“Yet another day goes by with a new trouble to be found in Lima. It’s hardly a surprise that yet another break-in occurred today. This time it took place at a bank over on West Elm Street. The guilty party included two young men dressed in all black with masks covering their faces. They were armed and threatening several of those who were trapped. Just as all of the stories of late though, it wasn’t the police that arrived to stop them.

“In his iconic costume, the great Silver Spark once again rose to the challenge and beat the police to the scene of crime. He fought the pair-damaging a window and three chairs in the process-and then returned the money. Just as usual, he didn’t stick around once he was finished his job. Without a word he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived. 

“After the many criminals that Silver Spark has been rounding up, people are starting to gather curiosity about this masked hero. All over the city there are spectators trying to spot him; every news crew in the area wants an exclusive story; we’ve even heard of some hopefully ‘fans’ trying to meet the man in person. It’s fair to say this: he’s a crowd favourite.

“Some people are wondering, though, what this means for our usual source for safety. Business for our local police department seems slower than usual and when asked to comment, most denied to talk and those who did mentioned phrases such as ‘Opinions are undecided’ and ‘Probably just a bunch of kids fooling around’ slipped around. 

“Personally, we believe that maybe the stations are falling behind in comparison to the hero of the hour. Many are questioning why the police haven’t stepped it up, why are they letting this masked man do their jobs? But while the public wonders why some are fit to fight, they sure aren’t complaining about the new fighter in town. This is Rod Remington signing off for the night.”

The tape faded away and the screen began to buzz softly as white and black static crackled across it. For a moment, the man simply stared at the screen, his thoughts heavy, and then he lifted his hand lazily and turned it off with the press of a button. Rubbing his temples, he spun his chair around and laid his arms across the large desk set in front of him. The office around him was dim and messy, silence falling in the closed space. It was late, so the building was mostly empty. 

The boy in the chair in front of him shifted awkwardly but didn’t speak. His eyes were set on the man’s knuckles. His face hid his emotions well, for there was something uneasy swirling about inside of him, a thousand things to be felt but not to be spoken.

The man sighed loudly and in an instant the boy snapped to attention, sitting straight and watching attentively.

“Things are difficult now,” the man said slowly, his low voice sounding like the clap of a thundercloud, “with this new…hero wandering our streets.” He spoke the word hero as though it bothered him. Not bitterly, but as though he was unsettled. “This man is making a lot of trouble for us and others, wouldn’t you agree?”

The boy nodded. “Of course,” he said, swallowing, “but what exactly are you referring to, sir?”

The man smiled grimly. “Young optimism,” he muttered to himself, chuckling. “Well, what you need to see is that this kid is making us look like we aren’t doing much, doesn’t it?”

The boy nodded, but this time more hesitantly.

“We can’t have that though,” the man continued. He slipped a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, setting it to the tip of his cigar. “We are no silly, little city police force and we can’t afford to have this kind of publicity. We’re doing much more than the public can ever see and they just need to realize that. Dressing up in a fancy suit and running around stopping thieves is nothing compared to our work.”

“Of course, sir,” the boy repeated once more as the man took a drag on his cigar, “but what exactly are you proposing then?”

He took the cigar between his fingers, pursing his lips so that his mouth seemed to disappear behind his thick, bushy mustache. “Well, I am proposing that we don’t do anything drastic or that will seek attention from the media, but I say that we track down this hero and we find who he is and we stop him from doing this.”

The boy nearly started to ask him why, but he stopped himself. He searched the man’s face to see if he really meant this, and, when finding no hint of him lying, he furrowed his brow. “Sir, may I ask why?”

“Why what?” the man demanded angrily.

“Why are we stopping someone who’s fighting for good?” he asked a little more carefully.

The man shook his head, “It’s how life works, kid,” he laughed. “When something is going wrong for me, I make it wrong for them.”