Marcus woke up to seventeen missed texts from Sarah.
The first one, sent at 7:23 AM: "Saw your log. We need to talk. NOW."
It went downhill from there.
By the time Marcus called her back at 9 AM, he already knew this conversation would be rough.
"My apartment. One hour. Don't be late." Sarah's voice was tight. Controlled. The kind of calm that meant she was actually furious.
"Sarah—"
"One hour, Marcus."
She hung up.
Yeah. This is going to be bad.
Marcus arrived at Sarah's apartment to find her and Jackson already there. Sarah had her tablet out, his log entry displayed prominently. Jackson looked uncomfortable, which was never a good sign.
"Hey—"
"Sit down," Sarah said, pointing to the couch.
Marcus sat.
Sarah turned the tablet to face him. "Read your log entry from yesterday out loud."
"Sarah, I know you're upset—"
"Read. It. Out. Loud."
Marcus sighed and read: "'Firefly encounter. Arsonist for hire with enhanced equipment and years of experience. We held our own but didn't win alone. Needed mystery sniper's intervention to force his retreat.'"
"Keep going."
"'Would have stalemated or lost without sniper support.'"
"And what phase are you in, Marcus?"
"Phase 3 completion. 280 abilities."
"Which means what, according to our plan?" Sarah's voice was sharp.
"Advanced tactical knowledge, investigation skills, coordinated operations with support—"
"NOT fighting enhanced criminals alone!" Sarah's control finally cracked. "We had a PLAN, Marcus! A careful, strategic plan for your development! Phase 1: street-level threats with backup. Phase 2: coordinated operations with police support. Phase 3: MAYBE enhanced threats if absolutely necessary and with proper equipment!"
"I had Spoiler with me—"
"Who ALSO isn't equipped for enhanced threats! You both could have died!" Sarah pulled up the original plan on her tablet. "Look at this. LOOK AT IT. We spent hours creating this. Benchmarks. Safety protocols. Gradual escalation. And you threw it out the window to fight a guy with military-grade flamethrowers!"
"There were buildings on fire. People inside—"
"And you could have called it in to GCPD, evacuated civilians, and let someone actually equipped for enhanced threats handle Firefly!" Sarah was standing now, pacing. "That's what Phase 3 means! Coordination! Support! Not 'I have 280 abilities so I'm invincible!'"
"I'm not saying I'm invincible—"
"You fought someone with FLAMETHROWERS, Marcus! Direct hit! You survived because you randomly copied fire resistance at exactly the right moment! LUCK! You survived on LUCK!" Sarah's voice rose. "What happens when you face an enhanced threat and don't get lucky? When the ability you need isn't there? You DIE! That's what happens!"
Marcus didn't have a good answer to that.
Jackson finally spoke, voice quiet. "She's right, man. The fire resistance was pure chance. Copied exactly what you needed exactly when you needed it. That's not a sustainable strategy."
"I know—"
"Do you?" Sarah stopped pacing, turned to face him. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've been getting progressively more reckless. Started with walking away from situations. Then small interventions with Bullock's backup. Then coordinated police operations. Now you're fighting enhanced criminals. What's next? Taking on supervillains? Going after the Joker?"
"That's not fair—"
"It's completely fair! We set phases for a REASON!" Sarah pulled up more data. "280 abilities is impressive. But abilities without proper equipment, tactical support, and experience against enhanced threats? That's just a recipe for getting yourself killed in a slightly more complicated way!"
"Sarah, I get it. I messed up—"
"You broke our agreement! We had a plan! You agreed to it! And then you just... ignored it!" Sarah's voice cracked slightly. "Do you know how scared I was reading that log? 'Would have lost without sniper support.' You almost DIED, Marcus! AGAIN! And I can't—I can't keep logging your operations wondering if this is the one where you don't come back!"
The apartment felt too small. Too tense.
Marcus felt his chest tighten. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't good enough! Sorry doesn't un-fight Firefly! Sorry doesn't change the fact that you're getting reckless!" Sarah wiped her eyes. "I care about you, you idiot. We both do. We've spent months helping you train, plan, develop safely. And you're throwing it away because you can't stand walking past crimes anymore!"
"That's not—"
"That's EXACTLY it!" Sarah's anger was back. "You've got hero complex! Same thing you said your dad had! And it got him killed! Are you trying to follow in his footsteps?"
That hit hard. Uncle Mike had said the same thing.
Jackson intervened. "Okay. Everyone's upset. Let's take a breath."
