Ahndrian Archives

“...with vigilantism on the rise, are we actually facing a resurgence of heroism? A heroic renaissance, if you will? Well, I’m Ray Kallen from News GHS, and tonight, after reports of an altercation that led to the arrest of a notorious villain, we decided to come down to South Gloshaven to find out for ourselves,” the reporter prattled on. Yet, another figure appeared.

“We ask that you refrain from vigilante glorifying language like ‘heroes’ or ‘villains,’” a familiar voice came through the speakers of the mill, “Instead, use appropriate terms like ‘criminals.’ And, make no mistake, that’s what they are.”

“Roan,” Red spat through clenched teeth. Carter Roan was just as much of a nemesis to vigilantes as any criminal threat. He was a member of the Ahndrian Criminal Division and had the clout to sic the SACs on them whenever he pleased.

“These ‘New Heroes’ as they call themselves are viewed as some sort of saviors, but that simply isn’t the case; they are not revolutionaries—and they certainly aren’t heroes. They’re anarchists. On average, it has been shown that there’s a spike in collateral damage, potential for innocent bystanders being harmed, and a rise in criminal acts every time they intervene. They think of themselves as guardians of the people. It’s all self-serving—masturbatory, at best. Again, I repeat, these vigilantes are not heroes, they are criminals. They will be dealt with as such.”

“Son of a—” Red yelled out while jumping to his feet. It felt like his blood was boiling. His aura rolled throughout his body, threatening to send fire sparking out around him.

“Quiet!” Scale demanded in a hushed tone. He held up his pointer finger. He was trying to hear.

“...well, your feelings are clear about your stance on vigilantism. However, can you comment on the string of recent murders? Our inside sources tell us—”

The look on Roan’s face spoke volumes. He wasn’t an easily shaken man, yet it was clear he hadn’t expected this question. The broadcast abruptly ended.

“What murders?” Cure questioned from behind the couch; she voiced what they were all thinking.

After managing to get Zephyr out of the bathtub and onto his computer, he scoured the dark web. He was a savant when it came to this kind of thing. So, when it took him more than a few minutes to find any results, it became clear that this information wasn’t supposed to be out there. It was being kept quiet, scrubbed from the internet. But nothing stays hidden in Gloshaven for long.

“Damn, looks like some psycho has been going around filleting people.”

“In the shining city? And they haven’t stopped them yet? That’s...strange,” Scale added.

“Red, Cure, you guys wanna go get some intel tomorrow?” Zephyr asked. He liked to give support from the mill when he needed to pour through the web. Scale would reach out to military contacts in the city while the others were boots to the ground.

“Ya know, if I was as fast as AfterImage, I could survey the entire city AND do my eye-in-the-sky work from here. Now that was a hero. Then I wouldn’t even need y'all. But, alas, he could run up skyscrapers—and I can barely run down the street,” Zephyr harped. He was trying to lighten the mood. Red’s fury from earlier hadn’t fully subsided. But they all decided to go with it.

“Hey, I feel you. The little sparks I can shoot out are like BBs compared to Supernova. We aren’t all superhero material,” Red said, adding a hollow laugh.

“Speak for yourselves,” Cure responded, “My powers are dope.”

“Mine, too,” Scale said while creating a barrier between the “real heroes” and the “poor excuses.” They continued to mock and rib each other, but each of the New Heroes couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had gripped them. A storm was upon the city of light. The lightning could come for anyone.

The automated sidewalk lanes were filled with people lazily scrolling through social media on their pros, chatting away with friends or business colleagues, or zoning out to music before reaching their destination. Some even had VR lenses in; others around them had to weave around their flailing and shot the players nasty looks that they couldn’t even see. Those in a hurry scurried to and fro in the walking lanes.

The city teemed with life as always. Despite the abundance of people and sound in the gleaming metropolis, the streets were quiet as far as information was concerned. It didn’t stop Cure from trying to get as many leads as possible; the young woman was a magnet for attention—you just wanted to know her. This usually worked to the New Heroes’ advantage. Yet, even with her otherworldly charisma, the denizens of North Gloshaven clammed up whenever she brought up the broadcast and the rumored murders.

They were afraid, cowering when she attempted to steer the conversation toward the unpleasant gossip. Though these killings weren’t general knowledge, something had people unsettled.

It didn’t stop Cure from poking around. She was confident enough that she wouldn’t be recognized. Using INK, a powerful dye that bonded to the lipids in hair, she had completely altered her look. Her hair now hung loosely about like an ebon waterfall. The dye was easily removed with the deactivating solution that came in the package, so she’d be back to her natural emerald in no time.

With his hood drawn tightly around him, Red kept to the fringes. There weren’t many shadows to skulk through in this part of the city. He certainly couldn’t be as forward as Cure. Red wouldn’t dye his hair. His hair was a statement. It was to show his inner fire; it was to remind everyone that he wouldn’t stop. He would keep blazing until the fucked up systems in Gloshaven were burned to the ground, until heroes could step into the light once more, and until the people of the slum's lives were lit up and they had something to warm their hands against. He had his own way of investigating. Keeping his ear to the ground, the vigilante would listen to the hushed voices, those talking about things they didn’t want others to hear.

“You heard about the attack last night, right?” Red heard two older men whispering.

“Yeah, a mother and child slashed to ribbons.”

“I heard they were Ahndri. The mother was a breaker and the child a psych or manipulator or something…”

The two men continued their conversation but Red wasn’t listening anymore. A killer targeting Ahndri? It wouldn’t have been the first anti-Ahndrian sentiment. But a killer going around and hacking them down? In 2096? That was far from common. He felt his anger and aura flare beneath his brown skin. They won’t get away with this.

Red looked back to the crowded streets. They still pulsed with activity, like nothing was wrong. He had to scan for a minute before he was able to spot Cure. She was talking to someone. It made Red think of when the two had first come to North Gloshaven together. Cure marveled at the high-rise buildings. She wasn’t from the gleaming city; he wasn’t sure where she came from originally. But she marveled at the buildings, and he felt something jump inside of him, a feeling he hadn’t felt for any man or woman before. But now, the face she made was different.

The temporarily raven-haired woman cut through the crowd to get to where Red stood off to the side. She looked worried, sporting an uncharacteristic scowl.

“What is it,” Red asked.

“Well, I didn’t get much…but…” she trailed off, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

“But what?”

“No one will talk about the murders, but there’s talk of a man. People have been seeing a tall guy. Pale and thin,” she faltered for a bit, “The guy has short cut brown hair and smiles hard. It makes his mouth look like a line. His eyes are dark. He doesn’t blink,” her last few words came out in a messy and breathless rush.

“I-I’ve seen him,” she spat out, “Outside of the clinic.”

Red blinked a few times to make sure he had heard her correctly. He opened his mouth to speak but the inside felt desiccated, his tongue mummified. The killer was targeting Ahndri, targeting his team. Cure took his hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

“It freaks me out, too. But this is how we get him, Red. Let him come.”