| Chicago - September 9
Joseph stood hidden in the shadows of Carla Viti's penthouse, watching as she entered the room in a house robe, her bare feet padding softly across the floor. She moved to the massive windows, gazing out over the Chicago skyline.
He took a single step forward—just loud enough to be heard.
She spun around, pistol raised without hesitation.
Interesting. Her robe didn't seem to have pockets. Where had the gun co from?
Ignoring that question, he smirked. Surprising people like this was fun. No wonder Batman did it so often. In a grim city like Gotham amusent was rare.
"Nova?" she asked, startled.
"In the flesh," Joseph replied smoothly.
He rembered the first ti they t. Back then, he'd gone full drama mode—floating midair with arms folded behind his back, catching the chandelier light just right so the gold accents on his suit glead. When she fired at him, he stopped the bullet midair and pointed it back at her without a word.
Sa thing with Dizzy, when she tried to end her life. He'd stopped the bullet, then lifted her into the sky for a heart-to-heart. A little theatrical, sure—but it had worked.
As Wally had once said when Joseph had first joined the Team, Joseph had a "brooding mysterious thing" going on.
Looking back now, it was kinda cringe. Cool powers had made him a little vain, and he'd seized every chance to look impressive. Probably the influence of all that xianxia he'd been reading at the ti. But honestly, what teenage boy wouldn't want to look stoic and radiate aura?
With ti, though—with more experience and real power—he'd outgrown that phase.
The truly strong don't need to look cool all the ti. After all, Batman and Superman walked around with their underwear on the outside and they were still respected.
Carla lowered her gun. "What are you doing here?"
Joseph activated his telepathy. "Just checking in. Wanted to make sure my rules were still being followed during my two-week absence. No hard drugs, no trafficking, and no civilian casualties in case you needed a reminder."
Normally, he avoided reading minds—everyone deserved privacy. But when innocent lives were at risk, he made exceptions.
Her thoughts were clear. She'd followed his rules. Not because she was particularly kind, but because it made sense. A clean empire attracted less heat—from both the feds and heroes.
But she had resud selling so softer drugs: marijuana, acid, shrooms.
"There are rumors," she said carefully, "that Mayor Wallace is connected to the earthquakes that've been damaging buildings across the city recently. But other than that, things are under control."
Joseph's tone shifted—lower, firr. "Anything else I should know?"
She hesitated. Then wisely decided honesty was safer.
"We did resu so distribution. Only soft stuff. No hard drugs, just like you said. If it's an issue, we'll stop imdiately."
Smart woman.
"I don't mind," he said. "If they don't get it from you, they'll find it elsewhere. Better that you control it. Just make sure the wrong people don't get access. For example, I don't want single mothers on LSD. Catch my drift?"
"Absolutely. That's fair."
"Good." He walked toward the balcony. "Keep doing what you do best. I hope this partnership lasts."
Then he flew off into the sky.
One task off the checklist.
**
With that handled, he flew over Chicago.
He didn't fly fast. There was no urgency. Instead, he glided slowly above the city, letting the morning sun catch on his suit, leaving a faint gold shimr in his wake.
A child on a rooftop playground looked up and pointed. "Mommy, look! It's Nova!"
More eyes turned skyward.
As he passed over downtown, the reaction grew. People stopped. Pointed. Smiled. Took photos. And then, they began to wave.
Joseph blinked.
They were waving at him.
Hundreds of them. Then thousands.
He slowed down even more, descending as cheers erupted from the ground below. "Nova!" soone shouted.
Then more: "Nova! Nova! Nova!"
A chant. It rippled across the rooftops and down the streets.
Joseph paused in mid-air, heart faintly speeding up in his chest—not from exertion, but emotion. He dropped to the rooftop of a comrcial building nearby, and the crowd surged to get a better view.
He raised a hand and waved.
The cheers intensified. Many took selfies and pictures. A little boy on his father's shoulders held up a purple and gold Nova action figure.
He hadn't given the permission for his likeness to be used. He'd have to look into that and get compenstion later.
Joseph couldn't help but smile.
'They love .'
Not for the power. Not for the fear. But for what he represented. Protection. Justice.
Like Superman with tropolis. Like Batman with Gotham.
Chicago was his.
**
| ??? - September 9
In a dimly lit penthouse lined with expensive art and technology that scread wealth and secrecy, a TV displayed the live feed.
A sharp-dressed anchor was mid-report:
"Cat Grant reporting from the scene in Downtown Chicago where Nova has made a triumphant return following Thanagar's betrayal. Citizens are flooding the streets, clearly overjoyed to see their protector—"
Click.
The screen turned black as a well-dressed man in a charcoal suit and gray fedora turned off the monitor.
He stood silently, hands clasped behind his back, watching the reflection of the city through the floor-to-ceiling glass window.
Behind him, another figure approached, tall and lean, with power in his every step.
"Have you gathered all the mbers, Hunter?" the man in the hat asked.
"Yeah," another man replied. "They're under control. Just give the word and we can set the plan in motion."
The man in the hat didn't answer imdiately. He studied the skyline.
"No," he said at last, voice smooth but cold. "Not yet. That item hasn't appeared. But when it does…"
He turned, his face finally visible in the low light. A smooth jaw. An everpresent smirk. Eyes that glead with intellect and danger.
"…the Society will make its entrance."
User Comments
0 comments from readers