After a full year of training under Death Head, Conner had been reforged into a new man.
Every day after school, Conner and John would go to Death Head’s hideout. While there, Conner would be subjected to extreme weight-lifting, calisthenics, endurance, gymnastics, marksmanship, dueling, and mixed martial arts training. Not only that, but Death Head ensured Conner stuck to a strict body-building diet to improve his overall health as much as possible.
John made an attempt every now and then to join in on the training but showed little aptitude for anything but marksmanship. He still saw an overall improvement in his physique, but not enough to consider becoming a Mask as well.
By the end of it all, Death Head’s remarks about Conner showing promise panned out better than he’d expected. The teenager had grown strong enough to deadlift 400 pounds, run for miles, sprint just under 20 MPH, and could pull off parkour like a champ. Also, his aptitude for actual combat proved impressive as well. While he lacked much talent for melee weapons, and his gunmanship was just alright, where Conner truly excelled was in hand-to-hand combat.
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“You’re already a beast in the ring with blows as hard and fast as a pro kickboxer. Hell, by the time you’re fully grown, I bet you could take on just about any MMA fighter in the cage. Keep it up, Maggot, and maybe you could eventually outdo me.”
Death Head told Conner this one day after he was feeling disheartened from yet another loss during one of their many sparing matches.
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While Conner had improved his body, John decided to focus on training his mind, creating improved gear for Death Head and Conner to use. First off, he made more of his tracking devices for them, and after being allowed to examine Death Head’s armor, John managed to improve its design, enhancing the protection it provided as much as possible without giving up mobility.
The final bit of training Death Head gave the boys was the most unexpected, though. Having Conner and John volunteer at soup kitchens on days when Conner needed to let his body rest.
While neither boy got the reason for these outings at first, the point soon became clear. They’d learned from Death Head that the head of most criminal activity in Miracle City was a woman named Sally Penspot. She’d set up shop a decade or so back and had been extorting the city into destitution while posing her organization as an insurance company.
Seeing so many people, men, women, the elderly, and children alike, with emaciated bodies dressed in tattered clothes made both boys’ blood boil. Knowing if it weren’t for Penspot’s influence, many of the people here would likely have been able to find at least stable lives, caused their pots to bubble over. Finally, the possibility perhaps Penspot was even responsible for their own families’ financial problems and woes, turned their blood to steam.
The only factor that kept Conner and John able to keep their fury under control was that they got to see the faces of appreciation from those they were helping. The looks of genuine joy on homeless families enjoying a hot meal together brought such warmth to teens’ souls that either of them knew, going forward, they would give their all for these people.
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During this training period, Conner had learned a detail or two about the beast of a man calling himself Death Head. First off, the fact of just how physically powerful he was.
Keeping Conner from getting overconfident about his physical accomplishments, Death Head showed he could deadlift over 600 pounds and sprint over 22 MPH. The only physical skills Conner had Death Head beat at were endurance and agility. However, he took no pride in this either, as he learned when Death Head eventually trusted him enough to unmask in front of him, the veteran Mask was already in his fifties, well past his prime.
Regardless, Death Haed’s melee and ranged combat skills still left Conner in the dust, able to outfight the kid in any field. Additionally, it was about the same time Death Head revealed his age when he explained where he’d learned to fight and who exactly he was.
Death Head’s real name was Flint Isiah. Due to a poor home life, he joined the Marines at the age of eighteen and excelled in every field. Soon enough, he’d applied and successfully entered the special forces.
After finishing his tour of duty, Flint returned home to Miracle City. When he had left, it had been a city with its fair share of crime, but upon his return, he learned that it had only gotten worse with time.
Due to having such a strong ethics code drilled into him during his time in the military, Flint decided he should take matters into his own hands and began his work to become a Mask.
With all the money he’d saved up, Death Head purchased his initial set of gear and weapons from the black market, something he wasn’t proud of but saw as necessary.
As a child, he’d always had an interest in entomology, viewing the Death Head Moth as the coolest insect. Drawing from his childhood fascination, he adopted his favorite insect as his secret identity’s moniker.
Once Death Head had made a name for himself, taking down muggers and purse-snatchers, he wound up teaming up with several veteran Masks, who taught him the finer details of crime fighting. In turn, he helped them by teaching them what he knew about combat.
By the time Death Head was thirty, he became regarded as Miracle City’s greatest Mask for his numerous exploits. He had even obtained licensing deals for his trademark, managing to receive cuts of the profit from the merchandise based on him.
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“Wait… You make money off being a Mask?” Conner asked when he learned this.
