Twenty Years Ago
He could always see it in their eyes.
The look that said, Why would anybody put on a costume and fight crime?
He wanted to tell the poor slobs, If you have to ask that question, you’ll never know.
You’ll never understand.
The masked man, dressed in the tight-fitting costume of red and black, perched at the edge of an office building and surveyed the city sprawled below him.
Seraph City.
They—the citizens he protected—called him the Raptor, a sleek bird of prey feeding upon the vermin infesting the city.
His city.
They might not have understood him, but they were grateful for what he did, how he allowed them to sleep safely in their beds knowing he was out there.
Protecting them from evil.
The Raptor looked at his partner beside him.
His sidekick.
The newspapers called him Talon.
The Raptor and Talon; it had a nice ring to it. They’d inspired other crime fighters in cities across the world. For there was only so much that law enforcement could do. No matter how hard the police fought, some bad guys would always slip through the cracks.
It was up to the Raptor and Talon, and others like them, to pick up the slack.
Talon noticed that the Raptor was staring at him and met his gaze. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” The Raptor turned his eyes toward the rooftop of the building below them.
The object of this evening’s mission.
While the Raptor had indeed inspired the birth of heroes, these superheroes had in turn inspired the birth of a new class of criminal, a kind of evil the world had never seen before.
Flamboyant. Colorful. Powerful. Deadly.
The Raptor refused to accept responsibility for these new and dangerous criminals, convinced they would have arrived even if he hadn’t. The world was changing, and these villains were simply products of that change.
Just as he and the other costumed crime fighters were.
One side couldn’t … wouldn’t exist without the other.
“So you think they’re down there?” Talon asked.
The building below them had been designed to be Seraph City’s new convention center, a showplace to announce to the world that a restored Seraph was on the rise. That the dangerous, crime-ridden place of old was a thing of the past.
But that was before construction workers discovered that the earth beneath the building had served as an illegal dumping ground for years, poisoning the area with toxic waste.
The project had been stopped cold, leaving an abandoned, decaying shell, a perfect home for all manner of vermin.
“They’re down there, all right,” the Raptor confirmed.
He had been searching for the Terribles for more than a week, and finally, thanks to his many informants, he had located his prey.
“Slippery Pete saw the Frightener and the Blade Master going in less than an hour ago,” the Raptor said.
“Good old Slippery Pete,” Talon said with a chuckle. “It’s a good thing he’s more afraid of us than of the Terribles.”
The Terribles had held the city in a grip of fear for weeks. Their recent armored car attack had left two civilians close to death and another badly burned.
It was high time their reign of terror was brought to an end, and over the last three nights the Raptor had forgone sleep to spend every moment tracking the Terribles.
Now he had found them.
A thrill vibrated through his body as he readied himself to strike. He always felt this way before he went into battle; he always felt this good.
There was movement in the shadows below them, and he and Talon both tensed, watching with predators’ eyes.
The Raptor reached up to his mask, gently tapping the side of his head to activate the Owl’s Eye lenses in his face mask, which turned the night as bright as day.
Below him, lighting up a quick smoke, was the Muscle. This villain was ten times as strong as a normal man, and twenty times as dumb. He would be the least of their problems.
The criminal finished his smoke and returned to the protection of the nest.
“It’s time,” the Raptor announced, spreading his arms to activate the flight sensors woven into the protective mesh of his costume. Talon did the same, and they leapt from the rooftop, riding the air currents to the unfinished convention center below.
Silently they touched down in the cool darkness of the center’s entryway. A set of double doors secured with corroded, rust-covered chains and padlocks was now all that stood between them and their quarry.
Talon looked at him, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“It’s all yours,” the Raptor said. It was like throwing a bone to a hungry dog.
He smiled as he watched the boy lunge. The strength-enhancing exoskeleton built into the costume he wore allowed the boy to tear the doors from their hinges with ease.
He was good; maybe good enough to carry on the legacy when it came time for the Raptor to step down.
Of course, the crime fighter hoped he wouldn’t need to think about that for many years. There was far too much evil in the Angel City for him to think about stepping down as its protector.
With a powerful leap, the Raptor bounded through the doorway to join his partner. Oddly, there was no sign of the Terribles.
“What, did they see you and surrender?” he asked, coming to stand beside Talon.
“Something’s wrong” was all Talon had to say. Suddenly the darkness was dispelled by a bright, almost blinding light as multiple spotlights set up all around the cavernous first floor were illuminated.
Stunned, the Raptor realized almost at once what he and Talon had done. How could they have been so stupid? So overconfident?
There were five chairs set up across from them, with five people bound and gagged in them. He knew each and every one. They were his agents, his informers, people he used and trusted to collect information to eliminate the criminal element from the city.
Justin Spiewack, the incorruptible beat cop with a wife and two infant daughters; Patricia Doughtery, tough-as-nails reporter for the Seraph Sun; Brucie Mitchell, owner of the Ballentine club, Seraph City’s hottest nightspot; Dr. Lita Coughlin, personal physician to some of Seraph City’s most powerful criminal figures; and Slippery Pete, one of the greatest con men of the twentieth century.
All of them tied to their chairs. All of them clearly terrified as the small digital clocks connected to explosive devices resting in each of their laps counted down the last seconds of their lives.
Eight … Seven … Six …
“What do we do?” Talon asked, his earlier excitement replaced by fear.
Five … Four …
A thousand and one scenarios ran through the Raptor’s mind. But he knew that none would be successful. “It’s too late,” he said.
Three … Two …
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, he thought, frozen in place, feeling the fear emanating from those who had aided him in battle.
The Raptor and Talon were supposed to charge into the dilapidated building, defeat the bad guys, and bring them to justice.
That was how it was supposed to be. How the game was played.
How it always had been.
One.
The world around the Raptor was consumed in fire and smoke, and a sound that could very well have signaled the end of the world.
The end of his world.
Evil had changed the rules.