The Black Phoenix: Villain or Vigilante?

By Violet Rose

Many have speculated on whether or not New York's latest addition, The Black Phoenix (previously named The Voiceless Stranger), is something to be feared or revered. Though he stops crime at an alarmingly accurate rate, he has also left a trail of criminal records and offences to his name.

Many believe that this shows a miscarriage of justice, claiming that 'no one man should take matters into his own hands', with others claiming that no one has been badly hurt by this 'vigilante', and he has saved many lives and helped scores of people.

But in order to make a proper judgment, one must be fully aware of everything to do with the matter. Compiled below is a factsheet from various sources of what is known so far of the perpetrator, and whether-

A tap at my window made me jump, and effectively stopped my typing. I shut the lid of my laptop quickly and turned to the window, to see a black-clad figure akin to something from a horror movie peeking in. If I wasn't accustomed to his nightly visits, I might have been freaked out.

I stood up and smoothed my nightgown, before making my way to the window and unlatching the lock. As I pressed it open, a waft of chilly air entered the room, causing me to shiver. He held out a gloved hand and helped me over the ledge and onto the balcony. We sat side-by-side on the tiles and looked up at the stars for a minute, before I finally spoke.

"What are you doing here? We left things on kind of an awkward note," I told him, fiddling with the lace hem of my pajamas. I glanced over to Colton's window, to see it dark inside. This was no surprise. He went out of a night. I didn't know where, but he was always gone, and it was almost impossible to plan a date with him, considering his busy nightlife. I respected it, though. He had his vices and I had mine.

The Black Phoenix looked at me sidelong. "What, I can't come and check on you now?"

I smiled. "Of course you can. It's good to see you and actually speak to you. Things have been a little weird lately. It's just kinda surreal sitting here with you and knowing that behind that mask, a piece of me knows who you are."

He looked down. "That doesn't... bother you, does it?" he asked. "Because, I promise, I didn't take it away from you for my own personal gain."

In a moment of unexpected courage, I reached out and laid my hand over his. My alabaster hand stood in stark contrast to his black glove, but I could feel a warm and distinctly human hand beneath. "It's okay, Mystery Man. Maybe it took a while, but I've been thinking about it, and I get it now. Knowing who you are could've changed everything for the both of us. I probably freaked out and knew I couldn't do it. Knowing would've been dangerous. I could've ruined everything."

"So you're not... scared of me?" he asked, and he sounded truly vulnerable to me. I wondered why I had asked him to make me forget. Had it been a matter of being afraid knowing his identity was too dangerous? Surely I'd recognize the voice, right?

I shook my head. "Not anymore. At first I was terrified on why you'd take it away, but I know myself. Occasionally I do make logical decisions. And this protected both of us. That's why I did it, right? To protect you?"

He blew out a breath and leaned back on his elbows, looking out into the velvet skyline. "I don't know. At first you were terrified of me. Afraid of what I was capable of. But I think towards the end you finally understood. And that's when you asked to have it taken away. Because you thought you couldn't keep the secret; that it would be our downfall."

"Do you believe that, too?" I asked. "I mean, knowing... isn't knowing your secret a hard thing to hide from people?"

He looked over at me, and I felt myself blushing from the intense gaze. "Not if you share it with the right person. I don't think you'd blow it."

"And would you have been willing to take that risk?" I asked, tilting my head to the side inquisitively. "You trust me so much you'd risk losing everything by telling me the truth?"

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit," he told me, nudging me with his shoulder. I laid back against the tiles and looked up at the sky, and he followed suit. His costume brushed gently against my arm, making me shiver. "But, yeah, I do trust you. With everything I have. I think we could've managed. It wouldn't be easy. But I believe in us."

I looked over at him. "I don't get it. Why? You hardly know me. I'm just some girl you saved from falling off of her roof one day. How do you know I'm someone worth trusting?"

"Because I..." he began, and trailed off strangely, as if unable to finish that sentence. I frowned. He pushed himself to his elbows and leaned over me, intoxicatingly close. I held my breath and waited. "Because I know you, better than you think. And I think you're the most incredible girl I've ever met in my life. I rust you with all my heart. There isn't a thing I would do for you."

"I..." I whispered, lost in his intensity. It's insane to be getting butterflies from a guy whose face I've never even seen. I didn't really know anything about him. I didn't know a name, a face, or even a story from him. Did he have friends? A girlfriend? Was he a lone wolf?

Our breaths caught within each other's, and his lips opened and closed. He leaned down towards me, and I was completely frozen solid to the roof tiles. Something about him was so charming and incredible, and I knew whatever concerns I'd had when I first found out-whatever I was so terrified about-didn't matter anymore. I trusted him solely and completely. He wasn't evil, and he'd certainly never hurt me. I wasn't scared of him anymore; just curious.

