I turned toward the voice, hearing the distinct sound of steel scraping on stone, and saw him emerging from the shadows, the jingle of tiny bells ringing out with each step. He was not particularly tall, and he was gaunt, but I could feel an aura of menace I couldn't explain. His face was covered by a solid clown mask. I couldn't even see eyes, covered by some sort of mesh, and the jingling noise was from bells hanging from what looked like the nightmarish cousin of a jester's cap. I couldn't see any skin or defining features

The whole outfit was a mottled black and red as he slowly stalked in my direction, rasping once more, "You have no idea how happy I am to meet you!"

Fuck! I knew who this was. Reaver. He'd shown up out of nowhere a couple of years ago, killing heroes with that giant scythe he was dragging behind him. There were descriptions of him all over the internet, but only rare pictures, and even those were silhouettes like he was posing for them.

I noped out as hard as I could, taking off at a sprint, then nearly died as he appeared in front of me, swinging a weapon that had to be at least ten percent of his total body weight like it weighed the same as a Nerf sword. I managed to hop back just in time as the swing came down, but any hope I had that it would get stuck vanished, as it cut through pavement like butter. There was an opening, though, and I shot forward, catching him in the back around the kidneys. He started to head toward the ground, only for the scythe to shoot up, righting him to land, "Good, I was so hoping you wouldn't be a bore. Now, before we continue, any parting words for your loved ones?"

I still had my phone, and helpfully, there was a panic button. Unfortunately, there weren't any heroes in Portland. The best we had was a low-level psychic therapist and a guy who was only here some of the time who could assess powers by touch. Yeah, great. I hit the panic button anyway since it would at least summon cops. In time or not remained to be seen. Running was out, I couldn't outrun instant transmission.

Reaver did not immediately come forward, instead a black tendril erupted from his hand, and I wasn't fast enough this time, focused on the weapon. The tendril wrapped around my forearm and pulled tight, but not enough to pull me. Shit, something's wrong.

So far, he could appear out of nowhere, use that black tendril, and wield a scythe that should be tipping him over when he swings. No cast time, he just did it. These were powers, not magic, not chi, not psychic. All of those required a degree of concentration for physical stuff. But he somehow didn't have the strength to pull me?

On a snap decision, I shot forward, going with the tentacle. It was like with Mackenzie, I needed to close because he had reach on me, just like I had reach on my sister. I didn't get all the way there, but I closed inside the arc of the scythe, grabbing the haft, and with the slack, struck it with my other hand while pulling it toward me... I might as well have tried to punch down a vault door for all the good it did, and felt the shock up my whole arm. Reaver tsked at me, "Aw, such a good effort. Sadly, a meaningless one."

The scythe disappeared from my hand, along with its owner, and I rolled forward in time for the scythe to just barely miss my back. How had I- Ooh, the bells. An ornament, but when he ported, they shifted, jingling. He would keep driving the fight this way, blinking back and forth to try and catch me with my guard down. Interestingly, I realized this actually narrowed the field of attack, and he held the scythe in his right hand. I just needed him to port again. Well, I got my wish, and instead of dodging out, I did a back roundhouse as high as I could throw it. I either hit, and foiled his attack, or I die here.

I felt it connect, and something broke loose on the side of the mask as he fell away, and I hoped that was... "FUCK!"

I caught him dead in the temple, but he was back up instantly, the mask now hanging half off his face. As far as I knew, I was the first person that had seen his face. I saw one green eye, and I could see the first trickle of blood along where the strap on the side had snapped. But somehow, the bastard was up, and I could see one half of a psychotic grin, and he howled out in cackling laughter, "YES! FINALLY! Someone worth the fight!"

Being acknowledged by a psychotic clown? Not precisely how I saw my night going. A saying from my Uncle Jimmy popped into my head, "When seconds matter, the cops are only minutes away."

My phone let out a blare, the alert signal for a supervillain attack. My panic button had gotten through, but I couldn't hear sirens yet. The clown was still smiling, and I needed time, "We don't have to do this. I never even wanted these powers, and I've got no interest in being a hero. You've got the wrong guy."

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The fingertips of his free hand went up to where his lips would be if the mask weren't there, "Ho, ho, ho! The Shield of the Gods speaks! Calloo, callay young Aegis."

