The nightmares had gotten bad. Bloody and violent reminders of my past and the horrible things I’ve done in it. This was something else though. I slept–soundly. I slept peacefully. There weren't any terrifying encounters with my oldest sister, there weren’t any phantom memories accusing me of killing everything ever. It was just a sound slumber. Something I hadn’t had in ages. I woke up relaxed. My body ached like an eighteen thruster had plowed into it but compared to the other times I trauma passed out–this was pleasant. I was laying on a comfortable couch. I only knew it was a couch right away because I could feel the back support. It was a futon but somehow a nice and comfortable one, or maybe I’d been in such slumber bliss that my brain interpreted it as comfortable.

I stretched my arms up in an attempt to wake myself further, pain shot through them. Ouch. That's right. The last thing I’d remembered before what felt like the endless darkness was pain. I’d been impaled right? The shadowshard blade that stuck in and out through me. Something about Lines? No it was Trophy Hunter, that was it. I’d have to look them up once I returned home. It surely must have only been the next morning. I could see the vague sunlight beaming through the windows. The curtains had all mostly been pulled, most likely because of my presence there but I didn’t hear any of the usual morning sounds coming from outside.

I stretched again, trying to sit up this time as my body shot itself back down. Holy shit I was in a lot more pain than I’d realized.

“Please stop moving. You don’t wanna know how long it took me to get you into the bare state you’re in.” Simon “Syphon” Frost spoke for the first time in years. He stood there standing over me, leaning in from behind the couch. A coffee mug held in his hand. His arms had gotten bigger than I remembered. His hair was tucked under a beanie as he gave me a worried smile through that stubble of his. His voice was deep, but soft. It only just then dawned on me as I started frantically looking for the mask.

He continued, “Don’t worry, I have that safe. It’s put away. Relax, kid. No one even knows you’re here. Only one person heard the knocking last night and as far as they were concerned. You’re a friend of my daughter’s.” He smiled as he sipped some of that tea, which smelled amazing.

“Dau–Daughter? You have a daughter? Why am I only now just finding this out?” I asked through a cough, which hurt like hell as I finally settled back down into that gray couch. He raised an eyebrow at me and chuckled.

“No. No. Absolutely not. You disappeared without contact for a couple of years, AJ. There’s something a little more pressing here that needs to be discussed before the fact that I have a daughter. When did–this happen?” He asked, gesturing vaguely at my entire body. I laughed.

“When did that happen, Simon?” I grinned, I wanted to hear him ask it. He sighed a bit.

“When did the ughm, You have boobs now, AJ.” He was just cutting to the chase here, which was fine. It had been a few years and the last time he saw me, I was a boy. The last time we saw each other also involved a firefight between us and Fear Patrol. Our relationship has been something of an enigma to me. We started as rivals, in fact, Syphon was one of my very first rivals as darkfire. He’d been one of Industry’s up and comers in the villains department, it’s a huuuge market here–especially when you consider all the crime lords that exist and the vastness of the city itself. Syphon had come up through the ranks the same way I did only, instead of taking a turn for the crime side of things, I took a turn for the vigilante side of things. At this point though, the way the city officials treat darkfire, I could have just gone the easier route and become a villain. I’d have gotten the same results–but that stupid little voice in the back of my head always reminds me that mom and dad would have been disappointed in me and so would my brother, so in their memory and honor, I continue to do what I do the way I do it. Syphon, on the other hand, was an orphan. He grew up poor and felt his only options as a biochem-ability was a road of freelance work. He wasn’t a villain per say, though he’d like to think he is. I’d argue he’s just a gun for hire with a very specific set of bio engineering skills. He’s also a damned good computer wiz, and taught me most of what I know, even if inadvertently. I hadn’t known that he had a daughter though, He must have had one back then too and just never said anything. Of course, why would you tell the vigilante that at one time had promised to put you in The Basement, that you had a child? I guess it made sense. Our friendship has developed since then, until I went dark for a couple years. We both just lost contact with each other and quite frankly I thought he retired. Guess not.

“Ohhhhh, right.” I laughed, which again hurt. “Yeah, so that's been the case for the last couple of years now Simon. I transitioned about back when you went AFK.” I nodded.

“You, transitioned? I mean I suppose I see that. I didn’t even realize that was something you were thinking about. Congratulations are in order, would you care for some tea?” A smile leapt across his face. I nodded.

“Yes please. Thanks, Yeah, it was something I’d wanted for a long time and when I was finally able to, I jumped on it. And here we are, boobs and all.” I gestured very slightly to my body, which I only just realized was laying wrapped in a blanket in my bra and sweats. I looked at myself and could see that most of the blood was either dried or cleaned up and I had several bandages wrapped clumsily around the wound. My black bra and black sweats were relatively untouched, though entirely stained. I appreciated the fact that he went ahead and patched me up though, it was honestly a super sweet gesture.

