Wednesday started normal.
Marcus woke at 7 AM, went for a run around campus—his enhanced endurance made the usual three-mile route feel easy now. Grabbed breakfast at the dining hall, ran into a few classmates from his engineering courses.
"You coming to study group tonight?" asked Mike, a guy from his structures class.
"Maybe. Depends on how the day goes."
"We're tackling that bridge stress analysis problem. Could use your brain."
"I'll text you if I can make it."
Morning classes went smoothly. Structural engineering lecture at 9 AM—Marcus copied basic load calculation methods from the professor, nothing major but useful knowledge. Materials science at 11 AM where he picked up that metallurgy knowledge during a guest lecture.
Lunch with Jackson at 12:30.
"You look tired," Jackson observed, eating his sandwich.
"Late patrol last night. Nothing major, just long."
"You're keeping up with the rest days though, right? Sarah's plan?"
"Yeah. Two nights off per week. Sunday and one other depending on how things go." Marcus took a bite of his own lunch. "I'm managing."
"Good. Because Sarah will kill you if you're not managing."
"Don't I know it."
They talked about Jackson's med school applications—MCAT scores, personal statements, recommendation letters. Normal college student concerns. For an hour, Marcus was just Marcus Reid, engineering student, not Revenant.
Afternoon brought training at I-Ching's dojo. Two hours of forms, meditation, staff work. I-Ching was in a philosophical mood.
"Your focus is better," he observed after their session. "Less distracted. More present."
"Just getting into a rhythm."
"Good. Rhythm is important. But don't let rhythm become complacency." I-Ching placed a hand on Marcus's shoulder. "Gotham rewards attention. Punishes assumption."
"I'll remember that."
By evening, Marcus was back near campus. Sarah had texted about staying late at the engineering lab, working on her senior project—some kind of improved structural support system for earthquake-prone buildings. Jackson was at the library grinding through organic chemistry.
Marcus grabbed dinner at a campus food truck—mediocre tacos that were exactly what he needed after training. He was planning to meet up with Sarah when she finished at the lab, make sure she got home safe. The city had been tense lately. Too many incidents. Too much chaos.
Just being cautious. That's not paranoia, that's smart.
He was checking his phone for Sarah's update when the first explosion hit.
The blast was distant but loud enough to rattle windows across campus. Students stopped, looked around confused. Then another explosion. And another.
Marcus's phone lit up with alerts:
Explosion at Gotham Chemical Plant
Fire at Robinson Park pavilion
Structural collapse in the Diamond District
Active shooter situation in Burnley
Multiple car accidents across the city
Gas leak in the Narrows
All happening simultaneously.
This isn't random.
His phone rang. Spoiler.
"You seeing this?" she asked immediately.
"Yeah. Too coordinated."
"Way too coordinated. I'm heading to Robinson Park—civilians trapped in the pavilion fire. You take something near your position. Help where you can."
"Got it. Be careful."
"You too."
Marcus immediately texted his people.
To Jackson: Stay in library. Multiple emergencies. Don't leave unless necessary.
Jackson: What's happening?
Marcus: Don't know yet. Stay inside.
To Uncle Mike: You home?
Uncle Mike: Yes. Watching the news. Be careful out there.
Marcus: Will do. Stay inside. Lock doors.
To Sarah: Where are you?
Sarah: Still at lab. What's going on?
Marcus: City's under some kind of attack. Stay there. I'm coming to get you.
Sarah: Lab's being evacuated. Campus security is clearing buildings.
Marcus: Then wait outside the lab. I'll be there in five minutes.
He ducked into an alley, quickly changed into a different jacket—not his Revenant gear, just regular clothes. If he was escorting Sarah, he needed to do it as Marcus, not as a vigilante. But he could still help along the way.
The nearest emergency was four blocks toward campus—apartment fire, smoke pouring from upper floors. Fire trucks just arriving.
Marcus couldn't ignore it.
He ran toward the building. People streaming out, some coughing, some injured. He grabbed a woman struggling with a heavy bag, helped her down the steps. Found an elderly man sitting on the curb, disoriented from smoke inhalation. Got him to the paramedics.
"Anyone still inside?" Marcus asked a firefighter.
"Third and fourth floors. We're getting gear—"
"I'll check."
"Sir, you can't—"
But Marcus was already moving. His enhanced speed and durability meant he could handle smoke and heat better than normal people. Not as well as with full gear, but enough.
Third floor—smoke everywhere. He covered his face with his jacket, pushed through. Found a teenager unconscious near the stairs. Grabbed him, carried him down. Handed him to emergency crews.
Back up. Fourth floor—family trapped in their apartment, door jammed by debris. Marcus used his enhanced strength to force it open. Father, mother, two kids. Got them all out.
By the time the fire department had their equipment ready, Marcus had evacuated eight people.
One firefighter stared at him. "Who are you?"
"Just a student. Glad I could help."
He left before more questions came.
Two more blocks toward campus. Gas leak—main line ruptured, buildings evacuating. Marcus helped where he could. Carried an elderly woman with a walker. Directed people away from the danger zone. Moved a fallen street sign blocking an exit path.
Emergency crews were everywhere but overwhelmed. Marcus filled gaps, helped where regular citizens could plausibly help, didn't do anything that would reveal his enhancements obviously.
His phone buzzed. Sarah.
Outside the engineering building. Where are you?
Marcus: Two blocks away. Stay there.
He moved faster, weaving through the chaos of emergency vehicles and confused civilians.
Found Sarah standing outside the engineering building with a small crowd of other students. Campus security was directing everyone away from the buildings. Sarah spotted him immediately.
"Marcus! What's happening?"
"Don't know. Whole city is going crazy. Come on, I'll walk you home."
"I'm fine walking alone—"
"Sarah. Please. Just let me make sure you get there safe."
She looked at his face—probably saw the tension, the worry—and nodded. "Okay."
They moved through side streets, avoiding main roads clogged with emergency vehicles. Other students were heading home too, everyone confused and scared.
"This is really bad, isn't it?" Sarah asked quietly.
"Yeah. Too coordinated to be random. All these incidents starting at the exact same time? That's planned."
"Planned for what?"
"That's the question."
They walked for two blocks in relative quiet, just the distant sound of sirens and the general chaos of a city under coordinated attack.
Sarah's apartment was three blocks away when Marcus felt it.
That familiar sensation. Being watched.
He'd gotten good at recognizing it over months of operations. The awareness of eyes on him. Attention focused with intent.
But this was different. This felt... predatory.
"Sarah, walk a bit faster."
"What—"
"Just trust me."
They picked up the pace. Marcus's enhanced hearing caught something—footsteps. Multiple people. Moving parallel to their path. Staying hidden but matching their speed.
Two blocks now. The footsteps stayed consistent. Coordinating through some kind of silent communication.
We're being followed.
One block. Sarah's apartment in sight.
Marcus's instincts screamed danger. He scanned the street, the alleys, the rooftops. Nothing obvious but the feeling intensified.
They're herding us. Waiting for the right moment.
"Sarah, when I say run, you run for your building. Don't look back. Don't stop."
"Marcus, what's going on—"
The figures stepped out from the shadows.
Six of them. Black tactical gear. Military-grade equipment. Moving with coordinated precision that spoke of serious training.
And leading them—a massive man. Bald, scarred, built like he could break people in half. Moving with the calm confidence of someone who'd killed many times before.
His eyes locked on Marcus. Recognition flashed across his face.
Then he smiled.
And spoke a single word that made Marcus's blood run cold.
"Revenant."