I started patrolling nightly. With a job, marriage and two kids it’s harder than it sounds. I was sleeping two or three hours a night, constantly late for work, dozing off in meetings. At home I’d nap through dinner and slink out late at night. Bruce Wayne makes it look easy.
As for my costume; jeans, t-shirt, black hiking boots (for those rough landings), leather jacket (for when I got in a scrape). When you work in IT it’s hard to explain to your wife why your clothes are always torn up. I still should have just told her the truth. The worst part was the sex. When you are sneaking around all the time, pissing your wife off, you never get any.
I was safer now too. I promised myself there would be no more Marie Swansons. Things went well for a long time, surprisingly only about 10% of my ‘missions’ ended up in the news. You have no idea how much crime there is that you never hear about. Cops took credit for a lot of my work too, I didn’t mind though; I wasn’t in it for press coverage.
Everything was fine until I saved her. It was 2am and I was flying over a small subdivision when I heard her scream. I knew it was probably a domestic. I stopped a lot of domestics. I flew down to take a peek, it’s best to look before acting on these kinds of things. Broke in on three strange sexual encounters before I learned that lesson. It was a nice house in an average neighborhood, pretty common for marital disputes.
There she was, long red hair, pretty face, well, normally pretty. She had a good sized welt on her face that night. He was drunk, standing over her yelling. She was sobbing, clutching the phone to her chest. Probably threatening to call someone, they always threaten, they never call. He reeled back to smack her and that’s when I moved.
Broke through the window, snapped his arm and smashed the coffee table with his face. I reached down to help her up. As she touched my hand and looked up at me with those big green eyes, I knew I was fucked.