The school day went by slowly. Every clock in the building was conspiring against Kevin. Throughout the day, he received notifications for the videos he’d uploaded to the forensics app. They only confirmed what Blackout already knew: Deliberate External Interference. When last period finally came, Kevin couldn’t help but look around his class, wondering which one of his classmates, if any, was Grace’s mole. As she did everyday, Mrs. Blackwell relentlessly denigrated Kevin. He was so distracted by the case, that he barely even noticed. Kevin was out the door the moment the bell rang.

On his way to the alley, Kevin spotted Deut, pestering people walking into and out of a bodega. As he was not yet in costume, Kevin was in no position to approach him. After hurriedly suiting up, Blackout returned to the bodega, but Deut was no longer haunting it. Luckily, he didn’t get far. Blackout found Old Deut in front of Wasserman’s Deli, trying to charm some poor soul into giving him his sandwich. Blackout walked over and broke it up.

“Hey! I almost had him!” Deut disparaged.

“Can I ask you about something, Deut?”

“You better replace the meal you just lost me.”

“Turkey on rye?”

“And a soda. Root beer.”

“That guy didn’t have a soda.”

“It’s for-you know-Emotional distress.”

“Yeah, yeah. You seem real distressed, Deut.”

Blackout pushed open the door to the deli.

“Make sure you get me a can from the back of the fridge. I like it cold.”

Blackout placed Deut’s order. Mr. Wasserman saw Blackout from the back and came up to the counter.

“Yo, Mr. Hero, can you get that bum outta here? He’s scaring away all my customers,” Mr. Wasserman said.

“Hey man, the guy’s just trying to eat.”

“My kids gotta eat. For that, I gotta sell sandwiches, pal.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll handle it.”

“You’re alright, Blackhole.”

“It’s Blackout.”

“Big whoop.”

Blackout paid for Deut’s sandwich, and left the store. Deut was waiting by the door, rubbing his hands together and licking his lips like a cartoon character. He grasped for the food eagerly, but Blackout pulled back.

“Come on, man! Gimme!” Deut whined.

“I want to make a deal with you,” Blackout said.

“I already told you: give me the sandwich and the soda, and I’ll answer whatever questions you got.”

“No, this is a different thing. I want you to leave the deli customers alone. For every week you’re not in front of the deli, I’ll by you any sandwich and soda you want.”

Deut took a moment to weigh the offer.

“I want dessert too.”

“I can’t afford dessert every week, Deut! How about once a month?”

“I’ll take pity on you, young man. We have a deal.”

“I’m gonna check with Mr. Wasserman every week to make sure you’re holding up your end.”

“Man, Wass is an asshole!”

“This is America, you’re allowed to be an asshole here.”

“You got that right.”

Blackout handed Deut the sandwich. Deut wasted no time ripping it out of the bag and tearing off a large, ravenous chunk with his teeth.

“What you want to ask me?” Deut’s voice was muffled with sandwich.

“In the last two weeks, every electronics store in town got hit-”

“I did it.”

“Sure you did.”

“I did ‘em all.”

“Did I just waste my money, Deut?”

“I’m afraid so, young man.”

Blackout sighed and began walking away. Deut ran up beside him.

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m just playin’. I know all them stores got hit. I saw the guy who did it.”

“You did??” Blackout practically jumped with excitement.

“I didn’t get a look at his face. He was always wearing a mask or a scarf or something. But I saw him comin’ outta the stores and gettin’ away.”

“Did you see where he was going?”

“A couple times. I followed him. He always went a couple blocks past the station on 191st. After that, I lost him.”

“Whoah, thanks Deut! Anything else you noticed about him?”

“Yeah, the dude was a camel.”

“A camel?”

“He walked around all hunched over.” Deut did an impression of the guy taking labored steps. In his reenactment, Deut put heavy emphasis on the hunchback.

Blackout thanked Deut one final time, and left him at the corner. Deut wandered over to a nearby bench to finish his sandwich and throw some of his bread to the pigeons. There was no chance Blackout was going back to the clubhouse. Furthermore, Chunk and the Gecko had made it abundantly clear that they had no interest in pursuing the case, so there was no reason to regroup. The only person who seemed to want to help him solve it was Grace. It provided a perfect excuse to head over to Phan’s Bakery. When he got there, Grace was idly playing on her phone behind the counter, as there were no customers to serve. At the sound of the bell, Grace looked to Blackout, and lit up with a smile, almost as if she’d been waiting for him.

