“I... I’m not,” Sam insisted. “I’m a healer...”

“And yet you weren’t able to resuscitate Red Weaver?” Warden Malarkey confirmed.

“I didn’t say I was a good healer,” Sam replied. I’m really not…

“Then how did you know about the type of poison she’d been dosed with?” Warden Malarkey pressed.

“How did you—”

“—I heard you tell the EMTs that Red Weaver was poisoned with the Kiss of Achlys.” Warden Malarkey drummed his fingers on the table’s wooden surface. “How does a zeta-level healer have that kind of classified information?”

Sam’s eyebrow rose. “C-classified?”

“The Kiss of Achlys is an alpha-grade poison that’s cataloged on the Warden’s classified list of extremely dangerous substances. Its use and procurement are kept under lock and key inside a Warden Relic Repository in Westchester,” Warden Malarkey explained.

“I didn’t know that,” Sam replied.

“I suppose you also didn’t know that there was a break-in at the repository a few weeks ago that included, among others, the theft of an ancient scroll containing the instructions for concocting the Kiss of Achlys?” Warden Malarkey pressed.

Dude, your repository can’t hold a candle to the thousands of years’ worth of information Triple-A’s has... Not like I can tell you that... So Sam shook his head instead. “I know nothing about that...”

Warden Malarkey’s right hand seemed intent on boring finger-sized holes on the wooden table as his finger-tapping intensified. Sam found it quite annoying, which he guessed was probably the point.

“Look...” Sam stifled the groan on his lips as he finally realized that this wasn’t an interview at all. It was an interrogation. “I really didn’t know about any break-ins. Part of my training as a healer was to study the healing arts...”

At Sam’s words, Warden Malarkey picked up the tablet on the table and read aloud its contents. “You’ve received certification in the Healing Arts from Columbia’s Heroics Department... fancy ivy league school.”

He continued to browse the contents of the tablet which Sam guessed was all the information the Wardens had on him.

“It says here that you met Thunder during the Battle of the Bronx,” Warden Malarkey continued.

Sam noticed how Bethany stiffened visibly after her superior mentioned the Bronx incident. He wondered what that was about but then noticed how Warden Malarkey was staring pointedly at him.

“Yes,” Sam answered quickly. “Um, how is that relevant to today’s crisis?”

“Simply establishing your relationship seeing as you claim to have arrived here at her insistence,” the warden answered.

“R-relationship?” Sam hoped to the gods that he wasn’t blushing. “W-we’re just friends...”

“Friendship born out of great tragedy... sounds nice,” Warden Malarkey replied, although he didn’t sound like he thought it was nice at all. “You were at the Bronx of the Bronx because you were a reporter for the Herald?”

What the hell’s up with this line of questioning? Sam thought. It’s almost like he wants... oh, no...

The warden’s next question only confirmed Sam’s fears.

“But you weren’t working for the Herald on the night of the Astoria fire... you were present for that too, weren’t you?” Warden Malarkey interrogated.

“How do you—”

“—an after-action report written by Police Sargent Andrew Graham places you at the scene,” Warden Malarkey explained.

“I was out jogging and I saw the fire,” Sam replied defensively. “Besides, there were lots of people there that night...”

“But not a lot of healers were on scene,” Warden Malarkey answered. “I’m sure you’ve read the papers... how a mysterious healer saved a woman and her children from the burning apartment’s rooftop that night.”

“Crow-Man saved them,” Sam answered almost out of instinct. “I mean, that’s what I read in the Herald...”

“Sure, he saved the children, but the mother...” Warden Malarkey let the sentence hang on dead air before he continued with, “Speaking of Crow-Man, he was at the Met last night… foiling the Trickster’s plans to burn down the museum...”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched. Burning down the museum… no, that wasn’t it… I guess they don’t know about the bow.

“The after-report for the Met Incident also mentions an unknown healer saving a police officer from joining a long list of the Trickster’s dead victims...” Warden Malarkey said.

He dropped the tablet onto the table.

“It’s a shame such a powerful healer wasn’t around today, huh?” he added.

Sam heard the jab to his official power ranking and let it slide. If the warden only knew the truth — and perhaps that was the problem. It was looking like Warden Malarkey suspected Sam had more power than he was letting on.

He stifled the shudder that conclusion caused and then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it is. I’m just a crappy zeta... I can’t heal serious injuries…”

For the second time since meeting her, Sam noticed how Bethany stiffened visibly. Her superior’s reaction was more telling though. He gave Sam that knowing smirk which told the young hero he’d just been caught in a lie.

Oh, no, Sam thought as the realization was finally dawning on him.

“It’s quite the coincidence that the Trickster would invade Red Weaver’s mansion on the same day you and Thunder decided to visit,” Warden Malarkey said coolly.

Sam’s gaze zoomed in on Bethany, scrutinizing her face more thoroughly. Gods... I know her.

“It’s also quite the coincidence that you were around during the Astoria fire that our investigation concluded was caused by the same villain who’d blown up the Met,” Warden Malarkey added.

And she knows me, Sam realized.

“It’s even more of a coincidence that both incidents featured an unknown healer swooping in to save the day,” Warden Malarkey pressed on.

Sam locked eyes with Bethany. She recognizes me too.

