"So when the last little slice of moon in the sky disappeared behind a cloud, he hushed in, silent like a phantom. He knew the guard's schedule, and he knew where the cameras where, and he was the best there was, so he wasn't seen by either of them."
"Did he also have his mask on, Mommy?"
"Of course, darling. He knew he wouldn't be seen, but he also had his mask on, because he knew no one could ever be half as smart as they thought they were. Not even him."
"But he was smarter as everyone!"
"That he was, darling. At least ten times smarter. And so he always said to himself: Michael,"
"Just like me, Mommy!"
"Yes, just like you, Mikey. He said to himself: Michael, you're ten times as smart as them, so you need to be a hundred times as careful. And so he was extra careful when he put the bombs on the vault door, and extra extra careful when he snuck back to cover.."
"And boom!"
"And there was a huge boom! The whole bank shook, and all the alarms went off. But because he was so smart and famous, all the heroes were always waiting for him to make a move, and they all went to surround the building."
"But he escaped, right?"
"No, he didn't."
"What? But he-"
"Shh darling. When the heroes stormed in, they only found the rests of a very loud bomb, but they didn't find him. Because he was in a different bank. Where he smiled, and pressed his button, and his small and not very loud bombs blew the vault door open. No door could ever withstand his mixtures."
"And then he escaped!"
"Yes, then he filled his bags with money, and escaped. And do you know what he did then, darling?"
"Then he came home!"
"Yes, then he came home again, to his little boy who he loved very much. And he went into his room and gave him a big hug, just like this one. And he tucked him in, just like this. And then he kissed him good night, just like this, and he said: good night, my darling. I love you."
"Night, Mommy."
Mikey yawned, and I smiled as I switched off the lights, took off my silly old mask, and closed the door with a quiet "Sweet dreams, my dear."



Outside I paused for a moment to really look at that mask. Even though I had sewn it together before I had known of my father's second identity, it did look a lot like his. Great minds thought alike, but there had never again been a mind quite like his. I'd always been better with textiles than with thieving anyways. Crafting hero costumes might not have been as exciting, or as glamorous, as being the Phantom Thief, but still a challenging and informative task, plus a safe and steady source of income. Emily's Costume Tailoring had quickly become a full success.
I put the mask aside and waited for another moment until I felt the hands of my not particularly sneaky husband Jerry on my shoulders. "He adores him, doesn't he?"
"Very much," I turned around and closed the embrace, "but not as much as he adores us."
"Oh, Honey. I don't have nearly as interesting stories to tell."
"Maybe Mikey has yet to discover his passion for insurance policies." I planted a kiss on his lips, but today that didn't seem to completely calm him.
"Honey, don't you think he adores him maybe a bit too much?"
Where did that come from? "My father was a wonderful man!"
I took a step back, but he drew me back in. "Honey, I know. Please. I know how much you loved him, and how much he loved you. I liked him too, you know? All I'm saying is, all those people he robbed weren't very taken by him, now were they?"
"Taken in maybe.." He did have a point there.
"And the whole city was chasing clues to crack his identity.. Honey, aren't you worried Mikey will want to follow in his footsteps?"
I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and embraced my Sweetie again. "No. Not one bit."

With a gentle but certain arm around his waist, I began to lead him towards our couch in the living room. "Mikey won't follow in his footsteps. My father's path has ended. There's nothing left to follow."
This time, he was the one to offer a kiss. "But you make it sound so amazing what he did. So exciting. The life of a villain."
"It was, I'm sure. But I'm also sure Mikey won't want to become one. He's a smart kid. Smart like my father, like me, and like you. Only complete idiots become villains these days."
We both let us sink into our couch together. It was a miracle how one piece of furniture could bring one so much closer to heaven. One piece of furniture and a familiar shoulder to lean on. The wine carafe I had prepared earlier that evening didn't hurt either.
My husband poured us a glass, took a sip, and passed it on to me. "Only idiots? I thought your father was such a smart man."
"He was Sweetie," I let myself relax against him and took a sip myself, "the most cunning there ever was." Light and fruity, but not too sweet. This batch was one of my better works. "But those were different times. No police, and people still used hard cash."
"I know Honey."
Those had been different times indeed. My dad and I never had had much of a problem with the thieves, but we were always on the move. 'Home is where your heart is, darling,' was what he used to say. But in contrast to his, my heart was more than content to stay here in this home I had built for myself. Here on this couch, with the boy asleep next door, the glass of wine in my hands, and this arm around my shoulders.
"Honey? But are you really not even worried he'll want to try it for himself?"
"No. I'm sure he'll see how dumb that'd be."
"But-" I cut him off by softly caressing his leg.
"Come, Sweetie. Have a little trust in our little man. And the two of us." I attempted to give him a soft peck on the cheek, but he saw through it and stole a quick kiss.
"Besides, if Mikey really were to become a villain you could always sell insurance against him as well."