“I'll get that going for ya. Don’t worry, by the way-” He nodded at me. “I didn’t touch anywhere, ya know. Inappropriate. You pretty much guided everything. You’d woken up a few times and I assisted where you asked me to. You’ve been knocked out here for three days now. More or less of course.” He went back to where I assumed was the kitchen.

“I’ve been out for days? That wasn’t yesterday?” I was shocked.

“Yeah, well you were basically dying. I know your heat gives you some healing, but dude. You were literally dying.” His voice carried through the room. I hadn’t even looked around to see what kind of room I was in, let alone who all else was here. He’d said no one else knew I was here but that didn’t mean anything. I tried to look around again but the pain reminded me that laying down was better. A small little hoovering Jefferson unit came by and disappeared behind me, back towards where he had been. I’d have to upgrade mine to do that sometime.

“So, you’re not retired anymore?” I asked, fixing the blankets to wrap myself like a burrito.

“I never retired.” He laughed from the other room. “I died.” He said coldly.

“Im sorry, come again, you did what now?” My mouth hung open.

“I died, officially. You remember the specter job that you told me was a little too much for someone to handle alone, even with my skills?” His voice sounded more and more sing-songy.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” I started.

“I absolutely did. You should have already figured that one out. Anyway, one thing led to another, something about you being right. It was a botched job from the start. I got shot a few dozen times by some drones, and ended up in The Basement for a bit.”

“Gods, I told you. I told you that was a terrible idea.” I coughed.

“You did. Anyway, while in The Basement. Well. It’s a wonder what biochemistry as a birth ability can do for you. I did a little cell manipulation and the system scanned me as a corpse, a damn fine specimen of a corpse, if I might say so myself.” He finished with a smile, rounding the couch and handing a tea down to my level so I didn’t have to reach far. I smiled and could already feel myself blushing.

“You–faked your own death and now you’re what–living out of this old workshop?” I asked, a little confused by my former nemesis’s plan here. I burned my lips on the tea, I’d been so preoccupied in thought that I forgot to blow on it.

“Well, you know as well as I do that when someone dies in The Basement they’re removed from the system, both digitally speaking and–”

“Physically.” We both said together.

“Why don’t people just–” I started.

“Pretend to die more often? They do actually, but not everybody has literal bio cell manipulation. AJ, you need to understand that those scanning systems they've got there, the whole damned system in that place, is sophisticated as shit.” He said, cutting me off and sitting the wrong way in a chair next to me. He’d grabbed a chair from the long wooden work bench that sat underneath the large studio style windows. This place was an amazing workshop, if I hadn’t already had a bunker, I’d probably opt for something like this. I love my bunker though, I’m fine.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Yeah I’ve heard..horror stories of that place. Trust me. I know people there, Simon.” I said through a mouthful of tea.

“I’m aware.” He nodded. ‘Anyway, so, transitioning huh? I truly am glad for you. You look great if I may say so.” He started jotting some notes onto a holo tablet that seemed a little small in his hands.

“Thanks! I appreciate it. It's taken a long while to get used to, I’m still not entirely yet. Enough about me though, what about this daughter of yours?” I asked.

“Oh right, yeah she’s–” Red flashes interrupted him. A Silent alarm tripped. The lights flickered in a rhythmic pattern as the Jefferson Bot started sending various beeps and clicks to Simon's own watch. We both had the same idea. Of course all Jefferson units in the city were capable of connecting to the Jefferson Assistant AI app, but it was still convenient nonetheless. I Forced myself up, set the mug, which I only just then realized said “WORLDS OKEST DAD” on it–onto the table, and tried to stand. Simon waved me back down.

“What's going on?” I asked, once again instinctively looking for the mask. He caught on, grabbed it from where it was and tossed it to me. He’d washed it for me. I smiled faintly as I slipped it on and there I was, swapping from that young girl talking to an old friend, who’d apparently been a dad now, to darkfire. It's as if all else slips away from me and I become some supernatural being. A supernatural being that was still in a fuckton of pain.

“Stay put you idiot.” I hissed in the back of my head. It’s almost as if the mask itself talks. I know that isn’t the case, it’s purely psychological, but sometimes it feels that way. Stacy was right though, I should probably see a therapist at some point about all this. I did, however, stay put.

“Nightly patrol.” Simon said, grabbing a mask of his own that resembled a retro looking gas mask, though I’m sure it was especially designed for his own abilities. He now wore the mask along with a piece of techwear that resembled a scorpion of some sort. He quickly tossed on a black lab coat and there he was. Simon also swapped before my eyes into Syphon. Vigilante and rival sat feet apart. I raised an eyebrow under the mask.

