TWENTY-ONE

"Falcon."

"Are you alone?"

"Don't insult me."

Even though the man's mask covered his entire face, Zach could still see faint contours in his features. There was a hint of movement; the man's mouth lifted to the side slightly. He didn't reply.

Silence.

It burned.

Zach lasted for about thirty-six seconds. He counted. "So, what do you want?" he asked, unnerved. He couldn't stop himself from filling the quiet. It was probably part of Falcon's plan – blah blah blah. But who had time for that kind of flexing? Zach was not in the mood. "I don't have all night for a pleasant chat. Some of us like to sleep, you know."

Sleep? Amusing.

There was a smooth chuckle. "My, my," Falcon drawled. "Who's the impatient little hero?"

"You're the one who wanted to talk to me," hissed Zach in a low voice. "So, talk."

Falcon touched a gloved finger to his chin. "I suppose we could get to the point," he said, amusement in his tone. The hand disappeared. "I can respect that."

There was another moment silence.

This asshole is purposely drawing this out!

Zach didn't fill the silence this time, enduring each second with the agony of nails on a chalkboard. He waited. And waited.

"Let's say you've… peaked my interest," said Falcon with a languid motion of the hand. "You're a fascinating lad. You're… different than all the others. And I can't help but wonder why you waste your time with the government."

Huh?

Wait, what?

Out of all the things to talk about, this is what Falcon called at midnight to discuss?

I'm different than all the others?

Oh, please.

Did this man think him stupid? He wouldn't be swayed by the honeyed words of a serpent. What an insult.

"I'm fascinating, am I?" asked Zach, folding his arms. He leaned back against the couch. "You, a grown man, finds a sixteen year old kid fascinating?" Zach let out a derisive laugh. "Whatever you're selling, you're going to have to do better than that."

Falcon snorted; he shook his head.

"You're a smart one. I'll give you that."

"What do you want?" demanded Zach. "Get to the damn point or this conversation is over."

"You're so impatient," said Falcon in a chiding tone. "I thought we could have an enjoyable chat."

"At midnight? On a school night? So bored, are you, with blowing up half the city that you gotta ruin my sleep? Get a hobby."

The man inclined his head. "What would you say," Falcon said with a soft whisper, "if I said I knew more about you?"

Fear choked his breath.

He knows.

Of course. A sense of dread overtook his senses. It was going to be a different game, then. Things just got deadly.

"You're trying to mess with my head," said Zach, his tone overconfident. No fear. Show strength. "You're bluffing."

There was another cruel pause.

"Let's analyze the facts, then," said Falcon, his tone mild, as if he were instructing a class. Condescension dripped throughout his inflection. "I have your number. I hacked into your laptop. I know your location. It gets pretty crowded in that little apartment, yes? Too small for six teenagers. Two bedroom, one bath? Tsk."

His stomach churned.

They weren't safe.

"Stop lying," hissed Zach. "You know nothing about us."

"Don't I?" whispered Falcon with a silky drawl. "Zachary James Bennet."

Zach went cold.

It was like someone had dropped a bucket of water filled with ice cubes over his head. A gasp shuddered through his throat. He stiffened. His heart palpitated, fluttering, gasping, dying in his chest. His vision blurred, nearly blackening completely. He sucked in his breath; his vision returned. The hair on his arms rose.

Hearing his name – his full name – out of the mouth of this man in that smooth, obnoxious tone was the most chilling thing Zach had ever experienced.

The man knew.

Fear beyond anything Zach had ever felt in his entire life gripped his heart; he couldn't speak. His breathing quickened. Small, audible breaths were gasping from his mouth. The shadows shifted.

"Identities are fleeting," said Falcon softly. "Did you expect to be protected behind a mask, a piece of fabric? Perhaps you thought the government would protect you…"

Zach couldn't breathe. He would suffocate. He was drowning; horror poured through his veins, poisoning his senses.

"What a foolish boy, so childish and naive to hope for such things. Hmph. The government doesn't care about their tools."

Zach sucked in his breath. Stars popped in his sight; his head felt light. He shivered.

"What do you want?" whispered Zach.

