John Bensmener was startled out of his sleep by the blaring of his alarm clock. He kept his eyes pressed shut, hoping that the sound would go away on its own. Surely, this had to be a bad dream. He had just fallen asleep minutes ago. When the blaring sound didn’t go away, however, John turned, and groggily looked at the time on his clock. 6:00 AM.
With a groan of disappointment, John turned his alarm off, before pushing himself out of bed. Stumbling his way out of bed, John found himself wishing that he hadn’t drank so much last night. His wish was in vain, however. He would find himself in the bottle again tonight, no doubt. It was something of a routine, these days.
As he was pulling on his pants, John found himself wishing he retired 20 years ago, like he had planned. But his employers had made him an offer that sounded good, at the time. It was for a new position, a prestigious one. Plus, his spending had left him without a lot of money.
So he had taken the job. If he could go back, do it again, he’d refuse. John could’ve scraped by being broke, done something else for a bit. Younger him had obviously thought differently. Not that there was much he could do about it now, though. He was locked into his contract until his employers deemed fit to release him, although he supposed that he could just disappear. They’d send somebody to get him, of course, but he’d be too much trouble to bring back by force. Maybe someday, hopefully soon, he’d make that dream a reality.
But today, he still had to go to work. He pulled on his coat, before stepping out of his apartment, and meandering his way down to the street. Callahan city was always busy, but the fact that it was 6:30 in the morning meant the early rush hour traffic made the streets feel clogged.
John joined the crowd shuffling down the stairs to the subway. He let out a resigned sigh when he saw the train. It was packed full. He’d have to wait for the next one. That maybe wouldn’t be so bad, if the subways were ever on time. But no, they were always late. It wasn’t like he could drive, either. The traffic made that so impractical as to be impossible. Plus, he had gambled his way into so much debt it would take him another decade to even be able to pay it off, let alone purchase a vehicle. So he was stuck with public transportation, despite it’s many flaws.
Eventually, however, the next train pulled into the station. He had to muscle through the crowd of people that was trying to push past him to secure a spot on the car. John wondered what had gone wrong with people, now. Back when he was younger, everyone was so much more polite. Things simply seemed to run better. Now, the cities were crowded, and the people were rude, and ungrateful.
As John took a seat on the train, the woman to his left gave him a weary glance. He didn’t blame her. He’d get a lot more than just a glance if he walked down the main street of a small town.
John’s messy gray hair hung nearly to his chin. It had lost all of its pigment nearly a decade ago, even though he only looked like a man in his mid 50’s. It wasn’t his face that was causing the women to glance at him, though.
John hadn’t really been concerned with how he dressed for a long while now. While sometimes, he was required by his employers to don a suit, often, they just let him wear what he wished. Which meant that, today, he was sporting a stained white T-shirt, ragged old jeans, and his long, black coat. Combine that with the coating of stubble dusting his face, and he looked like a drunk. That, or someone who wasn’t all there, mentally.
Nearly everyone else was ignoring him. The women must be new to the city. You’d see weirder people than him everyday, if you paid attention. Weirder things, as well. Nobody had time to stare at the shabby looking man.
Well, except for one man, sitting a few seats down. Ever so often, the guy would furtively glance at John, his gaze lingering for a few seconds, before darting back down to his phone screen. He would avert eye contact immediately, if John turned to look straight at him.
He frowned. The man might just have recognized him. He wasn’t a widely known figure, as his employers tried to keep what he did on the downlow, but word still did travel. It was possible that this man, or maybe a friend or family member, had seen John doing his job, and simply remembered his face.
However, John felt it was more likely that the man was sent to tail him, and keep an eye on what he was doing. If that were the case, then John was in for an irritating ride. He’d have to figure out who sent the man, before doing anything. If the spy was sent by his employer, he would have to do his best to ignore the man. They liked to keep tabs on their employees, especially ones as uncooperative as him. They’d certainly done it before.
Now, if the man worked for someone else, he should be firmly discouraged from his snooping. John supposed he would just have to deal with it when it came time to get off at his stop. He could determine what to do then. There was no need for him to force the issue right now.
As the subway continued to trundle along the tracks, interior lights occasionally flickering, John found himself bored. Normally, he tried to relax while riding the subway, maybe even doze off, if he could get away with it, or was feeling particularly tired that day. But the person observing him had made him too uneasy for that to happen today.
