Marcus was walking home from I-Ching's dojo when his enhanced hearing picked up the sound.
Breaking glass. Shouting. A woman screaming. Three blocks north.
He stopped on the sidewalk, his hand already reaching for his phone to call Bullock.
Phase 1 complete. 150 abilities. Advanced combat training. Medical knowledge. Tactical awareness.
Am I ready? Or am I about to do something spectacularly stupid?
More screaming. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
Guess we're finding out.
Marcus made a decision.
He called Bullock first. "Armed robbery in progress. Corner of 5th and Morrison. Multiple suspects. I'm moving to intervene."
"Reid, wait for—"
Marcus hung up, already running. His enhanced speed ate up the distance. Three blocks in under thirty seconds.
Really should have stretched first. I-Ching would be disappointed in my warm-up routine.
The convenience store was lit up, the front window shattered. Through the broken glass Marcus could see three men inside. Two with guns pointed at the clerk and a customer. One stuffing cash from the register into a bag.
Three armed suspects. Two hostages. Could be worse. Could be five guys.
Marcus pulled his hoodie up, wrapped a bandana around his lower face. Not much of a disguise, but enough to avoid clear identification in the moment.
Peak vigilante fashion. Very 'I forgot to do laundry this week.'
His cop intuition from Bullock analyzed the situation. His combat awareness from the security guard mapped positions. His strategic thinking planned the approach.
Take out the one with the cash bag first. He's distracted. Then the two with guns before they can react.
Marcus moved to the side entrance. His lock-picking intuition from the locksmith let him jimmy the back door in seconds. His enhanced reflexes and movement efficiency kept him quiet as he slipped inside.
Storage room. Door to the main store area slightly open.
Through the gap he could see them. Guy with cash bag near the counter. Two gunmen covering the hostages—clerk behind register, older woman customer on the floor.
"Hurry the fuck up!" One gunman shouted. "Cops'll be here soon!"
"I'm going as fast as I can!" Cash bag guy sounded nervous. Young. Probably first robbery.
First time for everything, buddy. Mine too, actually. We're all learning together.
Marcus's enhanced spatial awareness told him exact distances. Eight feet to cash bag guy. Twelve to first gunman. Fifteen to second.
Move fast. Decisive. Try not to get shot on my first outing. Sarah would never let me hear the end of it.
Marcus burst through the door.
His enhanced speed closed the distance to cash bag guy before anyone could react. A precise strike to the temple—combining his combat training from I-Ching and boxing from Ted Grant. The guy dropped, unconscious, cash scattering everywhere.
One down.
First gunman was turning, gun coming up. Too slow.
Marcus's advanced boxing guided his movement. Slip inside the gun's line of fire, strike to the wrist using his weapon handling basics. The gun clattered away.
Follow-up combination. Jab to solar plexus, cross to jaw. The gunman went down hard.
Two down. This is going better than expected.
Two seconds. Two targets neutralized.
The third gunman had time to react. Gun up, aimed at Marcus from twelve feet away.
And there's the problem.
"Don't fucking move!" The guy's hand was shaking. Scared. Dangerous.
Marcus's cop intuition read him instantly. Nervous. Inexperienced. Likely to pull the trigger out of panic rather than intent.
"You don't want to do this," Marcus said, keeping his voice calm. "Your friends are down. Cops are coming. You can run now or you can make this worse."
"Shut up! Just shut up!" The gun shook harder.
The clerk behind the counter was frozen. The customer on the floor was crying.
Marcus's combat flow state from I-Ching kicked in. Time seemed to slow. His mind calculated options, body ready to react.
He's going to shoot. Next three seconds. His finger's tightening on the trigger.
The gun fired.
Marcus was already moving. His enhanced reflexes and speed let him dive behind a display shelf as the bullet sparked off the floor where he'd been standing.
Okay, note to self: getting shot at is worse than training suggested.
The gunman panicked, fired twice more. Wild shots. One took out a display of chips. Another shattered a refrigerator door.
Marcus came around the shelf low and fast. The gunman tried to track him but Marcus's footwork from boxing combined with his enhanced speed made him impossible to follow.
He closed the distance. Grabbed the gun hand with his weapon handling knowledge, twisted using his body mechanics assessment to find the weak point in the grip, delivered a precise strike to the gunman's jaw.
The third guy dropped.
Marcus stood there breathing hard, adrenaline crashing through his system despite his emotional regulation abilities.
Three armed suspects. All unconscious. Both hostages safe. Mission successful.
I didn't die. Pretty sure that counts as a win.
"Oh my god," the clerk whispered. "You—you saved us. Who are you?"
"No one. Just someone who was nearby." Marcus was already backing toward the door. "Stay down. Police are coming. Don't mention me."
"Wait—"
But Marcus was gone, slipping out the back entrance before anyone could stop him.
He was three blocks away when the police sirens arrived. He ducked into an alley, pulled off the bandana, pushed back his hood, tried to look like a normal college student walking home.
Just a regular Tuesday. Definitely didn't just fight three armed robbers.
His phone buzzed. Bullock.
"Reid. Tell me you didn't do something stupid."
"Define stupid."
"Reid."
"Convenience store robbery. Three suspects, all unconscious. Two hostages safe. I left before police arrived." Marcus leaned against the alley wall. "And I called you first, so that's got to count for something."
"Jesus Christ." Bullock sounded torn between impressed and furious. "You actually pulled it off."
"I told you I was training."
"Training and doing are different things. You could have been shot."
"I was shot at. There's a difference. The bullets missed." Marcus paused. "Barely, but they missed."
