The news has been on in the background of every single one of Kaiden’s classes, unnecessarily so. He’s sure that other states in the US aren’t mourning nearly as much as the one he happens to live in, but what can he do? He can see his classmates’ indifference. He can feel the grief for Middleman’s death becoming a trend that’ll fade within a day or two. He can hear the jokes people make about it, writing them off as “dark humor” and moving on. It makes him feel angry. But, again, what can he do?
Local news outlets show snippets of the funeral proceedings. The Council of Allies is currently on the screen; Alliance president Solar Starling takes the head, Chameleon stands slightly behind, and the remaining five members of the Council are placed further behind in a line. Starling is speaking gravely about how sad it is to have lost one of the top members of our organization, how justice will never fall, et cetera. Then there’s a visual cut to the carrying of Middleman’s coffin. Dozens of men and women — all members of the Alliance, in costume and everything — march the proceedings. It’s kind of beautiful, Kaiden must admit.
He wonders who will take Middleman’s place as third in command now that the spot is free. Probably, he thinks, one of the members of the Council. Gazing at the stoic, masked faces displayed on the television screen, he tries to gauge what they must be thinking.
From what he’s seen, the Council is simply the elitist inner circle of the Alliance. Though the impression is that every major decision in the Alliance is up to the contracted members, that’s only a half-truth. Yes, they give the Allies freedom to vote on which policy they would like to enact, but the voting is always between different pre-approved plans proposed by the Council. They’ve already discussed, weighed pros and cons, and decided that they would be okay with all of these plans, so why not just leave it up to the general members?
Kaiden and Connor are sure the Council only gives the rest of the Allies periodic votes so that they don’t realize that, truly, nothing is up to them. You are an employee for a government-funded corporation. They don’t need you, and if they were to get rid of you for causing too much trouble, there are hundreds of other heroes who would kill to take your place. That’s just the way it goes. Honestly, Kaiden, Connor, and Tara are lucky they were even accepted in.
Kaiden takes a second to ponder the two options that he’ll have to vote between tonight. Neighborhood watch, buddy system. The former is really just the latter on a larger scale. Maybe people like the idea of a bigger group. He doesn’t, and he won’t, and he sincerely hopes that the other Allies agree with him on that.
He sighs and puts his head down, finally taking note of his surroundings. Study hall. The room around him is dark and smelly, the smelliness being a consequence of cycling teenagers by the dozens through one small, poorly-ventilated space. Kaiden is just grateful he doesn’t have a sensitive nose.
Meanwhile, the only light in the room comes from the windows and the television in the corner, which is playing the news for “background noise” while the students work. He wishes it was playing absolutely anything else, but beggars can’t be choosers — it’s better to have something to listen to than to just be left with nothing but your own thoughts. At least you can turn down the volume of the news.
Regardless of dead superheroes and smelly kids, he really has nothing to worry about, and he finds himself able to relax his tense shoulders. All he has to do now is wait until tonight. Ignoring the stress of the anticipation, Kaiden closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He stays in that position, head nestled in his arms on his desk, until he can hear the bell ring.
The light flicks on, and students begin talking loudly now that they can get up and stretch their legs before they walk to their next period. As Kaiden lifts his head, his eyes meet with another student, and he smiles. The student smiles back and nods before disappearing into the hallway without a word. Kaiden reminds himself of the student’s name — Nathan — before suppressing a yawn as he stands up. He picks up his backpack and leaves the room, nodding to the teacher who follows him with her eyes from her desk.
After that, coasting through the day comes almost second- nature to him. He listens to the loud air conditioner as he sits alone like usual in his sixth period, then in his seventh period he organizes layouts for yearbook spreads. When the bell rings, he drifts to his car. When he gets home, he floats through a couple homework assignments. When it’s time to go, he goes.
Eventually he’s making his way to the Domicile on foot, his costume a rumpled mess in the drawstring bag that sits over his shoulders. The time is 7:23, and the evening air packs a slight chill. Kaiden quickens his pace, slowly passing by building after building to the left of him. To the right is the street. In front of him, the sidewalk is scarce of people, but he blends in just fine.
Eventually, looking straight forward, Kaiden can see his destination looming in the distance. The Domicile. Alliance HQ. The buildings to his left become more sparsely dispersed as the ground begins to adopt a slightly upward incline. Instead of continuing his path adjacent to the road that leads to his target, he turns a sharp left into a convenience store.