He couldn’t really do anything on his phone, either. He had one, provided by his employer, but it didn’t let him install any new apps on it. John supposed that he probably could find a way around the restrictions if he were tech savvy, but he could barely work the damn device as it was. No need to make it more complicated.
Eventually, however, the train arrived at his stop. He took one last glance at his stalker as the subway slowed to a halt, before walking off of the train. He joined a few other people, trying to get out as soon as the doors opened, hoping to avoid the rush of people that would inevitably flow in the other direction, trying to get on.
John walked over to a wall, leaning against it as he scanned the train, checking to see if the man would follow him. His eyes moved up and down the cars, past each exit. He hadn’t seen the man getting off by the time the train departed, so he probably wasn’t following John. If he were, well, then that would be a problem for later.
John was turning to walk towards the stairs that led out to the street, when he heard a shout. He turned, and saw a man in a ski mask sprinting towards the exit, a purse clutched in his hands. John frowned, quickly stepping in front of the man and delivering a powerful blow to the would-be thieves' stomach. The delinquent dropped like a stone, letting the purse go as he did. John grabbed the purse up off the ground, before tossing it to a woman who was walking in his direction as fast as she could, looking clearly distraught.
“Thank you so much. He just took it and ran off with my purse. I didn’t even know what was happening until he was already gone. Should we call the poli-”
John turned and walked away. She could call the police if she wanted. He didn’t really have time to deal with the whole mess right now, anyways. Plus, it wasn’t like the guy he’d hit would be getting up anytime soon, in all likelihood. John had hit the guy pretty hard. He wasn’t unconscious, but John might even have broken one of the guy's ribs. He would certainly be incapacitated had John hit him in the head, but that was a bad idea for a lot of other reasons.
Even with all of the years of experience that John had, it was hard to judge how much of a blow someone could take to the skull. Hit too hard, and they’d have lifelong problems, at the very best. It was pretty easy to kill a normal person, hitting them in the head.
While John didn’t really have much sympathy for pretty thieves, the man certainly hadn’t warranted death. Some bruised ribs, to give him a few months' reminder to stay on the right side of the law, sure.
He stalked up the stairs, as the lady continued to babble behind him. It was a surprisingly common reaction. A way to process what had just happened, perhaps. John had seen it from all ranges of people. Some, you’d expect, like the little old ladies. But sometimes, you’d get a huge, tatted up bear of a man doing the same. At first, it had been an odd experience, hearing people pour out the words. John hadn’t known how to react, at the time. Now, if he had time, he’d just nod, and grunt in agreement. If not, well, she’d be fine, even with him walking away.
John continued working his way deeper into the city. It was even busier here, deeper into the metropolis. He continued to collect the odd look here or there, as he walked, but for the most part people simply let him be, content to ignore him, and continue on with their day.
Eventually, he arrived at his destination. A multistoried office building, a little smaller than the buildings around it, but not by much. John felt a wave of resignation tear over him, then. Suddenly, the hustling he had done before didn’t seem worth it. They’d be damn fine if he’d been a few minutes later to show up, and he’d be happier for it.
Regardless, it was too late to procrastinate any further, for the most part. He could take his time, with the small amount of distance he had left to walk, however.
John started towards an alley on one side of the building. The fire escape sat there, rusted from decades of being neglected. He had to jump to grab the ladder, pulling it down onto the street. With another sigh, he started his ascent.
As he trudged up the fire escape, John once again wished he had retired earlier. He was too old to be doing all of this. The rusty metal structure creaked under his weight, as if it were protesting his treading on it. Not like it had any right too, though. Damn thing was never used.
As he got about half way up the building, John passed a man, probably an office worker, leaning on the railing, facing an alley, with a cigarette in his mouth. The habit was unhealthy, but if you made enough money, you could get access to some advanced super tech that some hospitals had. The stuff could heal the damage that smoking caused, if it wasn’t too bad.
As John walked past the man, at first, the worker didn’t react. After a few seconds, however, he turned his head, to see who had journeyed onto the fire escape with him. His eyes widened as he caught sight of John, his disheveled appearance at odds with the neat, but cheap, suit that the worker wore.
“Hey”, the man said. “You aren’t supposed to be up here. Hell, I should probably call security on you.”