“Did you talk to Deut?” Grace asked.

“Yeah, he was bothering people at the deli-”

Blackout filled Grace in as to what he’d been told by Deut.

“Even knowing he’s up in that area, what am I going to do? Go knocking on doors? Stakeout electronic stores? Nobody has any more batteries. How am I supposed to find this guy?”

“Actually, I had an idea. I’ve been thinking about this all day. If this guy is using powers or a device to disrupt video feeds when he’s robbing stores, he’d totally use it to keep people from finding his base of operations right?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“So maybe we could watch people’s social media videos walking around the streets and stuff. If we see a glitch like the one in the security videos, we’ll know we’re getting close. If we can find more than one, it’ll triangulate, and we can find exactly where he is.”

“Wow…That’s actually a really great idea.”

“Suggestion Girl.” Grace fired off finger guns, blowing fake smoke off of one, and holstering it.

“After what Deut told us, we have a good idea of where to start looking. Do you have any friends you follow that live up there or go to school there?”

“Tons. How about you?”

“I know a few people.”

“Maybe we have some mutuals…” Grace said all sly.

“We’re trying to find a criminal, not my secret identity.”

“I know, I know.”

The next hour or so, Grace and Blackout were glued to their phones, watching the inane videos of their peers. The teens in the videos were buzzing around the Heights, shopping, eating, making inside jokes, but mostly just doing nothing in particular. It was mind numbing, and there wasn’t a hint of a glitch in any videos either suffered through. As Blackout hopped from one video to another, he noticed Grace surreptitiously typing into her phone’s notes. It was list of people whose videos Blackout had specifically searched for.

“Not cool, Grace,” Blackout said.

Grace let out an “Eep,” and looked up at Blackout, caught and guilty.

“Ok, I’ll delete it. You can’t delete it out of my brain, though.”

Before Blackout could stop her, Grace held up her phone, concentrating on the list of names, committing as many as she could to memory.

“Ok, now delete,” Blackout insisted.

“Ok, jeez,” Grace groused.

Blackout watched as Grace deleted the file. Her attention was quickly pulled to Blackout’s phone.

“Hey, what’s that?” Grace pointed.

“What?”

“Rewind your video like five seconds.”

It was a video of Eddie Torres, a guy Kevin had fostered with in his last stop before the group home. Kevin hadn’t had reason to talk to Eddie since, but knew from social media that he was currently housed around their search area. Eddie had uploaded a pathetic attempt at a thirst trap as he seductively licked ice cream out of a cone. As he turned the camera, his screen went grainy, just for a moment. Blackout immediately recognized it as the same glitch he’d seen in the security videos.

“Wait, where is that?” Blackout rewound the video again to try to find a recognizable landmark.

“Look at the wrapper around his cone. That’s Roberta’s Creamery! I love that place.”

“I’ve never been there. Where is it?”

“It’s by the park. Like right at the bottom of the park, near the school.”

“If it’s by the school, we can start narrowing down our search to videos of kids at that school, and focus on the ones taken around the school day.”

It quickly became evident that the glitch was not within range of the school itself. However, once they shifted their window to those walking to and from the school, they started getting hits. At first it was only one or two, but that allowed them to hone in further. Soon, they found that every video that fit within their shrinking search parameters experienced glitching. After each glitch, they dropped a pin on a digital map

“What’s in that building?” Blackout asked pointing to the nexus of their pins.

“Google has it listed as a cosmetics factory. The brand’s last twitter post is from like two years ago, thanking everyone for support. I think they’re out of business.”

“That’s where he is,” Blackout said, packing his phone away securely in a hidden pocket of his suit.

“You’re going now?” Grace asked incredulously.

“Yeah…” Blackout responded, not quite understanding her hesitancy.

“Shouldn’t you, like, call the other Knights?”

“They think this is still just a petty theft case. They’re not interested.”

“So you’re just going to go alone?” Concern had seeped into Grace’s voice.

Blackout shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“What if it’s dangerous?”

“That’s part of being a hero.”