“Nightly patrol of what exactly?” I asked, continuing. “ Fear?”

“Nah, those guys rarely come through here, just the sniper chick and occasionally that new cryo that’s on her team. No, these guys are different. Scavengers mostly. They raid abandoned districts for old tech. Scrappers mostly. I wouldn’t normally be concerned about them but I’ve been tracking one of them specifically with a bounty on their head.” He said, opening one of the blinds with the weird looking gun he was holding.

“You’re picking up specific bounties now?” I asked, struggling to stand, but instantly falling right back down with a heavy flop to it that hurt my shoulder.

“Stop trying to get up, you’re fine here. Once these guys pass by I’ll get you home so you can rest proper. I need you to make sure you do, because those wounds you sustained aren’t going to be doing you any favors anytime soon if you don't take care of them now. Do you understand me?” He asked, his voice dropping. I nodded. There was no use arguing this here.

“I’m going to go out there, see if my guy is with this clown crew and I’ll be back-here. Keep an eye on me through the JeffersonBot. There’ll be live footage left here.” He pointed to the screen monitor on the unit. I know how a cam system works, but I nodded anyway. He Threw on a cloak like jacket, some kind of street wear and headed out. The Jefferson unit posted next to me and hoovered with flashy little color changing lights.

“Hey there.” I said in a soft voice, I took my mask off, since I figured I wasn’t going to be going anywhere outside or doing anything beyond sitting there. Jefferson smiled at me from under the monitor screen. These things are so fucking adorable.

I watched the monitor. Syphon moves his way through the alleyway now, he’d hopped down from the fire escape he used. From the looks of it, there were four of these scavengers? He quickly grabbed one from behind, a harsh grip on the man's throat. His mask glared into the visor of the scavenger’s before he pulled it off. A small puff of purple and green gas filled the older man's nostrils. Syphon was using a toxin. Most likely something he’d created himself. I hadn’t seen this color combination before. I was used to the orange mixture he used back when we would fight. The man dropped. Syphon pulled a small metal machine that looked like a miniature tablet with an antenna sticking out from it, from his coat. The device flickered a little bit before he shook his head and swooped around in the darkness. The other three hadn’t heard a thing as they’d been a few turns away from their friend. Whatever they were looking for, they were spread good and held a tight position. Their guns weren’t drawn though, which intrigued me. So whatever these guys were after, they weren’t expecting any kind of trouble. Unfortunately for them, Syphon found them.

The screen was a beautiful crisp HD. I could see just about everything. The first person view was a little shaky but hey, I expected that. Syphon followed the group into a building at the end of the alleyway. He ducked behind the wall, peeking in. The inside was almost too pitch black to see a thing. A few red glow lights hung around in various places, making very, very low visibility. From what I could tell it looked very similar to the warehouse I busted the drug ring in. I reached into my pocket, remembering the vile I never grabbed. Wonderful. I was here with one of the leading experts of biochemicals in the entire fucking city, and I left the mysterious vile of liquid in my bunker. I’m such a great vigilante.

Syphon snaked through the slightly ajar door. The place looked like shit even for a warehouse. What were scavengers in here looking for anyway? What could possibly be of any use to them here? Looked like the place hadn’t been actively used in decades. Judging by the literal gaping hole in the wall next to the door, I’d only caught it because the camera started focusing on one of the alley lights through it.

“What could these guys possibly want in here?” I heard Simon’s voice whisper through the monitor, barely, but I picked up the gist of what he was saying.

He tucked behind some broken and junked boxes and crates, but kept a very very small peek. The three other scavengers, all of which were wearing some flashy goggles and red sashes around their waists, we could see that now. Red sashes? I hadn’t ever seen scavengers wearing any kind of colors before and I’d definitely not heard of any gangs with that color. I knew most of the localized street gangs and most of them wore some shade of black, purple, yellow or blues. Red was an entirely new one to me. Something to jot down, which I did, into my smart watch. The tea was definitely helping even though my body still screamed at me.

Syphon moved a little closer as he ducked behind another set of broken crates, here, we could see everything much better. The red glow lights weren’t glow lights, but flood lights. Red beams blared from the flat silver lights fixed upon fixtures that seemed to be just stuck clumsily into the walls. A large plastic sheet covered something that looked like it was covered in crimson stains, darker than the red flood lights. A figure stood above what looked like the body laying there. She–looked just like the person I’d encountered in the park. The same creepy mask, the same swaying back and forth. Everything was exactly the same. She wore a hoodie this time.

“Weren’t there four of you?” She asked the group, her voice just as monotone as it was before, yet creepy.