"I don't want to take a breath! I want Marcus to explain why he thinks 280 abilities and luck makes him ready for enhanced threats when we SPECIFICALLY PLANNED AGAINST THIS!"
Marcus took a moment before responding. "You're right. I broke our plan. I saw Firefly and I didn't think strategically—I just saw buildings on fire and reacted. That was wrong."
"It was reckless."
"It was reckless," Marcus agreed. "And dangerous. And if not for the fire resistance copy and the mystery sniper's support, Spoiler and I would have lost. Possibly died. You're completely right."
Sarah stared at him, some of her anger deflating. "Then why did you do it?"
"Because in the moment, I couldn't walk away. I saw people in danger and I just... moved." Marcus ran his hand through his hair. "I know that's not good enough. I know we had a plan. But Sarah, you're asking me to be strategic and careful while Gotham is burning around me. That's really hard."
"Hard is better than DEAD!"
"I know!"
They sat in tense silence.
Jackson finally spoke. "Okay. Here's what we're not doing. We're not spiraling into worst-case scenarios. We're not catastrophizing. Marcus messed up. He knows it. Sarah's rightfully pissed. Everyone's acknowledged reality. Now we figure out how to move forward."
"Move forward how?" Sarah's voice was still sharp. "He's going to keep encountering situations. Keep making impulse decisions. How do we plan for that?"
"We adjust the plan," Jackson said calmly. "Marcus, what would have made the Firefly situation better? Actually better, not just 'I got lucky.'"
Marcus thought about it. "Better equipment. Proper gear for enhanced threats. Tactical support that I could coordinate with instead of hoping the mystery sniper shows up. Training specifically for enhanced opposition instead of just street-level fights."
"All things we don't have," Sarah pointed out.
"All things we could GET," Jackson countered. "Sarah, you've been tracking the mystery sniper. She's been protecting them consistently. Professional equipment. Tactical intervention. That suggests she's connected to someone with serious resources."
"So what, we just wait for her to make contact?"
"We signal we're open to it. Marcus and Spoiler have been professional, effective, coordinated. If someone's evaluating them for recruitment or support, they've shown they can handle structure." Jackson looked at Marcus. "The question is whether you'd accept outside help. Training from people who actually know how to handle enhanced threats."
"Yes. Obviously yes. I'm not too proud to admit I need help."
"Then we make that clear. Operationally." Jackson pulled up his own notes. "Continue current work but signal openness to coordination. If the sniper or whoever she represents wants to make contact, we're receptive."
Sarah was quiet for a long moment. "I'm still mad at you."
"I know."
"You broke our carefully constructed plan and almost died."
"I know."
"And if you do something that stupid again, I'm going to be even more angry."
"Understood."
Sarah finally allowed a small smile. "But you're right that we can't plan for every situation. Gotham doesn't cooperate with strategic development timelines. So we adjust. Better equipment somehow. Outside support if available. And you PROMISE to think before engaging enhanced threats."
"I promise."
"Good." Sarah closed her tablet. "Now I need to do something that isn't yelling at you about operational planning. Because I've been stressed about this since 7 AM and I need a break."
"What do you want to do?"
"Something normal. Something that doesn't involve vigilante work or training or planning." Sarah looked at Jackson. "Arcade?"
Jackson lit up. "I'm always down for arcade."
The arcade was in a better part of town—retro games, modern racing setups, air hockey tables, that perfect mix of nostalgia and current entertainment.
Sarah dominated the racing games. Marcus and Jackson were terrible at them, which seemed to improve Sarah's mood considerably.
"How are you this good?" Marcus asked after Sarah beat him by thirty seconds.
"Practice. Coordination. Also you drive like my grandmother." Sarah grinned, the first genuine smile since that morning. "Another round?"
"I'm going to lose again."
"Obviously. But it's funny watching you try."
They played for two hours. Racing games, shooting games, co-op zombie survival where they all died spectacularly. Jackson won every single air hockey match through some combination of geometry knowledge and luck.
"I think air hockey might be 70% physics," Jackson said after his fifth win.
"Or you're just weirdly good at it," Marcus countered.
"Can't it be both?"
Sarah bought them all overpriced arcade pizza and they sat at a sticky table eating terrible food and laughing about Jackson's air hockey dominance.
"This is nice," Sarah said. "Normal. No planning. No training discussions. Just... being college students doing college student things."
"We should do this more often," Marcus agreed.
"We should do this before you give me another heart attack with reckless vigilante decisions." But Sarah was smiling. "Seriously though. Today was good. I needed this."