“Of course I do. If I had to work a day job, I couldn’t get half my work done. I was planning on paying you once you got started, too,” Death Head explained.
Conner hadn’t expected profit to come with the Mask lifestyle, instead thinking he would have had to work himself to death between a real job and this. However, he conceited that Death Head’s logic made the most sense for acting as a Mask in the long term.
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Unfortunately, with time, Flint’s veteran allies either died in the line of duty or had to retire due to old age. It was around then Death Head began training new Masks to replace his lost teammates.
Conner learned he’d actually been Death Head’s ninth apprentice, with Masks such as Crimson Cowl, Dannie Dynamite, Riot, Go-Man, Dahmpire, Howler, Immoveable, and Powerhouse coming before him. Flint explained that all but one of these Masks could be divided into three categories: quit, dead, or operating in their own towns.
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“And what about the odd one out?” Conner asked while working on the sandbag.
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Holding the bag for him, Death Head explained, “That’d be Powerhouse.”
“Powerhouse? Really…? I guess I haven’t heard anything about the guy for a couple years now. What happened to him?”
“His real name’s Parker Lewis. Guy was just a couple years older than you when I started training him. And Hell in a handbasket was he tough. Thought he’d be the perfect replacement for me, but about two years back, he decided the fight wasn’t worth it anymore. Instead of just having the decency to retire and find a peaceful line of work, the bastard decided it’d be better to go work for the scum bags ruining this city. ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,’ he said,” Death Head explained with hardly contained rage.
Hesitating to throw his next punch, Conner asked, “Wait… Hold on, does that mean-?”
Suddenly, Conner got hit in the face by the bag when Death Head pushed it at him, knocking the youth on his ass.
While Conner rubbed his face, Death Head stated, “Yeah. It means he’s still out there taking blood money to do just as dirty deeds. Eventually, one of us is gonna have to stop him. An important skill to have if you want to do this is making sure to keep your guard up, Maggot.”
Climbing to his feet, Conner stuck his arm out and blocked the sandbag before it could hit him again, remarking, “Thanks, Boss. No pressure or anything.”
Catching the bag as it came back to him, Flint replied, “No. All the pressure is meant. This isn’t an easy life, Maggot.”
Furrowing his brow, all Conner could say in response was, “I… Hrm.”
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Roughly halfway through this training period, once Conner had properly bulked up, Death Head brought him to a woman going by the name of Fate. She was a tailor in Miracle City who was apparently trusted by Masks to work on their costumes and armor.
Conner was curious to learn more about her, but she refused to give out more details about her personal life.
After taking Conner’s measurements, the only question Fate had was what kind of theme did Conner want for his armor. In response, Conner explained he wasn’t sure, and just to make it ‘striking and mysterious.’
A month later, the end result was produced. It was a suit similar to Death Head’s but with red highlights instead of yellow and a question mark in the center of its face instead of a moth.
Once they had the suit, Death Head told John to enhance it the same way he’d done for his and that Conner would need to come up with a name for his alternate identity in the meantime.
When in private, Conner complained slightly that the armor was less unique than he would have liked, to which Death Head chided him.
“If you wanted something unique, then you should’ve given Fate more directions to work off of.”
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Accepting what he had to work with while hoping he could get something new made later, Conner used the question mark on his helmet’s face as inspiration and came up with the name Incognus. A play on the word Incognito.
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The next most important event of Conner’s training days was when Death Head, while holding his feet for sit-ups, asked him, “Say, Maggot. Do you think your friends and family can be trusted to keep this secret? I imagine it’s getting hard to come up with excuses for what you’ve been doing.”
Without stopping his workout, Conner replied, “I, uh… Yeah, not sure how much longer I can convince my parents I’m off job-hunting or working out with my friends. And I’m pretty sure my friends already suspect something’s up.”
“They bought it at first when I told them you went to get Death Head’s autograph, but our cover stories since then have been lacking, I think,” John commented as he was working on a computer program to hack into Sally Penspot’s database at Death Head’s request.
“Hmm,” Death Head muttered. “If that’s the case, it’d be best to bring in everyone you feel you can trust on this. At least let them know what you’re doing without going into specifics. Keep them on a need-to-know basis.”
Stopping as he finished his hundredth sit-up, Conner remarked, “Um… I don’t know how my parents will feel about this, Boss. Especially if I try to keep stuff from them.”
Turning in his chair, John replied, “Same here. My dad’s a preacher, so even lying to him for as long as I have been is kind of a big deal.”
Standing up as he let out a frustrated sigh, Death Head told the boys, “Okay. Hold on a second.”