John just waved at the man and kept walking.
“It’s fine. I’m not bothering anyone, am I?”
The worker seemed conflicted, but eventually, he determined that he wouldn’t be able to stop John with just words, and actually doing anything to impede the older man's progress up the fire escape would be too much effort. With a shrug, the worker turned, and put the cigarette back between his lips.
It took another few minutes of climbing for John to get to the top. He had made sure to walk extra slow, after all. When he summited the building, however, the roof wasn’t empty. There was a figure, dressed in unnaturally form fitting clothing atop the roof, showing off far too much, despite relatively little skin being on display.
The figure turned, revealing it was a woman in her early twenties, with blonde highlighted hair. Vortex, a former rookie hero, who had been promoted when some of the heroes were called away to go help with Calamity. She was newer to the job, and like so many of her contemporaries, she dressed in a “super suit” and they had taken to calling them. John thought that they were stupid. While the materials were often enhanced to be far more protective than they would be otherwise, the same process could be done to actual armor, which would be far more practical. The suits were both indecent, and lacking in utility. They rarely had pockets, nothing to conceal any weapons, tools, or any sort of supplies in. Hell, these newer heroes rarely carried things like that in the first place.
As Vortex turned, John caught sight of her face. She looked annoyed.
“You’re late, John. You were supposed to be here nearly ten minutes ago.”
He waved a hand at her, irritably.
“Just because my bosses think it’s a good idea to pair me with you, doesn’t mean I have to like it. And the city will survive my ten minute tardiness, I assure you. ‘Sides, I got to walk here. No convenient flight for me.”
Vortex looked like she was about to say something, but then a look of defeat crossed her face, and she shook her head.
“Fine, whatever. Do you even know what we’re supposed to be doing? Where’s your suit? Why, pray tell, are you dressed like a vagrant?”
John grunted.
“Mhm. We’re supposed to head to the Callahan city bank. WSC thinks that there’s going to be a problem, today. And I don’t have a “super suit”. These are my work clothes. Now, do you have any more questions, or are you through with interrogating me?”
Vortex sighed again, mumbling quietly under her breath.
“I thought this guy they partnered with was supposed to be impressive, a notable figure. I would have even settled for almost competent. Instead, I get a disheveled bum who reeks of alcohol. Just great.”
John turned, starting to walk back towards the fire escape.
“Suppose it’s true, then, what they say about not meeting your heroes.”
Vortex watched him walk towards the fire escape for a few seconds, before seemingly thinking better of it. Undoubtedly, if she let him walk by himself, he’d take as long as he possibly could.
“No you don’t! I will not have you making us any later than we’re already going to be. Come here, and I’ll use my powers to get us down.”
Slowly, John turned, and plodded back over. Vortex grabbed his shoulder, and marched him towards the edge of the roof. John didn’t resist. When he stepped over the side, he, for a split second, started to fall towards the ground, before a vortex of air appeared, surrounding him, and Vortex herself, slowing their descent.
Despite his disapproval with the state of modern heroes, Vortex was pretty powerful, for somebody so new. As her name suggested, she could create vortexes, masses of whittling air, that she could use to move stuff, or fire off like blasts. Her power and work ethic had made her pretty popular, ever since she was made a full hero.
Even with the air slowing their descent, they made it to street level far faster than John would have climbed down. He shot Vortex a look, as they settled onto the sidewalk.
“Not going to fly us over? I thought you didn’t want us to be late.”
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Vortex rolled her eyes.
“God, you are such an asshole. I’m strong, but not strong enough to fly both of us over there without tiring out. They expect trouble, remember? I need to be in good enough shape to fight, if needed.”
Vortex looked around the street, searching for something.
“You didn’t really walk here, did you? You have a car?”
John just laughed.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It took them nearly half an hour to walk to the bank. It was a big building, with large, glass windows at the front. Although they looked fragile, they were likely reinforced far beyond regular glass. The first room in the building was a security checkpoint. The floors looked like marble, and there was a large row of metal detectors in the middle of the room. A guard sat behind a desk, and when they walked in the door, he shot them a suspicious look. It wasn’t every day that one saw a hero and vagrant going into a bank, after all.