"Me too." Marcus meant it. The conversation that morning had been rough, but Sarah had been right. He'd been reckless. Broken their plan. Let his impulses override strategic thinking.
Can't keep doing that. Need to be smarter.
They left the arcade around 5 PM, the autumn sun starting to set over Gotham.
"Same time next week?" Jackson suggested. "Regular arcade hangouts? Keeps us sane."
"Yes," Sarah said immediately. "I need regular non-vigilante time or I'm going to lose my mind."
"Deal. Next Sunday, arcade day." Marcus pulled out his phone to set a reminder.
They walked back toward campus together, talking about classes, Jackson's upcoming med school applications, Sarah's engineering project. Normal stuff. Regular college student concerns.
For a few hours, Marcus wasn't Revenant. He was just Marcus Reid, college student, hanging out with his friends.
This is good. Need to remember this. The balance.
They split up near campus—Sarah heading back to her apartment, Jackson to the library, Marcus toward his place.
Sarah hesitated. "Hey Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"About what I said this morning. The thing about your dad." She looked uncomfortable. "That was out of line. I was angry but I shouldn't have—"
Marcus waved it off with a half-smile. "You weren't wrong. Uncle Mike said basically the same thing. Hero complex runs in the family apparently."
"Still. I shouldn't have thrown it in your face like that."
"You were mad. People say things when they're mad. It's fine." Marcus's tone was light, genuine. "Seriously, Sarah. We're good. You were right about everything else anyway."
"But—"
"We're good," Marcus repeated, bumping her shoulder gently. "Stop worrying about it. I'm not."
Sarah studied him for a moment, then relaxed. "Okay. If you're sure."
"I'm sure. Now go rest. You've had a stressful day yelling at me about operational planning."
"It was exhausting," Sarah agreed, smiling. "See you later. And Marcus? I'm still glad you're okay. Even if I spent all morning being furious about it."
"I know. Thanks for caring enough to be furious."
"Anytime."
She headed toward her apartment. Marcus watched her go, then turned toward his own place.
The evening was cool, Gotham's usual gray settling over the city. He felt lighter than he had that morning. Sarah's anger had been justified but they'd worked through it. The arcade had been exactly what they all needed.
One day at a time. Balance the vigilante work with regular life. That's sustainable.
That's what Uncle Mike meant. What Sarah keeps saying. Can't lose myself in the work.
He logged the day before bed:
DATE: September 8
TOTAL ABILITIES: 280
TODAY'S EVENTS:
Sarah was rightfully furious about the Firefly fight. I broke our careful plan, engaged an enhanced threat I wasn't ready for, survived mostly on luck. She was completely right to be angry. We had phases, benchmarks, safety protocols—all designed to keep me from getting killed doing exactly what I did yesterday.
SARAH'S POINT: 280 abilities doesn't mean I'm ready for everything. Abilities without proper equipment, tactical support, and training against enhanced threats is just elaborate way to get killed. Fire resistance was LUCK. Can't rely on lucky copies.
RESOLUTION: Acknowledged I messed up. Promised to think before engaging enhanced threats. Open to outside help/training from whoever's been protecting us (mystery sniper and whoever she represents). Adjust plan going forward but STICK TO IT.
ARCADE AFTERNOON: Needed that. All of us did. Normal time. No vigilante planning. Just friends being friends. Sarah demolished us at racing games. Jackson is mysteriously good at air hockey. Terrible pizza was perfect. This is the balance I need to maintain.
REMINDER TO SELF: Uncle Mike, Sarah, Jackson—they all care about me. They want me to be safe while helping people. That means being smart, strategic, not reckless. Hero complex got Dad killed. Can't repeat that pattern.
NEXT STEPS: Continue operations but smarter. Wait for contact from mystery sniper/her network if it comes. Maintain regular friend time. Don't lose Marcus Reid while being Revenant.
PERSONAL: Today was good. Started rough but ended well. Need more days like this.
Marcus closed the app and stared at his ceiling.
Tomorrow would bring more training, more operations, more of Gotham's endless chaos.
But today had been about friendship and normalcy.
That mattered just as much.
Maybe more.
He fell asleep easier than he had in weeks, the sound of Gotham's sirens a distant background instead of a constant call to action.
Balance. That's the key.
Remember today. The arcade. Friends. Laughter.
That's what I'm protecting. That's why the vigilante work matters.
Keep that straight and everything else follows.
Outside, Gotham's night continued.
But inside, Marcus Reid slept peacefully.
For now.