Grace dropped her argument, and instead stared at Blackout with an expression full of reverence. It made him feel genuinely heroic. Even his voice became more confident and authoritative.

“Do you have your Community Guild Rep’s number?”

Grace nodded as a response, listening intently.

“If I don’t text you an update in three hours, call the rep and tell them everything. They’ll send a rescue team. I need your number.”

Without hesitation, Grace rattled off her phone number. Blackout entered it into his guild phone, and shot Grace a text so she’d have his.

“Be careful, ok?” The concern was back in Grace’s voice, even heavier than before.

“I’ll see you soon.”

The two exchanged glances of farewell, and then Blackout was off. Grace’s apprehension had infected him. For a few moments, he considered calling Chunk and the Gecko and pleading with them to accompany him, but then thought better of it. He didn’t need to debase himself any further. It was only once he was a few blocks away from the bakery that he realized that he’d scored Grace Phan’s number.

The building appeared as if it had been meant to be much larger, but was somehow crammed into the suboptimal allotment of land on which it sat. Nobody was around. There was something foreboding about it, though that could have been due to Blackout’s expectations of what was inside.

Blackout sat on a metal chair in the little seating area outside of Roberta’s Creamery. The store was right across the street from the factory. He had been pleasantly surprised to see a sign in the window that said, “Hunger Heroes”. Hunger Heroes was a partnership program that businesses could sign up for through the Guild. Partnered establishments offered all sorts of discounts and coupons to heroes, that could be accessed on an app on any guild issued phone. Sure enough, when Blackout pulled up Roberta’s on the app, he found that he was entitled to a free cone. He eagerly redeemed it for a vanilla soft serve with chocolate sprinkles.

The ice cream was more than a delicious treat. Every hero had a pre-fight ritual, and many chose to fuel up. Blackout always made sure to eat something sugary, as he felt it made him more alert. It wasn’t a certainty that there would even be a fight. Sometimes the villain simply surrendered. Blackout wasn’t betting on it this time. The few times he’d seen it happen, it was invariably when the villains were outnumbered. For the first time, Blackout would be going in alone.

As he ate, Blackout staked out the abandoned factory. No one who passed gave the building a second look. It would be silly to think that the villain who’d gone through such lengths to obfuscate his identity while stealing batteries would walk in and out of the front door of his secret hideout. Consequently, Blackout was watching the alleys on the side. One of his secondary powers was the ability to see in even the darkest conditions. Any villain thinking they could hide in the shadows were exposing themselves to him. Nothing in either alley so much as stirred.

Suddenly, Blackout felt his chest buzz. Then, a second time. He dug his phone out of his suit to investigate. Grace had texted him twice.

Good luck! Accompanied by a heart emoji.

A heart. Blackout cautioned himself not to look too deeply into it.

Kick some ass! A foot and a peach emoji.

Blackout agonized over how to reply. Should he try to be funny? No, too risky. Should he try to act tough? No, too cringe. He settled on a simple, inoffensive, “Thanks!”. It was safe, and Blackout was a coward.

The message idled on “sending” for much longer than normal. Blackout realized that whatever the villain was using to glitch videos, it also jammed phone signals. In the foot or so his phone had moved since Grace had texted him, it seemed it had entered the range of the jammer. Blackout pulled his phone back, closer to his chest, and the message went through. Only a few seconds later, he received a response.

Bring me back a battery

Blackout chuckled. His fingers didn’t wait for his brain to second guess as he typed out a response.

I’ll grab 3

Again, Blackout received an immediate response.

You’re my hero

It was obviously sarcastic. Still, it made Blackout’s heart jump. He couldn’t help but dwell on it, fantasizing the words as sincere. There wasn’t much time to daydream, as he had reached the bottom of his cone. No more procrastinating; it was time to go.

Gaining entry to the factory had been relatively smooth. The alley was easy to shroud. Though the windows on the ground floor had been locked, there was a fire escape that Blackout was able to to climb. Getting in was as simple as pushing a second floor window open.

The factory was predictably dusty and decrepit. The whole place had been stripped, but was relatively clean of graffiti. There was little cover for Blackout to hide behind if the situation called for it. That meant he’d be heavily reliant on modulating his darkness to appear natural. It was a skill he’d only gotten the hang of about a year ago, but he’d quickly become reliant on it. The only drawback was how much focus it required. He’d need to clear his head, and keep his mind on it, or else it would just snap to full dark. That meant going slow.