“Yeah, he’s probably out taking a piss or something. Don’t worry about him. So, what's this job you got for us?” The man on the far right asked.

“We need you to run a trace on any survivors of The Harmony’s Haven incident. It appears that one of them already seems to have had an accident.” She tilted her masked head towards the body, pulling the sheet back. My jaw dropped. Harmony…my home. This person is looking for survivors? Last I knew there were only a handful. I fidgeted as the Jefferson bot flickered, probably sensing my discomfort here.

“Harmony? You mean that shithole abandoned ghost town outside of the city?” The middle guy asked.

“Yes.”She said bluntly.

“While tracking these old ghosts for you. What should we do with the product? You know Fear raided a supply of it the other day.” The other on the left, who spoke with a soft but older feminine voice, said.

“I know. My superiors are aware and we’re working on updated contingencies. As for now, continue with the next shipment.” Mask said.

“Are you sure?” The sashed woman asked.

“Yes. The shipment wasn’t raided, it was distinguished. Entirely. No samples were left. We aren’t worried about it.” Mask nodded with a wave of her arm and a shrug. They weren’t aware I had some. Excellent. This gave me a good advantage in this case, plus. I now had an idea of the connection between the mask and the sheet of paper with the address. Things, sort of, felt like they were fitting. I must have been working on that address before I ran into her, the memory stuff though, still puzzled me.

She’d pulled out a can of spray paint and started spraying something along the back of the plastic sheet which looked like it hung from the rafters somewhere, like a flag maybe. She sprayed away in red paint, probably to look like the blood of the victim laying there. She sprayed for a while before finishing, waving the others away and skipping along behind the sheet as a door banged shut in the distance. Syphon watched the sashes go by and leave. Once they’d caleared and he hadn’t heard anything from Mask, he ducked out from behind the crates and made his way over to the body tarp display.

I literally couldn’t believe my eyes, even Syphon took a minute to compose himself. Masks had spray painted the saying “WE ARE DARKFIRE” on the tarp. He looked down at the young body that laid before him. It was a Fear patrol agent. I didn’t recognize them but it didn’t matter. Someone killed a Fear patrol agent and from the looks of it was blaming me. I wasn’t going to sit by and stand for this, I instantly got up, working through the pain even though the little Jefferson unit insisted I sit back down.

“SY–Get me home please. Not home home, you know where though.” I whispered in through the monitor’s system.

“Kid, think before doing anything stupid. Yeah this is bad right now but don’t jump to any–” He began.

“Sy, I need home. I need my tools. I need to figure out what the fuck I was working on before my memory started slipping. I know none of this makes sense to you right now but trust me. You don’t just have your name thrown at the scene of a Fear patrol murder and expect nothing bad to–hey, what's that beeping?” I noticed a little ticking sound for the first time.

“Well–that would be bad. Ok I’m heading back.” He said.

“Sy, what is it?”

“A distress beacon. It was tripped the minute they left. I don’t know, one of them must have either known I was here or planned on you showing up at some point. Either way, this is worse now. I’m heading back. We gotta get you underground and fast.” He started dashing back through the warehouse. I don’t think they knew he was there, no one is that psychic or well planned. But I feel like he set off a silent alarm when he approached. Dammit. Minutes. He had minutes to get as far away from there as possible. Distress beacons send a direct sound link back to their headquarters. Usually though, it isn't like a recovery thing, its’ for endangered agents. So whoever this was, was killed and then set up here for this little display. Mask wants me to get caught. Or wants to draw me out obviously. I am so far out of the game, haven’t had a rival in literal years and now–it looked like I had two. Wonderful.

The next hour went by in a flash. SImon had gotten back, gotten me into his car, packed up everything useful he needed and gotten me home to the bunker. He’s one of the few people in the city that knows about it. I gave him the little vile of liquid I had, he gave me some specs to upgrade my Jefferson and we hugged and parted ways. I ended up crashing on the couch and returning to my Graveyard. It was the usual, only this time when I was on the hill, Mask showed up instead of my friends. I stood there, in my own mask, staring her down. I wasn’t afraid this time and I wasn’t cowering. I watched her. She watched me. I’m not sure if Graveyard scenarios are just dreams or some kind of soul travel, but whatever they are, if she’s in mine that means we’ve got a link somehow. She held her hand out and screamed a siren call. I covered my ears as I hit the ground hard. My bandages started bleeding again. The swarming buzz of sound stopped and the pain subsided. I stood, a flame burning from my gloved hand as I readied an attack but she was gone. Where she stood was a single word written in blood on the grass.

WOODPECKER.

I jolted awake in the bunker to the missed call alert and a text message from Jess, finally.

1. WE NEED TO TALK.