In this world, Superheroes rose to fight the good fight. They were a response to the terror wicked Evildoers would create. One of the first true Superheroes to ever emerge was Bright Boy, a young lad clad in white, yellow, and blue who could emit light from his body. He didn't suffer a tragic upbringing at the hands of Supervillains. When asked why he even bothers fighting, he would only say,

"Because it was the right thing to do."

It was his kindness and compassion that inspired others to rise up. He forged the path of heroism and has become the golden standard every Superhero dreams of living by.

That is why every hero school has at least a memoriam of Brightboy, from something as small as his symbol to as large as a statue in his honor. Paladin's Academy, which was founded by Bright Boy and the Coalition of Heroes, remains his greatest heroic achievement.

White Mask rubs his eyes after reading the plaque beside Bright Boy's statue as he coughs and wipes it clean with a rag and alcohol. After their bombastic lunch at the dorm, White Mask and his 'friends' head on over to what is known as Heroes Pavillion. A small portion of Paladin's Academy is dedicated to the legacy of Superheroes as a whole.

The building itself is separated from the rest of the school and administration. The exterior features the same color scheme of white and blue; however, the architecture is a bit dated. Its smoother slopes and friendly shape make it look more like a home than a building.

On the inside, it features seven golden statues. Dedicated to the founders of the Coaliton of Superheroes. Elsewhere, the artifacts of heroes are stored in glass. As well as photos from every era of heroism. By the Bronze Age, statues are replaced by Holograms.

While the Pavillion honors the legacy of heroes, most who end up in the Pavillion have sacrificed their lives for the greater good. One room is dedicated to all those Overlord had murdered during his vicious tyranny. His victims could not even fit the writing on the wall.

"HEY!" TK Julia snaps, "you've been staring at Bright Boy's statue for FIVE MINUTES!"

White Mask follows the noise and shakes his head. He softly slaps himself to regain focus.

"I get it tho," Fortune remarks, "he is like the Superhero of Superheroes. Hailed as the strongest of his time."

"And he wears that suit sooooo well," Abaddon snickers, "he's one of the only ones who can pull off the outside underwear look."

White Mask ignores the comments and moves on to the statue next to Bright Boy, and stops dead in his tracks. Before him is the statue of Noir Knight, the iron-masked detective. He sports a classic 1930s black trenchcoat with a white collared shirt. What stood out about him was his helmet, modeled after a medieval knight's; it was shiny silver and very smooth.

"God Damn it!" Julia screams, "if you're going to do this with every statue, I swear to God!"

"There's only seven of them," Abaddon mentions.

"I had an action figure of this guy," White Mask whispers.

"Who gives a shit?!" Julia snaps.

"Wait a minute," Fortune scans White Mask, "you lowkey resemble the guy."

White Mask looks at Fortune, then at the statue. His mouth drops to the floor. Holy shit.

"I mean, the trench coat. The armor? So Silver Age," Abaddon rolls his eyes.

"Well, how about that," Julia giggles, "Noir Boy Jr."

"Shut up, Techno-Knight," White Mask retorts. Julia punches his arm.

After a few more minutes, hours, the whole day. After a whole day of bickering, the punished can finally clock out. Tired in both body and mind, White Mask returns to the dorm and falls onto the couch. Ignoring Magnetic Monopole, Smokescreen, and Wildlife watching the news.

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"How was service?" Wildlife gleefully asked.

"Same as always."

"At least you only got three more days?" M.M wonders.

"And then it's back to classes ugh," Smokescreen sighs.

The three turn their attention to the news.

"In Superhero news, a large surge of Supervillain activity has erupted since that attack on Avalon's Facility. Costumed fiends have yet again started to terrorize their local town, crippling both the heroes and the police."

"Public Opinion on Superheroes is dwindling, especially after the fight in the heart of Boston between no.1 Hero Streetwise and those Terrible Three. It was one of the biggest battles since the reign of the dastardly Overlord. The damages they caused goes upwards of two hundred thousand dollars, with over fifty injured."

"In an effort to regain the public's trust, Paladin's Academy has just announced they will be continuing their Festival uninterrupted. Safely assuring the majority that this resurgence means nothing to the grand legacy of the Academy."