The guard had a badge on his chest, one that clearly marked him as a super. While supers were decently rare, bigger franchises could afford to hire them, even for things as menial as security. In fact, it was almost mandatory. Even with super tech, without an actual super present on the premises, it was almost guaranteed that some thug with powers would try and rob the place, if the target was tempting enough. And Callahan bank was a tempting target, indeed.
The guard grabbed the radio on his hip, bringing it to his mouth, muttering quietly, calling for the manager. After he was done with the walkie talkie, the guard had them both sit in chairs, off to the side of the security checkpoint.
Within a few minutes, a tall, suited man, middle aged, walked down the hall. He looked directly at them.
“My name’s Chase Montral. I’m the manager. Why have a couple of hero’s shown up at the bank, unannounced?”
John cursed. The WSC didn’t call ahead to tell the bank what was happening? Figures.
“We’re here on WSC business. They think that there's a possibility of a problem at your bank, today, so we’re here to keep that from happening.”
The manager looked troubled, but waved for them to follow him. Vortex made it through the metal detector fine, but it beeped loudly when John tried to step through. The security guard glared at him, as he took his flask out of his coat, and tossed it over the machine, before stepping through it. It didn’t go off, this time.
Re-pocketing his flask, he strode after Vortex and the manager. When he eventually caught up to them, they were deep in a conversation. John had an idle thought, then. The manager, a somewhat stern looking fellow, would have looked nearly exactly like a guy John used to know, if he were a few inches shorter.
“Ma’am, I assure you, our security measures are top notch. We have everything here necessary to stop all but the worst issues. Your presence here isn’t really needed.”
Vortex was having none of it.
“I doubt it. How many supers do you actually have on security? Two, maybe three? And if they’re content to work security, then they’re probably not very strong. Besides, regardless of what you, or I, think about it, the WSC has told us to be here, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it. It will be far easier for everybody if you just cooperate.”
The manager wrung his hands, and anger briefly flashed across his face, before he steeled his expression into something more neutral.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I guess there’s nothing that can be done about it. I can let you look around, I suppose, but I’ll need to keep you from disrupting our operations. And absolutely no looking at account information. That’s confidential, and if you view it without permission, we’ll have to press a lawsuit against your organization, Vortex.”
Vortex nodded.
“I’m going to look around, everywhere I can, keep an eye on things, see if anybody suspicious pulls up.”
The manager looked over at John.
“And your partner?”
John grunted.
“I’m going to take a nap.”
The manager pointed down some hallways to his left.
“There are some staff rooms down that way. Don’t go in the lobby. You look like a vagrant, and you’ll scare off all of our customers if they see you.”
Vortex shook her head, and walked off. John took his flask out of his coat, and took a swig, before ambling down towards the area he’d been directed too. Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a small, but nice space. There was nobody in the room right now. Settling down on the chair, John took another swig of alcohol, before resting his head back on his seat. Soon enough, he was asleep.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
John was awoken by the sound of some sort of blast coming from the front of the bank. With a groan, he stood up, stretching out the kinks in his neck. Guess the WSC was right. They normally were, he supposed. John longed for the time when they were wrong. It was nice not to actually have to do his job. He sighed, and walked down towards the sounds of the conflict. It was time to earn his paycheck.
As he walked, terrified bank employees, and civilians alike, were running in the other direction. Hmm, somebody was going to be in trouble. Villains, and heroes, were supposed to wait until all civilians had evacuated the premises before starting to fight. All of the long lasting villains followed the rule. Those that didn’t tended to get sentences that measured in decades. Newer villains were more likely to ignore the rule, though. They didn’t plan to get caught, after all. Nobody ever did.
When John arrived, the security checkpoint was trashed. There were multiple prone forms on the ground, both normal civilians, and people dressed in thick clothing with ski-masks. The metal detectors were warped, with one ripped off of the ground completely. The flooring was cracked, and chipped.
John heard sirens wailing in the distance. Oh good, help was on the way.
Three figures faced off in the front of the bank. One was Vortex, who looked rather battered. Violent whirls of air spun around her hands, which were up in front of her.
The two figures facing off against her were both villains, by the look of it. One was a middle aged man, with a bald head, and a large beard. He held an axe in his hand. Ahh, a familiar face. Chopper. He got enhanced speed and strength when chopping things with an axe. He was a pushover, for the most part. Take away his axe, and he was basically helpless. It was an easy win condition.