His voice was weak with a quiver. It sounded foreign in his head. He sounded young, like a child calling for their father or mother in the middle of the night, frightened by the beasts that laid beneath the shadows. He quietly cleared his throat, forcing his voice down to its normal pitch.

Oh, how stupid he'd been.

How arrogant of him to think he could outwit this man. If the police and the government couldn't find him, what had possessed Zach's mind to believe that he – a child with botched powers – could take Falcon so easily? This man had been evading capture for years, avoiding intelligent, educated men and women who were experienced in their careers and jobs.

In his arrogance, Zach had willingly fallen into a trap.

The man would, inevitably, blackmail him.

His hearted fluttered in fear. What would that entail? The possibilities were endless and every last one of them were terrifying.

Or…

Would he be like one of those villains in the movies?

'Join me and be free.'

And for a brief, selfish moment, a wish for that rose inside Zach's heart. A life without fear, a life without pressure – what would that be like?

He wouldn't live in fear of losing his family. He wouldn't live with the pressure from Sullivan, from the government, from the world. No worry. No guilt. No pressure. There would be money for food. There would be money for a trip to the dollar store.

And so much more.

He'd have peace.

If Falcon offered such things, should he consider it? Should he think about such a future? Bring it up to his friends for serious consideration?

His heart wavered.

The allure of the enemy was strong.

It would mean turning his back on the right thing. Zach wasn't sure if that was something he wanted to do. Siding with a man who freely killed hundreds of people – and mocked such things…

No.

His father would be ashamed of him; his mother would be disappointed in him.

Joining with a murderer, a terrorist, was the wrong choice. Even if he didn't always feel like one, Zach was a hero. He stood for justice and law when he slipped the mask on. He protected people, even when his powers weren't working. He wasn't perfect, but neither was anyone else. Though the world expected their 'heroes' to be flawless, they weren't.

Being on the other side meant giving up being a hero. Money, security, freedom – were those worth the sacrifice he would have to make? Were the innocents of this world more important than such trivial things?

Were his needs more important than others?

"What do I want?" whispered Falcon, repeating the words slowly. "There are a lot of things that I want. The question is, will you cooperate?"

Zach swallowed, drawing up his courage. A hero… "You know my name. What's your point?" he demanded. "A lot of people do. The government shuts down people who talk about any identities of their Units. Go ahead and talk. Maybe the government will finally find you."

"Who's to say I'll talk about you?" said Falcon lightly.

Zach's stomach swooped downward. "What?" he whispered.

There was a soft, dark laugh. "Do you really think I'll do something so benign as talking about you? Oh, Zachary," Falcon purred. "You're so cute. Information is far more valuable than spreading it around for everyone else. No… No, no, no."

Zach waited. His body remained stiff. He waited for the threat, the thing that would bend Zach's will to whatever this man wanted from him. Zach knew he was drawing this out, dangling it in front of him with the delighted, sadistic pleasure of a cat playing with a mouse.

"It'd be so unfortunate if something happened to your friends," said Falcon lightly. "Didn't a few of them almost die today?" he asked in a mock aghast tone. He shook his head. "You were a bit close to the explosion, weren't you? A few more paces, a few more yards… Tsk. Would've been a right shame." There was another long pause. His next words were slow and deliberate. "Drake, was it? Didn't he almost lose a leg?"

He's watching us.

Zach resisted the urge to look around the living room, every shadow a traitor to their peace and safety, hiding some secret camera.

How long?

How long has he been watching us? How? When? Why?!

There was a soft chuckle. Falcon turned his head to the side slightly and let out a mock sound of surprise.

"Oh, dear. Look at the time," said Falcon. His head turned to face Zach; those masked eyes reflected the light for a brief moment. A shudder slid down Zach's spine. "I think that's enough for one night," he said softly. "It's a school night, isn't it? Wouldn't want you droopy eyed for a day of learning."

"Excuse me?" demanded Zach. "That's it? This conversation isn't over. You tell me what you want from me or I'm going to the chief of police. We'll take our chances."

Waiting for the unknown was a far crueler fate.