The bell rings as he opens the door, and he heads straight for the cashier, a boy with electric-blue eyes. The boy looks up from his magazine as Kaiden speaks. “Bathroom key?” Kaiden asks, clicking his tongue twice.
The boy sighs and pulls out two keys — one silver, one gold. He hands Kaiden the silver key and says “Send it back when you’re done.”
Kaiden nods wordlessly, closing his fingers around the key. He walks straight to the door marked ‘staff,’ unlocks it, and walks through into the dingily lit room. In it sits a toilet, a sink with a mirror above it, and a fan. It smells faintly of lysol and calcium.
The only light comes from a warm white light bulb above the mirror. Kaiden locks the door behind himself, sets his bag down, and quickly undresses. As soon as the cool air of the room hits his skin, he feels much more exposed than before, though that should be obvious. He kicks his clothes into the corner of the tiny room, hoping that the floors were cleaned recently. And when he opens his bag, his rumpled costume sits waiting for him.
His tunic, currently indistinguishable from his pants, boots, and mask, is what he reaches for first, and confidence surges through him as soon as his fingers touch the smooth material. As he pulls it over his head, he can’t help but smile. Next come the pants, then the boots, which he pulls on one by one. The last thing Kaiden does is ruffle his hair with his fingertips before pulling on his mask. He’s always hated this mask, but it’s better than nothing to protect his identity.
The Alliance prides itself on the way it provides each of its members with quality personalized starting gear. One of Kaiden's least favorite parts is the masks they provide for each member, specifically designed to resist enhanced vision of any type. X-ray vision? The masks are platinum-lined, sorry. Infrared? Advanced temperature-matching technology makes the heat signature match exactly what’s behind it. Even radio and sound waves can’t penetrate this mask, and it pisses Kaiden off.
Kaiden complains that the mask is heavy, it’s sweaty, and worst of all, he hates not being able to see through these masks to his fellow Allies’ faces. It doesn’t feel fair — his sight is all he has, and even though it’s just faces, the idea that there are things in the world which render him average makes his skin crawl. Call him egotistical, and you’re probably right.
Glancing into the mirror, Kaiden takes a deep breath, slides open the small hatch that sits on the chalky white wall, and places the bathroom key into the chute that sits behind it. He closes the hatch before pressing a button to the right. Then, he waits.
Soon, Kaiden begins to hear a low groaning sound from the floor. He watches. One of the floor tiles closest to the wall begins to slide underneath said wall, leaving a deep, narrow hole in the floor where it had been. It’s a tunnel, and on one of the tunnel walls rests a metal ladder. So, of course, Kaiden picks up his bag, scoops up all of his discarded clothes to put inside, and slings the bag over his shoulder. He starts down the ladder, climbing into the dark abyss that lays underneath. He hears the tile begin to slide back into place when he’s six rungs down, and by the ninth, he is engulfed into darkness. So, he continues climbing down.
Finally, Kaiden feels his feet hit solid ground. He lets out a sigh of relief, just glad that the climb down is over. Descending the ladder in the dark has never ceased to be ridiculously nerve wracking, and probably never will. When he turns around from the ladder, he can at least dimly see his surroundings: a long tunnel, about a solid seven- minute walk to the other end. He starts with a sigh, keeping his eyes locked on the light at the end of the tunnel, a solid, real measure of his progress.
He walks briskly, and the light gradually grows bigger and bigger. The tunnel he’s in is just one of many in a system that will soon merge into one large underground hallway, which is exactly where the light is coming from. Kaiden can feel the ground underneath his feet turn from dingy tile to polished linoleum as he moves further. Getting into the Domicile unseen has always been a hassle, but he would take a creepy tunnel over a compromised identity any day, rest assured.
It’s not long before Kaiden begins to hear voices, likely the voices of multiple Allies traveling through underpasses in the same way as himself. And when he reaches the place in which all of said under- passes join, his inference is confirmed by the sight of several Allies flowing into the hall from their respective tunnels.
“Yo, is that Witness?!” Someone lightheartedly exclaims at the sight of Kaiden emerging into the hallway. When he turns, he sees it’s the B-tier Granite smiling with feigned astonishment.
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Kaiden raises his hands in a mock ‘you-got-me’ motion, smiling. “Granite! You excited for the vote?”
A cringe makes its way onto Granite’s masked face, and he quietly says, “Are you?”
