I sat in my shed, fiddling around with my measly negative energy generator, whilst the mini–TV I’d set up in the corner of the room played a Bugle News broadcast. I watched intently as they spoke about me and the aptly named, Sandman. They were better at giving names to things than I was for sure. The three hosts spoke amongst themselves following a segment about metahuman issues in and around the country. The segment had focused on rumours circulating about the disappearance of the Vanguard and possible anti-metahuman legislation, but now that the hosts were talking amongst themselves, they seemed to be focused on me and Sandman in particular.

I sat there listening to what they were saying, as they were insulted Spider-Man. It was weird. It didn’t bother me. Maybe it should’ve. I didn’t know, it just felt like they didn’t believe it. Or maybe it was because I was too happy I’d actually helped people to care. I shifted in my seat and winced, grabbing my back. I chuckled a bit, setting everything down, before slowly straightening out. I stretched a bit before releasing a sigh and rested my head against the table. I closed my eyes and turn to face the sunlight, letting it warm my face as it filtered through the ajar shed door.

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I felt peaceful. In tune with the world for the first time in a while. It felt good, even if I knew it wouldn’t last. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt like this, and it probably wouldn’t be the final time either. The same was probably true Things would probably get harder, but I’d worked through fears once. I could do it again. I sat up, opening my eyes and glanced over at my new costume. It lay on the workstation, the thin line of sunlight that hit it creating a red glow. I felt myself start to smile. I stood up, switched off the tv and picked up my new mask staring at it. Now was as good a time as any to go on patrol. An entire city of people needed help. That meant I had a lot of catching up to do.