"Folks, while it does seem like a dark time, we have seen darker. This little spike in activity should not worry you in the slightest. For our Heroes will still stand triumphant in the faces of Evil."

The news segment ends and goes to a commercial. White Mask quietly stands up, leaves the lounge, and heads for the stairs.

He makes it to the third floor, where he resides at the end of the hallway. While passing by, something catches his ears.

"To the Light I go. Like a flame to a-"

He furiously slams the door.

"Shut the fuck up," White Mask whispers.

The chanting stops for all but a moment. He scoffs and walks to his room.

White Mask's dorm room was on the smaller end. His table was a mess, with papers and trinkets scattered everywhere. There was barely enough space for his laptop, which had some missing keys and a cracked screen. On the floor were basic tools he could use to repair his mechanized gauntlets, and in the corner was a mannequin, which held his costume.

Posters of other superheroes adorned his walls, all of whom were active during the Silver Age. There was Syncope, the heatwave hero, adorned with dark grey, lime green, and silver. Next was Magnitude, the earthquake hero, whose suit was bright yellow and red. And last was Noir-Knight, the iron-masked detective. Below said poster was the action figure of Noir, a bit worn down but still recognizable.

The night that changed his life forever.

"Trevor!" Maria gasped, "have you been dumpster diving again?"

"Huh?" A young Trevor spoke, "no?"

"You smell awful," Maria laughs, "you didn't even change."

Maria continued to eat dinner with Trevor as the two exchanged stories of their day. This was back during Overlord's reign of doom when Supervillains had no one to oppose them. The heroes of the bronze age were either too weak to fight or were buried six feet under. Only few dared to oppose his rule.

Even with the presence of Supervillains, life finds a way to continue as normal. Trevor's mom, Maria, was a nurse down at the local clinic at Hell's Kitchen. When she has a shift, he would either be at the public school or playing with his friends in the alleyways. They lived together in a small apartment, just big enough for one of them.

After dinner, Maria tucks Trevor into the bed and kisses him on the forehead.

"Do me a favor and stop going through garbage," Maria smiles, "if you really want something, I could just work a few more nights."

"No!" Trevor quietly screams, "I can get stuff for us too!"

"Don't worry about that. Just do your homework instead."

"Okay," Trevor sighs, as he hugs one one of the pillows.

"What's wrong?"

"You don't have to work so hard if Dad was still here."

"Oh Trevor," Maria hugs him, "your Dad is on a super secret mission. Working with other Superheroes to bring down Overlord."

"But he could send us money or something."

"He could," Maria looks away, "but he's super focused on his job. Once this is all over, he's going to come back and buy you all the things you want."

"Anything?" Trevor asked with bright eyes.

"Anything," Maria kisses him on the cheek, "now it's time to go to bed, young man. You have school tomorrow."

"Okay, I love you."

"I love you too."

Maria leaves, and Trevor closes his eyes. As the door closes, he opens one eye and stares out the window. Trying to catch any glimpse of Superheroes patrolling the area. Before he could, he dozes off.

The floorboard creaks. Footsteps slowly walk around.

The door opens, and a table falls.

Muffled screams.

Police sirens.

"There's a kid here who looks to be around ten."

Trevor rubs his eyes and groggily sits up. His ears ringing from all the noise. He can barely make out what the policeman is saying.

"Hey buddy, what's your name?"

"Trevor. What's going on?"

"Hi Trevor, my name is Officer Sanchez, a policeman from the NYPD."

Officer Sanchez removes his cap and holds it near his chest.

"What's going on?"

"We had a call about a breaking and entering at this place. A supervillain was here."

Trevor tightly hugs the pillow, "A bad guy?"

"Yeah, a bad guy."

"Where's my mom?"

Officer Sanchez looks away.

"I'm so sorry, Trevor. Your mom was very brave, but she... she didn't make it."

That night, while he was asleep, his mother, Maria, was killed.

White Mask opens his cabinet door, revealing a whole board dedicated to the Supervillain who took her away. Any reports or sightings have been hung across. Anything he could find, it was on the wall. On the center, one newspaper clipping, highlighted with red markers, reads,

"Another Victim of the Demon Nocturne."