“Kind of,” he begins, looking straight ahead to the door that will lead into the Domicile’s basement as he walks, “I’m anxious to see what the final decision is.”
“Yeah, I know that it’s up to us, but it feels like I have absolutely no power in the situation,” Granite says, his voice low and gloomy.
“It’s okay though! I’m sure it’ll turn out to be the buddy system.” This statement isn’t the reassuring comment that Kaiden thought it would be. Granite looks at him inquisitively as if he’s just said something dumb.
“You want it to be the buddy system?”
Kaiden looks back at Granite. He suddenly feels embarrassed. “You… don’t?” he asked.
“No, dude, I want it to be the neighborhood watch! Having to coordinate with your partner every time you want to go out would suck!” Through his words Granite’s tone is lighthearted, which makes Kaiden feel slightly less tense at the exclamation.
“Well, yeah, but it’s better than having to go out with a big group and patrol for nothing once a week!” Kaiden responds, also at ease.
“Wouldn’t that be so much easier than having to go out whenever your buddy does, or risk disappointing them by holding them back? You can’t even pick your partner!”
At that, Kaiden argues, “What’s so bad about having someone to watch your back?”
“Nothing, but not like this!” replies Granite, “I guess we’ll just have to see what happens,” he adds calmly with a grin.
“Guess so!” Kaiden says, and then they walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence. The hallway itself is far from quiet. From all directions comes an absolute ruckus as more Allies spill into the room from the multiple underpasses that line the walls. Government funding can get you pretty far, after all, so there are many establishments across the city that have little tunnels and secret passages into the Domicile.
Every new employee to these buildings is carefully instructed on the exact codes and protocols for such cases. If someone gives this signal (left-right wink, double tongue click, ear pulling, etc), give them this key and let them do with it what they please. The key will be returned to you via this chute. Don’t ask questions, don’t be nosy.
Kaiden’s favorite place to go through is the convenience store he’s always gone through. According to Cosmos, Kaiden’s old mentor, it’s the least popular spot. No lines for the “staff bathroom,” no trouble, just ask for the key, give your little signal, and move on. It’s everything Kaiden could ask for!
Finally, Kaiden has reached the door into the Domicile’s basement. For a cellar, it’s quite well furnished. Old portraits of former Alliance presidents line the walls, the tile floor is clean and polished; hell, there’s even a mini fridge. It’s less of a basement and more of a lounge or break room — the warehouse is a floor lower, and that’s the level that fits what you might imagine when you first picture the basement of a superhero organization. Boxes upon boxes of outdated equipment that they could just donate, but hey, who cares about new up-and-coming supers if they’re not signed with us?
Together Kaiden and Granite make their way to one of the elevators that’ll take them up to the main floor of the Domicile. Every few seconds is another ding! of an elevator returning to this floor to fetch more Allies on their way up. When the doors of the elevator which Kaiden and his companion have stopped in front of open, they file inside with a few stragglers following suit behind.
The elevator ride up is quiet, but the tension is palpable. Kaiden gets the feeling that others are just as unenthusiastic for this vote as he is. When the bell finally dings as a signal that the doors are about to open, Kaiden braces himself for the flurry of movement and light that his eyes will probably soon be subjected to.
The doors slide open. Kaiden looks around the lobby they’ve landed in, but it’s surprisingly quiet. Allies quietly discuss current circumstances, sitting on armchairs and reading magazines to pass the remaining time before the meeting begins. Any real sound that Kaiden can hear comes from the assembly room. Though the door is closed, muffling the din of talking and laughing, Kaiden can see through to the inside where many, many Allies sit. As he opens the thick wooden door, the sound amplifies tenfold.
No one notices as Kaiden walks in, and if someone does, he doesn’t notice them noticing. He walks closer to the stage, finds a cluster of four empty chairs in the third row, and sits in the leftmost one. Connor and Tara will join when they arrive, but of course, as usual, he’s the first one of the group to be there. He checks his watch. It’s 7:49, the meeting begins in eleven minutes, and he feels more anxious about it than ever.
Kaiden closes his eyes once more. It’s like putting a piece of mesh fabric over a spotlight; it doesn’t block the harsh light, but it sure tones it down a little. And sometimes, toning it down is all Kaiden needs. When he feels someone tap his shoulder, his eyes flutter open, though he already knows what he’ll see. A tall, broad-statured man stands above him. The man starts speaking as soon as Kaiden makes eye contact. “May I sit here?” he asks, gesturing to the seat next to Kaiden.