The second figure, it took John a few seconds to recognize. He stood over 7 feet tall. His whole figure looked stretched, warped, even. He had big tendrils running all across his body, that looked like they were made out of muscle fibers. A few of the tendrils drifted behind his back. These ones were topped with teeth. Gross.
He was a newer villain, if John remembered correctly. Some sort of shapeshifter? John didn’t remember his code name. Well, John supposed he could ask when he turned the villain in to the authorities.
“Hey, Vortex. You can handle the axe guy, right? I’ll take out freaky.”
At the sound of John's voice, all three turned their heads to look at him. Vortex gave a slight nod, before creating a large wind tunnel, drawing both her and Chopper deeper into the bank.
The tentacle villain turned to face John.
“The hero goes off to fight my companion, leaving me with the old man,” A smile stretched across the villain's features, visible even beneath the mask he was wearing. “She must not value your life very highly.”
John ignored the comment, choosing to ask his own question, instead.
“Hey, freaky, what’s your name?”
The villain cocked his head.
“I am called Biogenesis. Farewell, old man.”
With that pronouncement, the villain lunged towards John, cracking the floor under his feet even further. He was quite fast, crossing the distance between them in a fraction of a second.
John cocked his fist back, waiting for Biogenesis to arrive. When the villain reached him, he was already swinging towards the older man. Biogenesis' eyes widened as, instead of hitting John, his fist compressed, flattening as it entered the space in front of John, causing him to hit nothing but air.
John threw his punch then, twisting his hips to increase his force production. Unlike Biogenesis, John’s punch landed. A huge shockwave tore out from the sight of the impact, shattering every window in the front of the bank, as Biogenesis was launched backwards, flying right through the front wall of the security room, demolishing it, before landing on the street, tumbling to a stop.
John felt despair grip him, then, as the glass and concrete rained down from the huge new hole in the wall. This would get added to his debt, most likely. His employers said that he was experienced enough to control his strength when capturing weaker villains, that he should be able to avoid causing excessive damage. John felt his eyes start to tear up. He would be paying off the debt for the rest of his life, wouldn’t he?
Across the street, Biogenesis was slowly starting to stand up, shakily pushing himself to his feet. Many of the muscular tendrils that crossed his body had been severed when he had gotten hit, but they were slowly starting to reconnect.
Biogenesis coughed, a fine misting of blood coming out of his mouth. The villain swore at the sight. The tendrils that hovered behind him started to move, flicking around in an agitated fashion.
When John noticed the villain starting to regain his wits, he tore his thoughts away from all of the damage he had just caused. Taking a step forwards, he compressed the space between him and Biogenesis, turning the nearly 50 feet that separated them into just a few inches. John stepped through, before releasing the compressed space.
Biogenesis whipped his head around to stare at John, who had suddenly appeared right in front of him. Making sure to aim carefully this time, John wound up and blasted the villain down the street, away from any buildings. Once again, all of the glass around him shattered from the force of the punch. John winced, and then sighed. Oh well. You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
Down the street, it took Biogenesis longer to rise, this time. He simply laid there, a stunned expression on his face, before turning over, and vomiting blood onto the street. He used his tendrils to push himself onto his feet, this time.
John sauntered down the street towards the villain. There was no need to rush over. Biogenesis was on his last legs. One more good hit, probably, and he would go down. By the time John had made it all the way there, Biogenesis was still coughing, a terrible, wet, racking cough. That sounded pretty bad.
John leaned to the side, dodging one of the villains back tendrils, as it suddenly thrust at him. Once it impacted the concrete behind him, John grabbed it, and tugged. It tore off, with a spray of blood, and John tossed it down behind him as Biogenesis screamed.
“Oh, relax, tentacle boy. You can regenerate, you’ll be fine. Maybe don’t go trying to rob banks and kill people if you don’t want to get into fights.”
Biogenesis didn’t respond, falling to his knees instead. It was probably time to end this. John shoved his hands in his pockets, and wound one leg back. He kicked Biogenesis right in the head, knocking the villain out, sending teeth flying everywhere.
Once he was certain that Biogenesis was actually unconscious, he grabbed the villain’s prone form by the shoulder, and started dragging him back down the street, towards the entrance of the bank. The sirens were getting closer. Good, the police would be here soon, and they’d probably have something to restrain this cretin.
