The night passed, and Rowan was back in his reality, facing the world alone. He couldn't afford any distractions, so he even made sure to wake up to clean sheets. His mind, on the other hand, was anything but clear. 

Matteo had been creeping into his thoughts at the most inopportune times lately, forcing him to take risks. He had no idea how bad the consequences would be from his heroic act, especially when everyone thought he was the worst villain in the city, so he could only hope he hadn't ruined his plan by doing so. No, hope wasn't the right word. Rowan never hoped, never longed, always just planned. He knew he had a higher purpose in life, and he couldn't let anything get in his way. 

He may have been just a kid when he made that promise, but he took it all the more seriously. After 16 years, he'd never been as close to the finish line as he was now. Revenge was within his grasp, all he had to do was not make any more mistakes. 

The very fact that he came into the public eye was risky. He had always known that he could work from the background and that the disguise was an unnecessary addition, but he couldn't help himself. After years of being unseen by anyone, he craved at least a fraction of the attention. Plus, it was fun to defeat all those would-be heroes without even having to use his abilities. 

Rowan chuckled and held his hand out in front of him, entertaining himself with the sight of a soft glow that appeared around his hand. 

His amusement, however, did not last long. As quickly as the smile appeared on his face, it disappeared. He couldn't afford distractions.

He stood up from the bed and walked over to the coffee table where he had his equipment laid out, along with his laptop. His folders, and in fact the entire computer, were encrypted to the point that he had to enter several codes before he could get to what he needed. 

As he had several times before, he replayed the video again, causing his heart to race despite the icy impenetrable mask on his face. 

The black and white footage clearly showed a pair that Rowan knew very well. The problem, however, was that they only appeared on the footage for a few seconds, during which they appeared completely innocent.

His hand unconsciously curled into a fist, and the ice from his face moved into his eyes. Some would call it an obsession, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He didn't need any recognition for it, all he needed was revenge.

He played the same footage again, but no change. The couple walked in, the woman stared into the camera, they exchanged a few words with the man in the suit, and then they left. No violence, no tricks. 

Rowan knew he had one last option left as he zoomed in to get a shot of the man in the suit. The system he'd constructed worked perfectly, so in a few minutes, he knew his name and address. Piece of cake. 

Cecil Walsh, 58, widower. 

It looked like Rowan was going on a visit today.

…

A normal person would have knocked, but Rowan hadn't been normal for a long time. 

His hand pressed against the man's neck, holding him tightly by the collar as the bald man visibly trembled, not hiding his fear of the unexpected visitor. Revenger crept up to him through the balcony and stood in the shadows, unseen thanks to the light and noise of the television. When he sneaked up behind the man and grabbed him by the throat, Cecil knew it was too late to react. All he could do was pray that he made it out of this situation alive.

"We need to talk," he said to the man in a deep voice, modulated by a device installed in his mask. 

"I'll tell you anything you want," the man assured him immediately, his voice trembling, and if he could have, he would have started nodding like an obedient dog.

"Do the names Theresa Farrell and Nixon Pérez ring a bell?" Revenger decided to use their civilian names, as they also appeared on the bank footage as ordinary citizens and not their superhero alter egos. 

"Who?" Cecil asked, quickly realising his answer was wrong as the grip on his neck tightened. 

His hands covered those of the villain, but he had no chance of getting them off him even if he tried hard. He was a mere clerk, while Revenger was a trained assassin. 

"Please don't hurt me." His voice trembled, and Revenger snorted. He wasn't planning on hurting him if he cooperated, but he wasn't going to tell him that. He believed he'd be better motivated if he feared for his life. 

"Should I ask again?" His tone was almost mocking as he asked it. When he was a kid, he didn't understand how anyone could enjoy torture, but now he relished the feeling of having the upper hand over someone and deciding their fate.

"Please, just give me more information. I'll remember." Cecil's voice was growing shakier, and the fact that Revenger's grip on his neck wasn't easing wasn't helping with his nervousness either. 

"They came to your bank on August seventh, 2006. Here." One hand disappeared from the man's throat as the villain reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He'd prepared photos of the two heroes in civilian attire ahead of time, which he'd gotten from the Legion's database. For being an organisation of superheroes, it was easy enough to hack into their system. At least for Rowan. 

The man's pale eyes flicked over the photo, and it was obvious how hard he was concentrating to remember. A visible bead of sweat trickled from his forehead, and his lips quivered. 

"I'm not sure," he cautiously admitted almost inaudibly "I can look up their names in the system, if that helps?" he suggested even more cautiously. 

"Don't you think I've tried?" Revenger growled. He was running out of patience. He knew that asking someone to remember a few seconds of a visit that had taken place seventeen years ago was almost impossible, but he had no choice.

"I'm sorry," the man whimpered, and Revenger sighed. Their gazes met, and the man immediately closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but the exact opposite happened. The other hand disappeared from his throat as well, and he was finally able to catch his breath. 

"I want you to do something for me," the villain spoke again, and the bald man immediately nodded. 

"I want you to get hold of whatever information you can about those two. Don't look them up in the system, ask people. The ones who worked there at the time. I'll warn you up front, though, that not everyone can be trusted, so you need to be careful. Ask only those you trust 100%. Do you understand?" he instructed, and the man kept nodding the whole time.

"Of course," he immediately confirmed verbally. 

"Oh, and one more thing. They're murderers, so if I were you, I'd make sure no one hears about your little investigation," Rowan added as if it were nothing.

Cecil swallowed loudly, visibly disturbed by this information, but didn't dare protest out loud. "Thank you for the warning," he said instead. 

Revenger nodded in response and paused for a moment, watching the man in front of him. He was still nervous and trembling with fear, and for a brief moment, Rowan was reminded of when he had been in the same position. Helpless and shaking with terror. 

"How am I gonna get in touch with you later?" Cecil took advantage of the silence to ask cautiously. 

Revenger had finally recovered, but thankfully his mask didn't allow his nervousness to show on the outside so nothing changed from the man's perspective. "I'll find you." His answer was simple, and he chose not to give any sort of timeline. He knew better. Only once had he given someone an exact deadline and instead found a hero in a white and gold uniform in the same place on the same day.

He quickly prevented a smile from appearing on his face at the thought of Matteo. 

"May I ask..." Cecil began cautiously, once again snapping Revenger out of his thoughts. Their gazes met, and grey eyes immediately lowered to the floor. 

"What? I haven't got all day to talk to you," he encouraged him gruffly. 

"If they're murderers, why don't you call the police on them?" If Rowan hadn't been standing so close to the man, his words would have been overheard. Still, he admired the man's courage for daring to question him. 

"They're too smart to get caught by the police," he replied simply. For a moment he debated whether to warn the man that one of them had the ability to shapeshift, but then he changed his mind. He'd be unnecessarily paranoid and wouldn't find out anything for him.

"Any other questions?" he asked when the man didn't respond to his answer. 

"No, sir." If Rowan had been in a better mood, he would have laughed at the title. Not only did it sound like addressing someone important, but it also didn't fit his young age. If he was an ordinary person, he might even be at the University and not wandering around at night, questioning people. 

"Good," Revenger assessed. It was time to go home. "Enjoy your show." He nodded his head toward the television, and the moment the man turned his head in confusion, he took advantage of the situation to move toward the balcony door. He'd had practice at this and so he deftly hit the ground without having to worry. The second floor was a piece of cake for him.