Why not?" asked Aaron.

"Let me put it to you this way," said Martin. "You ever seen a superhero ride a motorbike?"

Aaron had to pause for a moment to think about it. "No, actually," he said eventually, "I don't think I have."

"There's a good reason for that," said Martin, "the reason being they're not very safe. So if you need transportation, we'll get you a car."

Aaron didn't seem too enthusiastic about this idea until he remembered which famous hero drove a car. "You mean like a Batmobile or something?" asked Aaron. "With all the gadgets and stuff?"

"Depends," said Martin. "If you need a car like that, then yeah, sure."

"Why wouldn't I need a car like that?" asked Aaron.

"Let me put it to you this way," said Martin. "Does Superman drive a car?"

"No," conceded Aaron. "But Superman can fly, and I can't."

Martin smirked, looking right into the reflection of Aaron's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Can'tcha?" he asked. "You know that for certain?"

Aaron shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I don't."

Martin nodded, turning his attention back to the road. "We'll see," he said. "By the way, I don't think I caught your name."

"Aaron," said Aaron. "Aaron Price."

"Nice to meet ya, Aaron," he said. "You seem like a nice guy. I'm sure you'll make a fine superhero."

"We'll see," said Aaron, a little skeptical.

"We will," said Martin, nodding.