The grin turned demonic as he dropped into form, and I just noticed something, something wrong with his voice... no, the way his mouth was moving. It was almost like his voice was dubbed, "But don't worry, child. If you don't want your powers, then by all means, I'll be happy to relieve you of them!"

He charged, cackling again, but I knew what was coming. He blipped again, and this time I wheeled into it, connecting an uppercut into his diaphragm, and he flew back, this time hitting a three-point landing, scythe up behind him as his hand and feet rode along the ground, "That shit won't work on me again. I'll say it once more: I don't want to hurt you, and I don't need to. We can talk."

His head went to the side, but like an inch too far, and he tsked again, slowly walking a semi-circle around me, "I have to confess, these things don't usually take so long. No mindless speech about how you'll bring me to 'justice'? No oath to take me down? Or how my 'reign of villainy is at an end', but here you are, fighting despite not wanting to."

"It's the last thing I want to do, but it's still on the list. Why come for me?" He was talking, I just had to buy time. He had been caught in the temple, had the wind knocked out of him, and he was still...

"Nevermind... I've got it. You're agile, you can flawlessly wield that scythe, near-pain immunity, the tendril, and the porting. You steal powers, don't you? You aren't here for me, you're here for the 1%." I am sounding so much braver than I am. I'm terrified because no matter what I did, the powers he held were beyond my own capabilities. Sooner or later, he'd wear me down, it was a matter of time. I couldn't get the advantage fast enough, and he wasn't even breathing hard.

He held up his free hand, and gave me a golf clap with the scythe hand. I could break blocks in karate, both with my hand, and my foot. He should be wheezing on the ground, but he just seemed amused by the whole thing, "Congratulations, Aegis! I am so proud of you! The others never worked it out, but then, they were so very busy trying to play their little bit parts as heros, but you're not one of them, are you? You're both so on point, and terribly wrong at the same time. At first, I saw you as I saw those other puffed-up buffoons, getting drunk on your own image, but then, I watched you.

He stalked around me as I stood still. There was no real point in trying to stay facing him since he would just inevitably try to teleport to where I couldn't see him. It was a waste of energy to keep turning my body, so I just maintained eye contact as best I could, "You watched me?"

"Yes, I saw you, looking for a way to change things, to break this stagnant world. I saw you give food to the homeless, saw you volunteer your time for Father Patrick, and saw you reject easy fame and glory. You asked for nothing, not even praise or thanks. You are a man of ideals, Aegis, so much more fun than the rabble choking the world with its stagnant order."

I'd delayed long enough. I hadn't heard sirens because the cops hadn't kicked theirs on, keeping the lights off, so that until the headlights came into view around the corners he couldn't see them, and suddenly the lights were everywhere. He tsked a final time, "Well, it seems some people have crashed our party, and positively ruined our date. Afraid I really must dash. We will have to do this again soon, young Aegis."

He disappeared as cops came out of cars brandishing guns, and did not reappear. One of the officers came forward while the rest maintained cover, looking around for him futilely, "You okay, kid?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm good. Don't think he got me. Reaver's come to town."

While I did see Aimee poke her head out, I was in police custody, and they weren't letting anyone close. They had a sketch artist talk to me, but I just asked for their pad and pencil and sketched every detail of his face that I'd seen. The PBS specials had paid off in an unexpected way. Next, came the representative for the H.A.A., some guy named John to see if I was alright, and basically just reasking the same questions as the cops. I had held back some things from the cops, however, and as John finished up, I caught his arm, "We need to talk. Privately."

He nodded, invoked some sort of special regulation, and took me to his car, "Alright, what is it?"

"There's something wrong with this whole incident, and I don't think the sketch is gonna help. He had at least three abilities that I saw, the scythe, the teleportation, and the black tendril. Top agility, a bit ahead of me, really. Nothing I did seemed to phase... no... wait, that's incorrect," I was going over it when some of the details caught up with me. I'd been answering questions, but being asked things forces you to think.

John was patient if nothing else, "What's incorrect?"

"I'm pretty sure I only got one hit in that whole fight."

"According to the cops, you hit him twice, not that that isn't impressive in itself, especially given it's your first time going up against a supervillain," John remarked as he was taking notes.

"No, I was wrong. I only hit one time, right at the beginning of the fight, after I got caught by the tendril. Reaver isn't the guy, it's the scythe!" Reaver wasn't immune to pain, it didn't have pain.