His lips just brushed mine when I realized what was happening, and I quickly turned my head to the side. His soft lips skimmed down my neck, and he pulled back suddenly. I swallowed and shook my head, feeling guilt churn in my stomach. "I'm sorry. I can't. I have a boyfriend."

He nodded and sat up suddenly, and I followed. He made to stand, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Wait, don't go! Please just... stay."

He slowly sat down, and refused to meet my gaze. I tried to fight back an impending blush, and decided to change the subject. I enjoyed his company, even if it could never be more. "Tell me something about you," I whispered, studying him-well, as best as you can when they're covered head to toe in a skintight suit.

He looked back up at me, and I could feel the tension parting like clouds in a stormy sky. "Like what?"

I shrugged. "Something about your life. Something you've never told anyone."

I gathered my skirt and placed it around me, pulling my knees to my chest. I watched him, trying to see if I could find some kind of emotion behind his mask. His jaw clenched and unclenched slowly. "Uh... Okay."

He thought for a second, and I knew there were a thousand memories floating through his head as he sifted for the right one. Right now there were hundreds of faces and names and places going through his head; places I'd never see and people I'd never meet. I wanted so much to be a part of his world, but knew it was practically impossible.

"The first time I discovered I could fly, I was sixteen," he began. "My powers kind of came by one-by-one, about one every year or so. But when I learned I could fly, I was, uh, I was running away from these guys who were chasing me. I kind of got bullied a little, and one day I fought back. When they chased me, I knew I had to flee instead of using my powers. So I was running, and they were catching up to me. I wanted to be anywhere but there. And suddenly my feet were coming off of the ground and I was levitating in the air. I realized what I was doing, and came crashing to the ground. The guys were totally amazed; they asked if I was flying. I panicked and told them I was jumping. As soon as they left I went behind an apartment building, and it was like there were springs in my legs. I started flying off of the ground like a hot air balloon. I didn't stop until I was on top of a cloud. And then I was plummeting back down to earth. I hit the ocean so hard my whole body was covered in red welts for a week."

"Oh, my God," I whispered, my hand clapping to my mouth. I knew from swimming lessons how bad it was just to do a dive wrong and belly flop into the water, let alone hit it from sky high. "I can't imagine you doing anything that wasn't graceful."

He chuckled. "Trust me. I always had a hard time whenever I got a new power."

"Did you have someone to share it with, at least?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I had my parents and a friend. I owe everything to my dad, though. He fixed everything I broke when I was first learning how to master my skills. It almost drove my mom crazy."

It was hard to imagine him with an actual family. There was someone he had sat with at the dinner table every night; people he talked to about his problems who thought it was normal they had a genetically engineered son.

"Are you still close with your parents?" I asked.

He smiled. "I love them to death. They've always been there for me. I've been really lucky that way."

Just then my phone rang, breaking us from our conversation. I had a feeling I could've sat with him on that roof all night if I'd had the chance. I sighed and apologized, before retracting my phone from my pocket.

"Chloe, hey," I greeted. "What's up?"

"So I talked to Keeley about your article," Chloe began, skipping any kind of salutation. Her voice was loud through the phone's speaker, and I knew he'd be able to hear everything she was saying.

"Chloe, now's not a good time..." I began, but she was already on one of her famous tirades.

"Okay, so I was thinking maybe next time you were with him you could ask him a couple of questions-for journalistic curiosity, of course. Maybe you could add it to his article. Like his motivations and stuff. Keeley said a direct quote could be the make-or-break of your career, so you should definitely try to add in something he's said for verification-"

I watched his face drop, and felt like I was high on a rollercoaster that was three seconds from falling down. "Chlo, I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"I'll call you later," I muttered, before ending our conversation and turning to him.

"Look..."

"Article?" he asked. "What's your friend talking about? Direct quotes? Verification? Violet, you're not writing another article about me, are you?"

"I was going to tell you..." I promised him. "I know you think it's dangerous, but I'm ready for the risk. People need to know about you! People need to start seeing you for the hero that you are. I thought maybe if I started a column in my high school's newspaper, we could raise awareness."

"I don't want you to raise awareness!" he told me, standing up. I scrambled to my feet. "I want you to be safe. We've gone through this, Violet!"

"I know we have! But I want to do this. Please."

He shook his head. "I can't believe this! Is that the only reason you talk to me? So that you can get your next quote? Your next article topic? I'm not a publicity stunt, Violet. I'm a person, too."

"You think that's what this is?" I cried. "Just a ploy for attention? A good career move for me? This is about so much more than that! This is about the world having hope. The world being able to have faith in someone. When the world is falling to crap, people need someone to look up to!"

