When he finally ascended the stairs and stepped out into the light, Qhawa was waiting. Leaned against the skimmer, the wind flailing her raven black hair. She gave him a searching look.
"Did you find anything, Jett?"
"No. There's nothing here."
"Did you leave something behind?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"The past. No more looking back for me, Qhawa. There's only what I am now. And what I have to do from this point forward."
Qhawa smiled. "Do you know where the name Vigil comes from?"
"Vigilante, I'd guess."
"No. It's after the act of staying awake when others are asleep. Keeping watch. Being vigilant. That's why Wayne Thomas chose the name. And now that is you if you're ready. Are you ready, Jett?"
"I'm ready."
Ronnie Banks blinked open her eyes.
"Isaac!"
"Easy, Banks. You've been through the wringer."
She cautiously raised herself. She was in a hospital bed. Consoles displaying her vitals winked from their attachments, and a slender android paused in the act of placing a tray of food on the retractable tray.
Chief Moore gave her an encouraging smile from the chair in the corner. "They said you'd be waking up. Thought I'd be here for the good news."
"How long have I been out?"
"Little over twelve hours since you were dropped off. About a day before that."
She rubbed her temples, trying to collect her thoughts. "Dropped off? I don't remember what happened."
"All we can piece together is that someone took you away from the scene and put you in an Accelerated Healing Process Pod. After you knitted up, the person dropped you off on the rooftop of the hospital."
"Are you serious? Who did it?"
Moore shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. Surveillance caught nothing. Whoever the good Samaritan was, doctors say he saved your life."
Ronnie leaned back into her pillows, suddenly exhausted. "Is Isaac okay?"
"He's fine. It was only his body that was blown to bits. We have another unit getting prepped for alignment. Once it finishes, you'll have your partner up and running again."
"What about Nora Brewer?"
"She never knew she was targeted. She was at home when you had your run-in with the Hellrazors. Saw some of it from her window. We've informed her of the danger and got her out the city in protective custody. She'll have to relocate to another location, but at least she's alive. You saved her life, Ronnie."
She nodded. "What's the Commissioner saying? Am I… finished?"
"Commish can't say anything at the moment, Banks. Seems the man had a heart attack."
"What?"
"Yeah. Came sudden and severe. Transplant is undergoing right now, but I can't say how things will go. Let's just say you're not at the top of his mind right now."
"I'm… sorry to hear that."
"I bet you are. Listen, I got a real juggling act going on with the Commish out. Gotta make some calls and see some people. Be back to check on you. Take it easy, now, Banks. The AHPP might have saved your life, but you need a lot of rest to recover. Make sure you get it. That's an order."
She gave a weak smile. "Yes, sir."
He tapped a vase of flowers on the windowsill. "These came from your friend. He's been by a few times."
"My friend?"
"Yeah. Jett Wolfe. I think he likes you." Moore gave her a gruff smile. "Rest up, Agent."
She waited until the door closed behind him before she sat up. The room was cold, the air processed with a stale medicinal scent. The sensation of isolation crept in around her like ghostly tendrils.
She glanced at the flower vase. An e-note notification flashed on the front, pulsing in a friendly green color. She reached over and pressed play.
A hologram beamed from the button, morphing into a profile image of Jett. At that size, it was easy to study his chiseled features. It wasn't the hardened, dead-eyed visage of Big Top. Jett's eyes were dark but full of life — weariness, melancholy, determination, wry humor — all of it and more glimmered in his gaze.
"Hi, Ronnie. Trying to get the hang of this thing. Hope this comes out right. I was sorry to hear about your injuries. I talked to your Chief — Moore I think he said his name was. He told me you were lucky. Should be back on your feet soon. Oh, and Mira is safe. She'll be taken care of, so no worries about that. You can check in with her whenever you feel up to it."
He cleared his throat. "Guess that's it. Not gonna take up your time — I know you have friends and family there. Get well soon, and… I'll see you around."
The message shut off. Ronnie sat cross-legged on the bed and glanced around at the empty room.
"Friends and family. Yeah, sure."
She glanced at her holoband. It was programmed to record everything if she lost consciousness. She opened the screen, flicked it to the wall, and rewound the footage.
"What the hell?"
Most of it was static, the recording disturbed by outside interference. Blurred shapes, garbled voices. Impossible to piece together or decipher.
The only clean footage was right after the explosion. Debris rained down; the air rang with gunfire and detonations. Nothing was visible in the camera's eye other than fire, smoke, and dancing shadows.
The sounds of combat finally died down. Voices were barely audible, too far away to hear clearly. Then the sound of footsteps as they approached. A shadowy figure leaned over, picking her up and standing. His voice was clearly audible, though flat and robotic from the silvery helmet that covered his entire head.
"We'll keep her sedated. Just get it prepped, Incognito. I'm headed your way."
The surroundings blurred and the footage returned to complete static. Ronnie quickly rewound to the clear image of the man's helmet. Her unconscious face reflected from the burnished surface, battered and bloody. The helmet revealed nothing, no clue of what the mysterious person might look like. But the design of the helmet was close enough to recognize from old footage.
She stared at the screen with disbelieving eyes. "I'll be damned. Vigil. You're real. Whoever you are, you're real." A thought reluctantly followed the statement.
Whoever you are, I owe you my life.
Buoyant movement. The sensation of rising. Emerging from the depths.
Triumphant.
Incognito's voice in his ear. "Okay, Vigil. Testing the portable hangar unit. These will be stationed in abandoned buildings around the city, each equipped with a suit, supplies, and weapons depot. Perfect for emergency situations."
The interior lights brightened. The portable hangar was the size of an elevator. Vigil stepped into the designated portion of the floor. Mechanical arms whirred, placing armor on and locking it into place. The last task was the helmet, visor whirring over his face with a hissing sound.
The door hissed open, spilling vapor into the hangar. Vigil stepped out into the cold night. Cables were still attached to his helmet, performing the latest systems updates.
"Running a diagnostic test."
Vigil waited, checking energy clip on his neothermic handgun. The hangar unit was deployed on a dilapidated skyscraper high above the haze of the glimmering city districts. Snow trickled from dirty clouds, sparkling in the muted light. Haven Core was stationed on his left, glimmering like a half-buried Christmas ornament.
"Everything checks out. Deploying ECMs."
The electronic countermeasure drones whirled out, tiny black pyramids emitting electronic chaff to make him invisible to surveillance. He held out his gloved hand. One of the ECMs drifted over, hovering over his palm.
"Last thing, Incognito."
"Of course. The cape." Incognito's voice was slightly sardonic over the line.
The shape memory polymer fabric unfurled from its housing around Vigil's neck, snapping and fluttering in the wind.