He growled as he turned, pulling up the black, featureless faceplate from his hoodie. Aside from dulling the colors of his clothes for this particular job, his face remained the most vulnerable part of his identity—especially if he wanted to stay off the radar.
Sure, he could assume a new form whenever he wanted. He usually did. But there was something about the Alex Mercer identity that stuck with him. Maybe because it was the first. Maybe because he felt some strange compulsion to atone for his "father's" sins. Or maybe it was just because Dana still preferred it.
Either way, he wasn't about to lose that name because of some nosy blonde.
So when he finally faced the girl floating in the air above him, all Glory Girl could see beneath the hood was a shifting darkness.
"Drop the bags, pal," she said, her tone full of self-righteous confidence, "and I might go easy on you."
He searched Phil's memories for what he knew of her—part of New Wave, the family of capes who believed in fighting crime without masks or codenames. A movement meant to show honesty and accountability. It all started falling apart when one of their heroines got murdered in her civilian identity. Predictable, really.
Standard flying brick, he remembered—flight, super strength, and an invincible force field. Some kind of aura too. Boosts allies, weakens enemies. She was going to be a pain in the ass.
He rolled his unseen eyes and turned away, preparing to leap over the nearby rooftop and disappear. He didn't have time for this. He could shift identities, vanish into the crowd, and be back with Dana in no time. Every minute spent here was another she could be in danger.
Then came something unfamiliar.
A hand grabbed his collar.
With a growl, he slammed an elbow backward into the force pinning him. It struck her barrier instead of flesh, stopping dead—but it was enough to let him slip free as the collar tore apart in her grip. He landed hard and pivoted fast. Her flushed face told him one thing:
She hadn't expected him to be that heavy.
She glared at him and cranked up her aura. A surge of primal instinct flared in the back of his mind, telling him to run, drop the bags, and flee.
He ignored it.
Instead, he let go of the duffel bags. They'd only get in the way.
Glory Girl smirked and rolled her shoulders. "Really? You want to fight me? Haven't you heard? I'm invincible. You can't hurt me."
He didn't answer. No threats. No clever quips. Just a blur of motion.
He moved fast—blindingly fast—and slammed a fist directly into her stomach.
His theory: her barrier didn't break the laws of physics. Newton still applied. The force of his punch might not injure her, but it had to throw her.
And it did.
She rocketed backward midair, eyes wide in shock. That moment of surprise was satisfying.
She recovered quickly, flipping herself around and launching forward again, fist aimed at his skull. He vaulted over her with ease. She twisted in midair and came again. A burst from his air-dash organ pushed him aside as her fist sailed past him a second time. He lashed out, his blow glancing off her barrier—but enough to redirect his motion away from her.
She looked frustrated now. Not many could dodge her that many times.
Instead of another evasive burst, he shifted his arm into a biomass shield, bracing for impact.
She hit it at full speed.
The collision drove them both into the concrete. He grunted, then shoved her off. Cracks spiderwebbed through the hardened membrane of his shield. If he fought more like this, he'd need to reinforce it.
As he dropped the barrier, he took note of something strange.
She was covered in dust.
But... her barrier was supposed to block everything. Including dirt.
An idea formed.
He surged forward again. She sighed and charged too, clearly annoyed.
She threw a punch. He caught it. His boneless structure absorbed the impact. He slammed his other fist into her midsection—again hitting the barrier. But this time, when he let go of her fist, he struck again—immediately.
His second blow hit something soft.
The sound of cracking bone echoed in the alley.
Her eyes went wide, lips open in a silent scream. The barrier flickered back into place under his fist—but the damage was already done.
He had found the weakness.
She lashed out wildly, but strength didn't equal speed. He danced back and struck again. A one-two combo. The first softened the barrier. The second shattered her pelvis.
She collapsed.
Crawling toward him with trembling arms, she didn't even see the final strike coming. He slammed a fist into her chest, then gave a short, surgical jab to the temple.
She went limp.
So much for invincible. Under all that radiant confidence and invisible shielding, she was still flesh and blood.
He stood over her, gaze cold. Not worth consuming. Not now. She might have backup en route.
He grabbed the bags and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her broken in the alley behind him.
One bank robbery—plus a minor cape problem—complete.
Even as the sound of breaking wood snapped her awake, Dana was already moving for cover.
Months of Blackwatch raids had drilled the procedure into her: assess danger before reacting. Don't flee blindly. Don't make assumptions.
She peeked over the splintered table she'd turned into a makeshift bed.
Three men stood in the entrance to the ruined church. Her barricade was gone, reduced to scraps. Their clothes were torn and grimy, their eyes bloodshot. One of them—the biggest and ugliest—clutched a bottle and swayed like a tree in a storm.