"Maybe I don't want to be that person!" he argued. "You spend so much time thinking about what the world wants, that you forget about what I want. I don't want people to know who I am. I don't want people tuning in weekly for their next vigilante fix. I do what I do to help people, and that's enough for me. Why can't that be enough for you?"

"Because it's not enough!" I cried. "You hide behind a mask and your anonymity, and for what? People still fear you. I'm just trying to boost your image, so that you can become someone they trust, not someone they fear. Don't you get it? I'm doing this to help you."

"I don't want your help," he told me. "What I want is to keep this city safe. And that includes you. Once you publish those articles, you become a target. The people that are hunting me, will hunt you to get to me. And the worst part is that it'll work. And maybe that isn't good enough for you, but it's going to have to be. Because that's all there is."

"That's crap and you know it," I told him frankly. "It's because you're scared. You're scared of what the world will think once they know about you. Maybe it isn't safe. But neither is the world. Having you in my life has made things so much better. I just want other people to have that, too. Don't you want that? You could inspire people. You just have to want it."

"Does it matter what I want?" he replied. "It doesn't seem to make any difference to you either way."

"That's not fair," I whispered. "I just..."

"You what?" he asked. "Tell me, Violet."

I sighed. "I don't know."

"Maybe that's the point," he whispered. "You don't know."

He leapt off the roof without giving me a chance to get a word in edgewise, and I sighed and watched his black figure retreat intot he night as if he'd never been there in the first place. I slid into my room and shut the window with more force than necessary, before dropping myself begrudgingly into my desk chair and staring at the article.

The Black Phoenix: Villain or Vigilante?

"Asshole," I whispered, before selecting the contents of the document. My finger hovered over the Delete button, and I wondered if I had the strength to press it. I swallowed and shook my head, before shutting my laptop down and closing the lid in frustration. Just because it wasn't getting published, didn't mean I had to delete it just because he asked me to.

He didn't want a column? Fine.

But that meant he couldn't have me either.

~ * ~

I was awoken horrifically early Sunday morning to the sound of a sharp rapping on my front door, and wondered why neither parent had gone to get it yet. For me, Sunday mornings were precious, like mined gold. On weekdays I was up early for school, and on Saturdays I got up early for a nutritious breakfast and yoga, before a productive day. Sundays, though, were reserved for sleeping, eating, and watching movies. They deserved a sleep-in until at least the eleventh hour of the morning, and not to be woken up at eight by unwanted visitors.

I sighed and slid out of bed, regretting staying up so late the night before. I trumped to the stairs and looked through the peephole. The sight before me made me almost want to go back to bed and pretend I wasn't home. But I knew I couldn't do that.

I opened the door to find Keeley standing there, way too bright-eyed for such an early time. She was holding an espresso, and smiled brightly at me. "Hey, Vi. Boy, you look tired. Hope I didn't wake you up!"

"Not at all," I replied grimly, fidgeting with my pajamas self-consciously. "What are you doing here, Keeley?"

"I came to see how my star reporter was doing with her first article!" she told me. "I can see big things in our future! How's it coming along? Ready for printing tomorrow?"

"About that..." I told her, as she stepped into the foyer and surveyed her surroundings with an inquisitive gaze. Truth be told, I'd been trying to avoid thinking about any masked vigilante or my article for the last two days, instead choosing to busy myself in homework and licking my wounds. "I've been thinking about our agreement."

"What about it?" Keeley asked, turning on me with wide eyes.

"I don't think the column is such a good idea," I admitted. "It has been quite...forcefully brought to my attention that certain media profiles might not want their identities splashed on the front page. Or anything about them, for that matter."

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a plucked eyebrow. "Violet Rose, you'd better not be backing out on me now."

"I'm sorry, Keeley, but I have to respect his wishes," I admitted through gritted teeth. "He thinks it'd be safer if the world didn't know about him."

"Do you agree?"

I sighed. "It doesn't matter what I think. He knows best. If we publicize him too much, it might end up pushing him away. Maybe we should wait for a more appropriate time."

"Look, Violet, your innocent nature has always been adorable to me, but it's about time we crushed that naïveté. No celebrity wants to be published by the newspapers. But does that stop hard-hitting journalists from unearthing those facts? No! It makes them stronger. This could be a big career move for us. But I need you with me. And if you won't do it, I'll have to find someone else who will."

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" I sputtered in disbelief. I knew that Keeley was passionate about her paper and her career in journalism, but to do something so underhanded amazed me.

She smiled. "Your writing is incredible, Vi. And you have real potential. Don't waste it on something as trivial as morality. The world needs a voice to listen to. So speak up."

She disappeared through my door, leaving me standing there dazed and confused in my foyer. This was the second time in two days I had been left without the last word, and it was enough to make me angry.

I sighed and blew out a breath, wondering what I was going to do. If I didn't do it, I knew someone else was going to. At least this way, I could control what was published.

Here we go again.