The dynamic of the Knights was a give and take between Chunk’s reckless abandon and Blackout’s gratuitous caution. Without Chunk to moderate him, Blackout could be as careful as he wanted. Normally, his shroud kept any sound within it from escaping. However, while he modulated, the noise was merely muffled. Every step he took was ginger and silent. Around every corner, he expected to see movement, but there was none. His nerves had crept all the way up to his throat. Every false jump only ratcheted up his anxiety further.

As Blackout reached a staircase, he began hearing faint noises from below. The staircase was too exposed for his liking, but there was no alternate route. As he made his way down the steps, the noises began to separate and become distinct from each other. There were different mechanical sounds. Some great machine was whirring off in the distance, while smaller mechanisms were buzzing much closer. Two voices rose from obscurity. At first, it was impossible to make out what was being said. Blackout passed the first floor, and descended into the basement. As he reached the bottom, the voices became clearer.

“Not that one, you nitwit! The conduit! The conduit!” A nasally voice scolded.

“Don’t yell at me!” A slower, dopier voice protested.

The voices squabbled further, allowing Blackout to sneak into the room unnoticed. The room was enormous. This must have been where much of the manufacturing took place. None of the factory machinery was left behind. Instead, there was junk everywhere. It was all electronics or metal stock. Odds and ends of computer parts intermingled with sheets of steel. Towers of boxes were distributed randomly throughout the room. Blackout recognized a pile of flotsam as the dedicated husks of what had previously been cellphone batteries.

In the center of the room sat the centerpiece of whatever this operation was. The sight of it rendered Blackout petrified. It was a pod of some kind. Behind the curved glass, Flash Bang was positioned upright, unconscious, and restrained. Wires burrowed into his body, costume torn open at the sides, blood clotted around their entry points. Around the wires, Flash Bang’s skin was charred black. The base of the pod was steel, with wires laced in and out of holes, springing from cracks between sheets. Nearby was another mechanism, this one seemed to be where all the wires led. On its face was a control panel.

The voices got closer. Blackout darted behind a wall of crates.

“Ha! Thought you were tough, big ol’ Flash Flash! Called us a freak! Said I belong in a zoo! Punched me in my face! Now look at you! You’re in the zoo! You’re the FREAK!” The Dopey voice taunted, presumably at Flash Bang.

“He can’t hear you, you mongoloid! Leave the do-gooder, and bring us to the control module!” The nasally voice ordered.

Us? Why would he need the other one to bring him to the panel? Was he in a wheelchair? Blackout hadn’t heard any wheels. In fact, he’d only heard one set of footsteps. Was the dopey one carrying the nasally one? Curiosity got the Better of Blackout, and he attempted to steal a peak at the interlocutors.

Blackout craned his neck, just far enough to get a glimpse. The creature that stood at the panel was shirtless. A half formed, child sized man was growing out of the back of another, muscular man. They were arranged like a piggy back. This was undoubtedly the hump Deut had observed. The adult sized man was bent over, allowing the child sized conjoined twin to work diligently at the control panel. It was the Isakov Abomination.

An immobilizing chill spread throughout Blackout’s body. He yanked his head back into hiding. The furious pumping of his lungs and his jelly legs threatened to collapse him right there. The only thing keeping him upright was the same terror that paralyzed him.

The Isakovs were not normal villains. There was something of a gentlemen’s agreement between the heroes and villains of how defeat was handled. A certain degree of respect and dignity was maintained. Villains schemed, heroes foiled. If a hero won, the villain would go to jail. If the villain won, the hero would be ransomed back to the guild. There was, however, a class of villain that even other villains shuddered at. These villains did not abide by any agreement. Their only boundaries were their own inclinations. They maimed, tortured, and killed heroes. Some did so serially, and above all other goals. These were the villains that newbies were warned about in hushed tones. They were the reason younger heroes were advised to stick to teams until they earned some confidence. The inexperienced solo heroes were easy prey for this depraved class of villains. Blackout was all alone.

If Blackout was discovered, the Isakovs would delight in his slaughter.