“But as I’ve said, I don’t believe in coincidences,” Warden Malarkey droned on. “And we have a saying, you can brush off one coincidence, but three, that’s a pat—”

“—You’re War Maiden!” Sam blurted out.

It was just for a moment, but Sam saw the shame flit across Bethany’s face. It was that same shameful stare she’d given him when she walked away from the battle with the Terror, leaving her hammer on the ground for Sam to pick up later on.

“I was,” she answered. “I quit…”

“Bethany recently left New York’s active hero roster to work for the Wardens,” Warden Malarkey explained in a tone that suggested he was annoyed with this interruption.

Sam knew that a lot of wardens were semi-retired heroes who’d lost the nerve to stand on the front-lines. He’d even considered joining them. But they rarely took in young heroes, opting instead to force them into counseling so that they could return to the duty that couldn’t be forsworn. It’s why Sam ultimately decided not to apply. He didn’t want to be told to get back into the fight after he’d already lost the heart for it.

“But why did you—”

Sam stopped himself. He already knew why. It was the same reason Sam’s heart was so heavy today. Failure was a hard thing to get over.

And with the truth of Bethany staring him in the face, Sam knew the jig was up and the wardens knew he’d healed her near-fatal injuries that night. This meant Warden Malarkey was simply baiting Sam, pushing him into a corner there was no escape from.

“I guess we’re done with the satyr-shitting, huh,” Warden Malarkey growled.

Sam’s brow furrowed. “W-what do you want from me?”

Warden Malarkey leaned forward once again. “I know you’ve been lying to us, Sam, and I have to ask — what are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Sam lied.

Warden Malarkey ignored his answer.

“Here’s how I see it, Sam…” The warden drummed his fingers on the table’s surface once more. “You’re either secretly in cahoots with the Trickster and this business of healing his victims is just a cover, or—”

Sam had nearly risen to his feet. “No! I’m not—”

The warden held up a hand to silence Sam.

“Or,” Warden Malarkey continued, “You’re a vigilante now, and that’s worse... Why is it worse, Bethany?”

Bethany looked very uncomfortable to be put in the spotlight like that, but she squared her shoulders and answered, “Vigilantes are self-serving people with their own agendas, agendas that do not serve the interests of the law or the people. Vigilante actions often end in terrible tragedies such as the Revenger Incident of 1986 which saw Chicago turn into a war zone between the mob and the heavily armed vigilante known as the Revenger.”

“Exactly,” Warden Malarkey nodded satisfactorily.

“But, sir,” Bethany offered Sam an encouraging smile, “Mr. Shepard’s done some good things recently. Maybe—”

“—regardless of any perceived altruism, the Wardens do not suffer vigilante activity, Bethany,” he chided her before shifting his focus back to Sam. “So, Sam, I’d like you to tell me which of my two scenarios your actions more reflect.”

Sam didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Even if he claimed he wasn’t in league with the Trickster, he knew anything he’d done so far could be seen as an act of vigilantism.

“Are you even really just as zeta?” Warden Malarkey pressed. “And if not, how did you fool our system—”

The door to the dining room burst open, and two people walked in with guards following helplessly after them. One of the two intruders was a middle-aged Asian man with crop-cut black hair and a handlebar mustache.

“Mr. Kim?” Sam asked in surprise.

The Herald’s Editor-in-chief gave Sam an almost imperceptible nod but said nothing. It was up to the curly-haired woman in the pale blue suit that matched the complexion of her azure skin to do the talking.

“Hilda Weathers,” she stated, as if her name should have been enough to quell the annoyance in Warden Malarkey’s face, and it was. “I’m Mr. Shepard’s attorney.”

“Whoa,” Sam whispered. “It’s Weather Witch…”

Hilda Weathers, also known as Weather Witch, was an attorney by day and disaster prevention hero by night. Ranked fifth in the national charts, she was an L.A. based hero rumored to be a direct descendant of Thor, the Norse god of Thunder. As a lawyer, she was way more than Sam could afford, who weirdly enough, was known for defending vigilante cases across the US.

“You’ll find these statements,” Hilda dropped a manila folder onto the table, “from witnesses stating emphatically that my client did not engage the villain or its companion horrors, although gods know he should have.”

Warden Malarkey tapped his forefinger on the manila folder. “We have video.”

Hilda gave him the kind of smile a shark might show prey it was about to devour. “I’ve already spoken with the residents... they claim that something that may or may not be mystical in nature blocked them from taking video with their smartphones. I expect it’ll be the same for any street cameras around the area.”

Then Hilda motioned for Sam to stand, which he did as it seemed impossible to say no to her.

“I suggest you visit the hospital once Thunder has regained her strength.” Hilda walked over to Sam and grabbed him by the arm. “You’ll find her recollection of events coincides with my client’s statement.”

As Hilda dragged Sam back toward the door, Mr. Kim, who flanked him on his other side, whispered into his ear, “You owe me another article.”

Just as they reached the door — the bewildered-looking guards stepping aside for them — Sam managed to glance over his shoulder and see the same dumbfounded expressions on the two wardens they’d left at the table.

“Yeah,” Sam whispered, half-bewildered and half-in-awe at this unexpected rescue., “I think I do...”