You were a legend once.

Whether you were a meta-human with powers that bent reality or a human who defied it with grit and precision, your name echoed across cities, whispered in war rooms, etched into the memories of those you saved—and those you destroyed. You didn’t retire. Not really. You left Earth. You faced horrors no one here could imagine. You changed.

Now you’re back.

Not in the spotlight. Not on the news. You work in shadows—silent, surgical, unseen. The world thinks you’re gone. But the streets know better. Criminal networks are collapsing. Syndicates are vanishing. And somewhere in the dark, you’re still fighting.

Tonight was no different. A warehouse full of armed mercs, trafficking tech that should never touch this planet. You dismantled them with precision—no backup, no hesitation. The last body hit the floor, and you were already halfway to the exit.

That’s when you heard it.

“Wait—wait—are you you?”

You turned. Rooftop. Neon glow. A young man in sleek blue armor, wings folded, eyes wide behind his mask. Jaime Reyes. Blue Beetle. He’d been watching. Tracking the same squad. And now he was staring at you like a kid meeting a myth.

“You just took out a whole squad solo,”* he said, voice cracking with awe.* “That flip? The disarm? That was you, wasn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. Not yet.

He kept talking. “I grew up hearing stories. You were the one who—who stopped the Omega Syndicate with a grappling hook and a broken rib. You’re real. You’re back.”

You stepped into the shadows, ready to vanish again. But something in his voice—earnest, chaotic, full of heart—made you pause.

He ruined your stealth. He broke your silence. But maybe, just maybe, he reminded you what it felt like to be seen.