Must be the leader.
She rolled her eyes.
Even when people had nothing, somehow they still had alcohol.
"Spread out," the leader barked, voice thick with liquor. "Some bitch and her brother live here. I got a hankerin' for some ass."
Really? She'd been woken up for this?
She snorted internally. Whatever. The bank had closed less than an hour ago. Alex should be on his way back soon.
All she had to do was hold out.
Her fingers wrapped around a sturdy plank. As one man stumbled close, she burst from cover and smashed it across his head.
He screamed, flailing.
She hit him again. And again.
Drunks could tank damage, but she knew how to make it count.
The second man moved in—too fast. The leader grabbed her stick, yanking it from her hand. Then he seized her wrist with a rough, meaty paw.
She responded by headbutting him.
He staggered, blood leaking from his nose, but he didn't let go. Instead, he slapped her across the face, knocking her down.
Dizzy, she felt his grimy fingers tug at her jacket. Rage boiled in her veins.
Then she saw him.
Outside the window.
Alex.
There was no warning—just a human-shaped hole in the wall, and two halves of a man collapsing in a red mess.
The second drunk screamed.
Alex removed his head.
The third tried to run.
A tendril dragged him back like a fish on a line. A quick twist of the neck. A crack. Gone.
Only then did he look at her.
"I could've taken them," Dana said, voice steady but eyes still blazing. Her hand pressed against her swollen cheek.
He gently pulled her hand away and placed his own over the bruised skin. She felt something wet, then numbness.
His hand moved to her forehead. A twinge of pain—then nothing.
The bruise was gone.
"You shouldn't have had to fight them," he growled. Literally growled.
When Dana was threatened, he lost all restraint. That was when things died. Quickly. Messily.
"I should've been here to keep them out."
She shrugged, moving back to the desk-turned-bed and clearing space for the money bags.
"You can't be everywhere at once, Alex. Sometimes you have to prioritize. Tonight was just bad luck. Any other night, those assholes probably would've ignored me."
He started pacing. He always paced when he got like this.
"It's that damn hero's fault. If she hadn't picked a fight over nothing, I would've been back before this ever happened."
Dana's eyes widened. "Wait—hero? I thought this was supposed to be clean."
He rolled his shoulders. "Got jumped by Glory Girl. Must've been on patrol. Don't worry. I kicked the shit out of her."
"You... kicked the shit out of Glory Girl?" She blinked. "The one with the invincible forcefield? You sure about that?"
He nodded. "Her barrier resets or drops for a second after it takes a solid hit. I think if you strike her twice in rapid succession, you can slip a blow in between."
"So without the shield...?"
"She's human. With all that implies."
She frowned, folding her arms. "You didn't kill her, did you?"
"I didn't kill her," he replied with an almost defensive tone. "Just left her in a heap. She'll be fine if someone gets her to a hospital in the next two or three hours."
He shrugged. "She shouldn't have gotten in my way."
Dana exhaled, deciding not to push further. Alex didn't get morality the way she did. He was trying, yes. But to him, threats had to be neutralized. Permanently. That was his instinct.
Like the guy she dated once. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Tried to force himself on her.
Until he turned and saw Alex.
The most wanted man in America.
At least Alex had cleaned up afterward.
"Well," Dana said, looking over the bags, "I don't know how much you grabbed, but it should be enough to put a deposit on a place. Though it'll have to be something cheap."
He gave her a look.
"Hey, homes are expensive. Robbing a bank is meant to supplement your bank account, not start one."
"But it's enough to get you somewhere safe, right?" he asked.
She smiled. "It's enough. Tomorrow I'll hit the internet café and start looking. You can just…" she waved vaguely, "...do whatever it is you do when you're not babysitting me."
She snapped her fingers suddenly. "Actually, I've got an idea. You should look into the local capes. Find out what they can do. Who's dangerous. Who's not."
Alex frowned. "Why? I'm not planning on getting into another pissing match."
"Just like you didn't plan on fighting Glory Girl?" she asked. "She's one of the big names in this city. People look up to her. And now she got taken down by some unknown. That's going to rattle people. You don't want to get blindsided again."
He exhaled. "They're not invincible."
She raised an eyebrow, and he relented.
"But... you're right. Learning the local power structure could help. Make planning easier."
"Thanks," she said with relief. He wasn't her real brother—but he was still hers. Somehow, being reborn as a monster had made him better than the man he used to be.
Alex's mouth twitched into a faint, awkward smile as he dropped the bags.
Dana yawned, curling into her sleeping bag again.
Alex stood near the door, unmoving, watching over her.
Ready to kill anything that came too close.