A few seconds after he stopped dragging Biogenesis, Vortex came out, dragging an unconscious chopper, now sans axe, behind her. Well, that was good. John wouldn’t have to worry about that fight anymore.
John was just about to say something to Vortex when he spotted a figure standing across the street, on the roof of a nearby building. Dressed in a black suit, with a featureless mask covering his face, the figure stood out. John recognized the person. He had shown up at a lot of recent villain encounters. The figure never participated, instead choosing to watch what happened.
John turned.
“Vortex, keep an eye on these two. I need to go investigate shady over there.”
With that, he compressed the space between him and the building that the figure was standing on, stepping through it. Releasing the first compression, he shrunk space again, this time vertically, making it so, effectively, the top of the building was no higher than an inch off of the ground. Stepping into the warped space, John's foot hit the roof, and soon enough, he was right in front of the mysterious figure.
John looked directly at where the guy's eyes would be, if he wasn’t wearing a mask.
“Hey, buddy. I have a few questions to ask you. Why don’t you come with me?”
The figure didn’t answer. Instead, a glowing portal opened up behind him, and the figure rapidly stepped back through it, appearing on a roof nearly a block away.
John, unwilling to let the man get away, compressed space between himself and the portal, stepping through it right before it closed. The masked man was right back in front of him, again, and this time, John wasn’t going to ask nicely. He swung towards the man's chest, fist connecting almost instantly. He felt the man's ribs crack, and the suited figure was launched backwards by the blow, a new indentation in his chest.
Before the mysterious observer could hit the ground, a portal came open behind him. John started to compress the space between himself, and the getaway portal. However, before he could take a step, before the man had even fully crossed through, in fact, the portal snapped shut, severing the man’s legs, and leaving John no way to reach him.
“Well, I’ll be damned. He really didn’t want to be here.”
Looking at the legs, John figured he should grab them. He could probably get Bloodhound to take a look at them, maybe track down whoever they belonged to. He walked over, and picked them up, before walking to the edge of the roof, compressing the space so that walking off the buildings felt no different than stepping off of a curb.
After that, he walked towards the flashing lights of the police cruisers, parked in front of the bank. John decided to turn the legs over to them. He could get them back later. When he arrived a few minutes later, he walked into the middle of the cluster of police cars. One of the officers tried to stop him, probably thinking that he was some random drunk, but Vortex called out, explaining that he was with her.
With a shrug, the officer stepped aside, letting John pass. Vortex stepped closer, obviously intending to talk to him, but after a second she stopped, a horrified expression on her face. What was she on about now? John followed her gaze, and saw that she was looking at…
Ahh, the pair of severed legs he was holding. Yeah, that made sense.
“Relax, Vortex. He cut his own legs off, trying to get away. I grabbed them to see if we could get somebody to track him down.”
Vortex still looked uncertain, but the explanation seemed to satisfy her, for now. John wandered over to a nearby officer, and turned the legs over, before returning back to Vortex.
“How was fighting Chopper?”
She shrugged, and a quick smile flashed across her face.
“Once I wasn’t getting double teamed, he was light work. I should ask you how your fight went. You’re bleeding from your nose. Did you get hit?”
John brought his finger up, and wiped it under his nose. Inspecting it, he saw a trace of red on it. Dammit. He had used his powers too much, today. If only he hadn’t crippled them, all of those years ago.
John sighed. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, anymore. Plus, even if he could go back in time, he’d still make the exact same choice he had before. It just smarted that his powers were on a limit, now.
“I’m fine, Vortex. Anyways, I’m going to go take a drink. You can handle the rest of this, I presume?”
Vortex sighed, shook her head, and then nodded.
“Yeah, whatever.”
John strode off, pulling his flask from his coat. Well, for the most part, that had ended well. Except for all of the property damage. He’d blame that on Biogenesis, if he could.
John just hoped that the situation with the masked man wrapped up easily. It had been a long time since he’d had to take a fight seriously, and he planned to keep it that way. At the very least, there was some good news. Another heavy hitter would be coming to Callahan city, after the event with Calamity was over. He’d have his former apprentice here to help.
What did he call himself, again? Wasn’t it something like the Crimson Blade?