The sun has long set.

The city, a bustling hive during the day, has fallen dark and quiet.

The witching hour approaches, when only those with menace in their minds and evil in their hearts prowl the streets.

There are many who prey on the innocent, but in the presence of one, they all pale.

He is the one that other villains fear.

From out of the shadows slips his lithe figure, limber as a jungle cat and twice as ferocious, dressed in a uniform of blood red.

And he goes by the name of Viper.

This infamous villain, terrorizing the streets of New York, travels the rooftops unchecked, unopposed, enacting his nefarious deeds on those hardworking, law-abiding citizens who brave the night.

Too long as this beast been at large, too dangerous to capture, evading all forms of vigilante justice.

Even the police of this great city have been advised to look the other way in matters of Viper.

Does no one have the courage to stand up for what's right?

To guide the city out of the dark and into the light?

Yes.

There is one.

One with the fortitude to stand up against this fearsome foe.

One who believes in his heart that not only can he stop Viper's reign of terror, but that the man inside the monster can be rehabilitated, made to stand trial for his crimes, and return to society a reformed man.

One who will sacrifice all, including his heart, to keep his city safe.

He works alone.

He wears a mask.

And he goes by the name of…

Nightbird.

“Turn yourself in, Viper! There's nowhere for you to run!”

“You'll never catch me, Nightbird!” Viper tosses over his shoulder as he races through the alleys, scaling brick-walled buildings with ease to get to the canopy of the city.

“Oh, I intend to do more than just catch you, Viper,” Nightbird promises. “You will answer for the fear hold you've kept over this city.” Nightbird pursues his quarry, loosing his lasso, aiming for the nimble minx mid-leap. The first toss misses, and Viper laughs, cackling as he takes the leap from one ledge to another.

“You'll have to do better than that if you want to catch me!” Viper jeers. “But I'm not going to give you another chance.”

The next gap between buildings is wider, more treacherous, and Viper knows that when he makes it, he'll be rid of his superhero hunter once and for all.

Unless this so-called Nightbird can actually fly. Viper would like to see him try.

Viper jumps onto the ledge and makes his leap in one fluid move, gliding across the alley in a single bound…

…but halfway over, something loops around his middle, pulling him hard backward through the chill night air. Viper hits the ground hard, knocking the wind from his lungs, and the strength from his body. He wiggles to break free, but he can't. He doesn't understand. He's fallen before, and he's always been able to bounce right back.

It's not the fall, he realizes. It's the lasso. Something about this cord strangling his midsection has him immobilized. It doesn't just trap his body, it jumbles his thoughts, making it impossible for him to come up with a plan.

A shadow blocks his view of the sky, and suddenly, Nightbird is there, standing over him. Nightbird gazes down at him with a victorious grin on his lips, but sorrow in his golden eyes, as he watches his worthy adversary struggle to escape.

“Curse you, Nightbird!” Viper hisses, not willing to succumb beneath the might of his superhero captor. “Curse you to the thousand rings of hell!”

“Like I said before, there's nowhere for you to run, Viper,” Nightbird declares. “There's no escaping...justice.” The sage superhero looks majestically off into the distance, and his supervillain captive stares up at him in awe. Then he snickers. Then he full out guffaws, laughing so hard that the rope wrapped around him loosens and unravels.

Nightbird looks down at Viper, doubled over, squinted eyes leaking tears, and stomps his foot.

“Kuuurt! This is the third time!” Blaine whines. “We only have this parkour studio to ourselves till tomorrow, and you're really killing the mood!”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt chokes. “It's just…that line…it's so…”

“Don't say it,” Blaine says, his face straight.

“Lame,” Kurt finishes, wiping tears from his eyes. “I was going to say lame.”

“Well, don't say that either,” Blaine pouts. “And please stop laughing. You said I got to pick how we celebrated tonight.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Kurt says, all apologies. “I can't help it. I was just thinking about that article they printed about us in the society pages. What would our fans in the theater community say if they really knew what Broadway's superstar husbands Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel are really doing to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary?”

“They asked what we were doing to celebrate the day.” Blaine drops to his knees and straddles his husband. “They didn't ask about the lurid and indecent things we were planning to do tonight.”

“Yeah, well, this cosplay thing might be a kink we want to keep to ourselves.”

“I don't know” – Blaine straightens his cape – “It could strengthen our appeal in the male teenage to late 20's demographic. It might even push us over the threshold from superstar to legend status.”

“If that's the case,” Kurt laughs, “I'm not sure I want to be a legend.” Kurt squirms out of his lasso prison, tossing the cord aside. “So, Nightbird, shall we go back to competing for superhero-supervillain supremacy?”

“You're going to have to give me a minute,” Blaine says, standing back up and re-adjusting his costume. “I think I've lost my mind space.”

“I hope you haven't lost your boner.”

“No, yeah,” Blaine replies. “That died when you started laughing.”

“Well, well, well,” Kurt purrs, reaching into his supervillain utility pack and pulling out a pair of shiny silver cuffs, “maybe Viper can do something to help bring it back to life.”