Walking off, Death Head went into the kitchen before returning with a pen and a checkbook.
Writing details out on a check, Death Head said, “Let your folks know you’re both being paid. And Hardwire, tell your folks that you’re not even in any direct danger. If none of that works, then… you two have my permission to let your families in on everything that’s going on.”
As Conner and John stood up simultaneously, Death Head finished writing out both checks and handed them off. At once, the boys’ eyes nearly came out of their skulls as they saw they were both being paid two thousand dollars.
Recognizing the expressions on their faces for what they were, Death Head explained, “You’ll both get two of those a month. And, Conner, yours will go up by another grand once you finish your training period. Then it’ll go up again by an as-of-yet-to-be-determined amount once Incognous merchandise starts getting made. We need to see how well it sells.”
Trembling slightly, Conner replied, “This… This is already just under half of what my dad makes.”
Looking up from his check, John asked, “Um… Death Head, sir, how much do you make a month?”
Nonchalantly, Death Head explained, “Depends on how well my brand is selling. But it usually ranges from two to five hundred grand a month. Admittedly, I donate about half of that to charities, but I still make more than enough to get by.”
Immediately, both boys understood how Death Head could afford all the high-end equipment he carried with him on the field.
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That night, when Conner returned home, he did his best to break the news to his family.
“What in God’s name do you think you’re talking about?! ‘Becoming a Mask’?! That’s absurd!” Conner’s mom blurted out.
“But Death-,” Conner tried to get out, only for his father to interrupt.
“Kiddo, this sounds way too dangerous. I‘m sure you can find something else to do for work.”
Peaking out from behind a chair in their small living room, Leslie remarked weakly, “I think it sounds kinda cool…”
“You don’t understand! Look at how much-.”
Disregarding her kid’s voices, Ellie exclaimed, “No! Your father is right! Such a dangerous career is not suited for one of my children! A different career suits you far better, dear!”
Gritting his teeth as a glare exploded across his face, Conner suddenly yelled, “Like what?! What do you think I can do?! Tell me! Because I can’t think of a damn thing I’m good at!”
Shocked by her son’s outburst, Leslie couldn’t find any words for a proper response.
Alex, however, was able to speak, telling him, “Conner, I don’t care how tough you think you are now. You talk to your mother that way again, and I’ll slap the teeth out of your head, boy… Now explain what you’re saying, kiddo.”
Recoiling a bit at his dad’s warning as his sister ducked deeper behind the chair, Conner replied, “I… I’m sorry, Dad, Mom… But, really, what do you think I can do? Graduate high school and work a dead-end job where I do nothing with my life? Or should I do something I’m actually good at where I get to help people and actually make a difference in this city?”
Hearing his son’s shockingly passionate words, Alex was taken aback slightly. Bringing his hand up to pinch his chin, Alex thought for a moment before exchanging knowing looks with his wife.
Once her husband nodded at her, Leslie took a deep breath before she walked up to her son, folded her arms, and told him, “Go to your room for now, son. Your father and I are going to talk about this and let you know our decision in the morning… And don’t think that big paycheck you’re holding is going to sway our final conclusion, young man.”
Having almost forgotten he’d been holding what he’d hoped would be a bargaining chip, Conner exclaimed, “Huh?! You actually saw that?!”
“We’re not blind, kiddo. Now do what your Ma says and march that dirty mouth of yours to your room,” Alex stated, grabbing his son’s shoulder and turning him to face the hall that led to his and his sister’s rooms.
“I… Uh, right… Sorry again, Mom,” Conner said as he trudged away.
And as he walked, Conner heard his dad say, “You hit the hay too, Ellie. Your mom and I need to be alone for this talk.”
“Oh… Okay, daddy,” Ellie answered somberly.
Once his sister caught up to Conner, she asked quietly, “So… You think Mom and Dad’ll let you go through with becoming Death Head’s sidekick?”
Using a whisper of equal volume, Conner replied, “If I know our parents at all… I’d say it’s a fifty-fifty chance.”
“Oh! Before you get yourselves tucked, don’t either of you forget to brush your teeth! I won’t stand for poor hygiene in this household! Especially if you intend to pursue a career that needs you to stay in good health to perform your duties, young man!” The siblings’ mother yelled at them.
“Yes, Mam!” The two answered in unison as they turned around and went for the bathroom.
Letting his sister use their small bathroom to brush her teeth first, Conner took the time to think to himself, Wait. What Mom just said… Did she mean she’s fine with this?! I guess that answers Leslie’s question! Sweet!