Kaiden smiles, nods, and reshifts his body needlessly to make sure he’s not in the way. As the man sits down, Kaiden realizes he’s never seen him before. Without even thinking about it, he instinctively says, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Witness!”
“Oh,” says the man with a warm smile, holding out his hand for Kaiden to shake, “Mockman. This is my first day.”
“Ah.” Kaiden evaluates. The man seems older, maybe in his late thirties-early forties. His deep purple and yellow suit has a large white M on the front, presumably for Mockman, and his hair is slicked-back. Overall, a very professional, experienced look. Mockman notices Kaiden observing him, and he seems to smile in amusement, his eyes crinkling softly.
“Got any questions?” he asks as if he’s read Kaiden’s mind.
“Yeah, actually!” replies Kaiden with a friendly grin, “Have you ever worked with an organization like this before?”
“No! I just moved here from Baltimore; I was an independent there. You could probably try to look me up, but the cops there try pretty damn hard to hide it when independent supers are more competent than them.”
Kaiden has to chuckle at that bold statement, but he knows it’s probably true. In most big cities, cops exist because mundane people still want to feel like they do something helpful. Not that he can blame them — if he was born with that kind of biological disadvantage, he’d probably seek out that type of control too. But he wasn’t, and he doesn’t. So he says, “That really sucks. What brought you to Columbus?”
“Family matters. A new job. And, of course, the Alliance. I’m not gonna pass up this opportunity, no matter how far away I live,” replies Mockman as if reading off a list in his head. “I’m sure you understand?”
Kaiden nodded. “Oh, of course… I only just got picked up a couple months ago. Still C-tier, but I’ve almost wracked up enough points to move up to B!”
“Is it hard to ‘wrack up’ these points? I heard this was one of the tougher organizations.”
“Eh, it’s easy if you know what you’re doing,” says Kaiden, “It’s hard for me because my power isn’t, like, a fighter power, so I pretty much have to work in a group. And, you know, school gets in the way.”
“Still in school, eh?” Mockman says with a chuckle, “I miss those days. What’s your power?”
“E-vision,” replies Kaiden, sighing, “I mean, it’s cool and all, but I wish I had something more dangerous, something that would really help me fight.”
Mockman smiles once more, and Kaiden can almost feel himself relax. He trusts this man, a lot more than he probably should for having just met him. He finds himself listening intently when Mockman starts speaking once more. “I think it’s pretty cool, Witness. What type of vision? Infrared? X-ray?”
“All of them. It’s more telepathic than anything, my brain can just… see things, see through things, and it sort of reports it to my eyes, so it’s like I’m seeing it.” Kaiden smiles before realizing he’s talked about himself a bit too much, so he adds, “What’s your ability?”
“Duplication. It’s like a crazy mitosis at lightning-speed. But back to your vision, what do you mean it’s —”
Suddenly, Mockman’s question is interrupted by the arrival of Connor and Tara. Connor plops himself onto the chair next to Mockman, before leaning forward to squint at Kaiden and asking, “So you replace us the moment you get the chance, huh?”
“No, no, I swear it’s not what it looks like!” Kaiden chuckles before straightening out and introducing his new friend. “This is Mockman. He’s a duplicator!”
“Give away all my secrets, why don’t you?” says Mockman in a sarcastically lighthearted reply, turning to Connor and Tara to shake both of their hands respectively. “Nice to meet you guys. I’m Mockman.”
Connor nods. “Invisiboy. Can you guess what my power is?”
“Here’s a hint,” says Kaiden, “it’s exactly what it sounds like.”
Connor gives Kaiden a sour look once more, and Tara takes the opportunity to speak as she sits down. “I’m Tarahertz! Electrokinesis,” she beams. Mockman nods in response.
Kaiden checks the time once more, and, seeing it’s 7:58, he sits back in his seat to prepare for the start of the meeting while Tara and Connor talk to Mockman. When Mockman turns back around to flash a smile at Kaiden, he involuntarily smiles back.
The audience suddenly grows quiet. A chorus of shh’s has erupted, and spreads throughout the seated group like a plague. Mockman looks around, as if wondering what has happened to effectively change the volume of the room from sixty to three. When his eyes cross the stage, they widen, and Mockman’s mouth opens slightly in realization. There stands Solar Starling, president of the Alliance.