"Very well," said Falcon, sounding absurdly pleased. "Still, it is getting rather late. Let's continue this tomorrow night, but in person.

The air disappeared inside Zach's throat. "What?" he croaked.

"Since this is just the beginning of a wonderful relationship," said Falcon with a dark purr. "I think it prudent to dispense with all this—" He made a gesture with his hand, as if trying to find the right word. "—secrecy. And I want to see you. In person. I'll send you the address and you can drop by in the evening tomorrow."

Oh, sure. Like a social call. I'll just drop on by as if we're old friends.

Is this man insane?!

It didn't take someone with an active imagination to think of all the horrible things that could happen to him if he met up with this psychopath. Alone.

"The hell I'm coming over," snapped Zach. "Are you insane? Come on, I'm not that foolish—" Zach used his fingers for dramatic air quotes. "—there's no way. You're a murderer, a criminal, a terrorist, and who knows what else. No way in—"

"I could always visit your little apartment, then," interrupted Falcon with a drawl, his tone heavy with suggestion. Zach inhaled sharply. "You're on the second floor, aren't you? I'm sure your friends wouldn't mind having me over for dinner, hm?"

The torrent of fear plagued his throat. It suffocated his breath; it seized his lungs. Blackness seeped into his sight, white stars sparkling like a night sky. Pound. Pound. Pound. His heart thumped rapidly. Sweat beaded at his temples.

His chest squeezed.

Zach sucked in air, starved for breath.

"Is that a no? Excellent."

His pocket vibrated. Zach slowly pulled his phone out. An address had been texted to him.

"It's only a few blocks from you."

No one could save him.

"Tomorrow night, say… around eight o'clock? Come alone," said Falcon, a hidden smirk lifting his tone. "Oh, and come without your cute mask. You don't need it, after all, Zachary."

Watching us…

How long?

Why?

"I could always tell the police," whispered Zach, half to himself. His words were stronger than his shaky voice. "They'll find you and arrest you. I could tell them."

I should tell them.

They would capture him.

"You could," said Falcon with an upward lilt in his voice. Then, he let out a single, breathy chuckle. He leaned closer to the camera. "But you won't."

Click.

The screen was black, with the backlight still illuminating the darkness.

Zach clamped a hand over his mouth and bolted to his feet. He darted to the bathroom, just in time to double over the toilet bowl. There, he retched the contents of his dinner – the dinner that had been prepared with such laughter and happiness.

Those moments felt like a lifetime ago.

Zach shuddered and gasped over the bowl; he retched again. Bile burned his throat. Tears squeezed from his eyes.

Once his body calmed down, Zach cleaned up and washed out his mouth. There was still an awful taste on his tongue. He stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the couch. His arms curled into his chest, while his hands dragged over his face.

There, he silently cried, feeling more vulnerable than a newborn kitten. His mind paralyzed his body with a powerful paralytic: fear.

I shouldn't go.

If I do… this man could do anything to me. Anything.

But if I don't go, he'll kill them.

There was no escape.

The tears streamed down his face, yet a strange sense of calm washed over his senses. One thought above everything else seemed to anchor him.

Even if he had to sacrifice his soul, he would do it. Zach would do anything to protect his friends. Even if he had to suffer, even if he had to do things against his moral code…

I would do it.

For them.

And so, all he could do was cry this night away. He wasn't supposed to do that, but he couldn't stop himself. It only reiterated his weakness.

So what.

He was weak.

His tears were hot. His cheeks became damp. He pushed his face into the cushion of the sofa. He sobbed.

Alone.

Terrified.

Come morning, he would act like nothing had happened, like he hadn't spent the night crying. He would go to school, laugh with his friends, eat dinner with them, and smile with reassurance. Tomorrow night, he would go. He would go to this address and meet Falcon. The man would blackmail him, somehow, someway – and Zach would do whatever he wanted.

For them.

Maybe his tears would soften the heart of some deity. Would they hear his cries? Maybe his powers would resurface just long enough for Zach to overpower Falcon.

Or maybe not.

No matter what happened, he would endure – for his friends, he would endure.

There was no safety in the shadows.