Author's Note

This story was originally written for the @NARomance contest: "Twist The Clichés"! And I'm excited to announce that it was a WINNER!!

~ Let's destroy the common tropes of Vigilantism insta-friendships, teenage sidekicks, the sensibility of capes, and assumed victories, all while giving a new meaning and origin to the cliché: Paint the Town Red. ~

I hope you enjoy!

~ Mar

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Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

~ Oscar Wilde

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The deep purple lycra of her unitard produced swishing whispers as she ran. With a bang, Lady Silk burst through the doors of her vigilante headquarters.

"Terrible news!" she announced to her two (and a half) comrades, waving that morning's newspaper above her head like a white flag.

NightHawk turned away from the wall of surveillance monitors, one cocked eyebrow visible above his angular mask. "You can't solve the crossword puzzle again?"

From where he was seated next to Peter, his sidekick-in-training, Knives laughed. "Remember when she got stuck on that clue about Batman?" he reminisced.

NightHawk chuckled. "Classic."

"If this had to do with the crossword puzzle, would I have made such a dramatic entrance while shouting 'terrible news'?" Lady Silk scoffed. "No. This is serious, you jerks."

Knives' sidekick, amidst his practical lesson on reassembling broken com sets, pointed his micro-screwdriver at her. "You are kind of a drama queen," he said conversationally.

Hand on her toned purple hip, Lady Silk glared at the fledgling hero. "I don't recall asking you, Peter."

"Whoa, whoa!" Peter cried, dropping his tools on the work table and holding out his gloved palm. "We're in headquarters, in costume! Vigilante alter-ego names only! Your rules!"

Lady Silk rolled her eyes. "I'm not calling you 'Spider-Guy'."

Peter looked affronted. "Why not?"

"Um, other than the fact that it sucks?" she asked. "How about that it's a direct rip-off of Spider-Man? Back me up, Knives."

"They are really similar," Knives concurred.

"And Spider-Man sounds better," NightHawk added.

"Uh, okay," Peter said, glaring at each of them in turn. "First of all, thanks to Marvel and DC, everything is a copy. Second, as far as I know, 'spiders' are public domain. I can use the word 'spider' if I want to! It has nothing to do with Spider-Man!"

"Your costume is literally identical to his," Lady Silk pointed out.

"It wouldn't be if you guys would let me have a cape!" Peter retorted.

The trio of veteran vigilantes groaned in harmonious unison.

"Peter," Knives said, running his hand across his silver mask, "we've been over this."

"No capes," Lady Silk recited.

"Our old comrade, SuperFly, had a cape," NightHawk said. "It got caught in a revolving door--"

"--during a chase. I know. You've told me," Peter sighed. "It's not like he's dead."

"No, not dead," Lady Silk agreed. "He was just forced into early retirement, with a live-in nurse, and has to take in all his meals through a feeding tube in his stomach. No big deal."

Peter scratched his head. "What if I had a short cape?"

"How short are we talking?" Knives asked.

Peter shrugged. "To my elbows?"

"Like a woman's shawl in the 1800s?" Lady Silk cried. "I would refuse to be seen in public with you!"

"I second that," NightHawk added.

Lady Silk rounded on Knives. "This is why I told you not to take on a teenager as your sidekick!"

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed. "I'm twenty-one!"

"That's not better," Lady Silk snapped.

"Can we get back on track, please?" NightHawk interrupted, dissolving the impending fight. "Lady Silk, you said there was terrible news."

"Yes," she said, showcasing the newspaper. "Look! Front page! A public service announcement from Doctor Impossible and his faction!"

"Strange that he didn't reserve space above the fold," NightHawk commented.

"Above the fold is pricey," Lady Silk shrugged. "Listen to this!"

She read the PSA aloud:

"As of today, the people of New York City will know the name 'Task Mayhem' and fear us! Prepare! Come 11pm tonight, EST, we will paint the town red!"

There were twin gasps from Knives and NightHawk.

"The article actually says 'paint the town red'?" NightHawk clarified, his eyes wide.

"No, I'm paraphrasing Doctor Impossible's threat," Lady Silk sneered. "Yes, it says 'paint the town red'."

"Is that bad?" Peter asked with bored nonchalance.

"Bad?!?" Lady Silk exploded. "You've never heard that before?!"

"No." Peter shrugged. "Is it, like, a saying?"

Glaring through her mask, she pointed an accusatory finger at Knives. "I thought you were training this tool?!"

"We haven't really gotten into history yet," Knives said, scratching his neck sheepishly.

With a huff, Lady Silk stalked to the bookcase. She grabbed a dictionary-sized volume from the top shelf and thrust it down on the tabletop in front of Peter. The cover read: Vigilantism - Complete History and Terminology.

"Yes, it's bad," she stated. "And yes, it's a saying. One of the most well-known phrases in vigilante history." She opened the massive book to a specific page. "Read."

Propping up the cinderblock of pages, Peter began to read aloud the section to which she had so aggressively pointed:

"During the 1930s, masked vigilantes made their second known appearance to the public when notorious gangster Harlon Falcone committed a mass murder of police officers. This bloody night in history is best remembered for the now-infamous phrase coined by Falcone himself: 'The buildings of this city will be splattered with the blood of coppers who crossed me! Tonight, I will paint the town red'."

Peter looked up from the book. "Oh...shizzzz. It's going to be a massacre."

"Yes," Lady Silk said. She tossed her curtain of black hair over her shoulder and put her fists to her hips, adopting her Hero Stance. "Unless we stop Task Mayhem."

"And that's exactly what we'll do," NightHawk announced. "We'll gear up with our favorite weapons, brush up on our best heroic catchphrases, and stop this paint job before it begins!"

In practiced unison, they thrust their gloved fists into the air.

"Heroes!" they chanted.

"I'll get the car!" Knives said, dashing toward the garage.

"And I'll grab the popcorn and folding chairs," Peter said. "You know, in case we're too late."

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