"That's not comforting." Bullock sighed. "Alright. You did good. Hostages are safe, suspects are in custody. But Reid—this is the beginning. Once you start, you can't stop. People will expect it. Gotham will expect it."
"No pressure."
"I'm serious. I've seen this before. People with abilities thinking they can save the city. Most of them end up dead or worse." Bullock paused. "But... you were smart about it. Called for backup. Had a plan. Didn't get yourself killed. That's something."
"Setting a very low bar for success there."
"In Gotham, not dying IS success. Keep that bar exactly where it is." Bullock's tone softened slightly. "And Reid? Get better at not getting shot at. Healing factor or not, bullets hurt."
"I'll add it to my training schedule."
"Smart ass."
Bullock hung up.
Marcus logged the incident in Sarah's app.
DATE: May 22
TOTAL ABILITIES: 150
SITUATION: Armed robbery intervention - convenience store, 3 suspects, 2 hostages
ACTION TAKEN: Called Bullock for backup, intervened with tactical approach, neutralized all three suspects (non-lethal), hostages safe, left before police arrived
RESULT: Success. No casualties. Was shot at but avoided hits. Enhanced abilities sufficient for situation.
NOTES: Phase 1 complete. First real intervention with full tactical approach. Worked. But was close. Need better concealment than hoodie + bandana. Need to plan for situations where suspects are more skilled. These were nervous amateurs. Professionals would be different.
INJURIES: None. Close calls but no hits.
PSYCHOLOGICAL: Adrenaline crash significant. Hands shaking after. But no regrets. Felt right. Would do again.
He sent the log to Sarah and Jackson.
Sarah called immediately. "You actually did it."
"Yeah."
"And you're okay? Not hurt?"
"Not hurt. Little shaky from adrenaline but fine."
"I'm coming over. Jackson too. We need to talk about this." She paused. "And we need to make you actual gear. Hoodie and bandana isn't good enough. Someone could have seen your face."
"Probably."
"Definitely. Get home. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
Sarah and Jackson arrived with a bag full of materials.
"Okay," Sarah said, spreading items across Marcus's kitchen table. "We're doing this for real now. You can't keep improvising disguises with whatever you have in your closet."
She pulled out a black tactical mask—the kind that covered the lower face but left eyes exposed. "This is better than a bandana. Breathable, stays in place during movement, harder to pull off in a fight."
Jackson added a dark gray hoodie. "This one's reinforced. Not bulletproof but knife-resistant fabric. Better than your regular one."
"You guys bought tactical gear?"
"We ordered it online three days ago," Sarah admitted. "We knew you'd break eventually. Might as well be prepared."
Marcus tried on the mask. It fit perfectly, covering his lower face from nose to chin.
"We're also making you carry this." Jackson handed over a small medical kit. "Basic trauma supplies. You've got medical knowledge but you need actual equipment if something goes wrong."
"You two are taking this very seriously."
"Someone has to." Sarah sat down. "Because you just crossed a line. You're not training anymore. You're operating. And that means we need to treat this like an actual operation."
"Tactical gear. Medical supplies. What's next, a costume?"
"Eventually, maybe." Sarah pulled up her laptop. "But first, operational security. You need rules. Protocols. Ways to stay safe and anonymous."
They spent the next hour establishing guidelines:
RULE 1: Always call Bullock before intervention when possible. Backup matters.
RULE 2: No intervention without proper concealment. Face must be covered, body language disguised.
RULE 3: Never use real name in the field. Ever.
RULE 4: Avoid security cameras when possible. Disable them if necessary.
RULE 5: Leave before police arrive. No direct contact with authorities.
RULE 6: Document everything. Track patterns, threats, ability usage.
RULE 7: If situation is too dangerous, retreat. Living to help another day > dying heroically.
"These are good rules," Marcus said, reviewing the list.
"They're survival rules," Jackson corrected. "And you need to follow them. Tonight you got lucky. Next time you might not."
"I know."
"Do you?" Sarah looked at him seriously. "Because I saw your log. You were shot at. Multiple times. If your reflexes were even slightly slower, you'd be in a hospital right now. Or worse."
"But they weren't slower. The training worked."
"This time. But Gotham's not going to keep sending you nervous amateurs." She closed her laptop. "Promise me you'll be careful. Actually careful, not 'Marcus Reid thinks he's being careful but is actually being reckless.'"
"I promise. Actually careful this time."
"Good." She handed him the tactical mask and reinforced hoodie. "Keep these. Use them. And Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you. Scared for you, but proud. You saved two people tonight. That matters."
"Thanks."
After they left, Marcus sat alone in his apartment, the tactical gear spread on his table.
He'd done it. First real intervention. First time putting his training and abilities to actual use.
And it had worked.
Three criminals stopped. Two hostages saved. No one hurt except the bad guys.
This is what I came back for. This is what the abilities are for.
Marcus logged one more note in Sarah's app:
ADDITIONAL NOTE: This is sustainable. I can do this. I can actually help people. Just need to be smart about it. Follow the rules. Stay careful. Build more abilities. Keep training.
GOAL: Phase 2 - 200 abilities, advanced tactical knowledge, better gear, more experience. Then Phase 3.
TIMELINE: Two more months to Phase 3 readiness.
NEXT STEPS: Continue training. More strategic copying. Build investigative skills. Learn Gotham's underground. Become actually ready for serious threats.
He closed the app, looked out his window at Gotham's night.
Somewhere out there, more people needed help.
And now Marcus Reid had proven he could provide it.
Soon, Gotham. Soon I'll be ready for more.
The word still held promise.
But now it also held proof.
He could do this.
He just needed to stay alive long enough to get better at it.