Ouch. Jerry's arm tensed up in an instant. "What's wrong, Sweetie?"
He drew in a deep breath before clutching me to his side. "There's been another attack today."
"What do you mean, another attack?"
"What do you mean, what do you mean? It was another attack! Another bomb. Half the building's gone."
"No!" A bombing? But how? "It can't be League of Terror again! Can it?"
"Who else would it be? It's a new low even for them. The target was flat house this time. Ms. Cooper from the cargo department and two neighboring families died in the explosion."
He was shaking now. I was shaking now! There had never been casualties before! Well, two drunk security guards once.
"But why would anyone do this?"
"You said it yourself: only completely insane idiots would do such a thing."
"But this is different! What would anyone have to gain from this? You can't extort money from the dead."
"One can't extort money at all these days. The League is completely insane." The now half empty glass of wine must have slipped from my hands. He put it on the coffee table and grabbed my arm. "Honey, do you know how many demands for protection money we've gotten these past years? A dozen. Just at our company. Every single one of them has been paid, and every single transaction has been followed. Some even to foreign accounts and back. Not a single one has escaped arrest, and not a single one had anything to do with the League of Terror."

I couldn't believe it. Criminals these days really were nothing but idiots. Any sane person taking advantage of the League of Terror's name would have been afraid enough of being found out to make absolutely sure they weren't. After calming my hands I picked the glass back up and gulped the rest of wine down. A touch too sour.
"Rumor at work has it that they were after Madame Morrow. Ms. Cooper joined the company about a month after the Madame Morrow deal."
That actually made sense. The mysterious Madame Morrow had entered the scene shortly after the League of Terror, and had thwarted a large part of the League's attacks ever since. Since she was one of the few heroes who adamantly pretended that superpowers were real, Jerry had suggested his company use her for advertisement, and after a few most interesting weeks of negotiations through dead drops, the elusive Madame had agreed to use her divination powers to pay special attention to insured buildings.
And now someone had it out for her. "Are we in danger, Jerry?"
"Isn't everybody?"

---

'Isn't everybody. Isn't everybody.' Everyone really was in danger. We really were in danger. Whoever had carried out the attack would eventually realize there was no real reason to think Madame Morrow really was a woman. Or only one person for that matter. That they believed it anyways more than proved that they were complete idiots.
Dangerous idiots. Deadly idiots. It was wise to be scared. After all, who could predict what an idiot planned, if they didn't know it themselves?
Thoughts like these haunted me through the night, and through the next morning. The only thing I knew was, they were after Madame Morrow, Jerry had been the central figure in the Madame Morrow deal. It hadn't been made public, but we received a generous provision, and if the bombers had ways to figure out who joined the company at what time, then they would figure that out as well. They would come after my husband. They would come after us. Who knew how much time I had left.

Of course neither the TV nor the newspapers were any help. The police had no clue, they still were investigating the crime scene, but they would open it up for heroes in the evening. And one of my clients would be there.
I just had to decide which one, so I made my way out into our garden, towards the not quite so little studio I had turned most of the old garden house into.
On the way I allowed myself a brief smirk as I absentmindedly stroked a leaf of our fig tree. My sister in law hated figs. They were delicious, but the poor hag was allergic. To my greatest satisfaction Jerry had cut off contact with her after her shrieked complaints about how a solicitor and a seamstress could afford such a mansion, while she, as a hard working hero, barely got by. She should have worked smarter and gotten some actual results.



The moment I switched the studio lights on it became clear that there was no real decision to be made. Next to four other outfits in various stages of completion hung the now dried bodysuit of one of the most famous heroes to ever grace our city: Lady Lace was the masked face on at least one of the lifestyle magazines I'd subscribed to every single month, and while she swore that the revealing, long cuts I had fixed up were marks of combat, there was no way a blade that could cut through my creation would not also slit through the skin, flesh, and possibly bone of the human below. The costume was woven from a custom made synthetic fiber that was durable like thick leather, light and flexible like a second skin, and completely transparent. I'd dyed about half of the thread a clean white, and the resulting outfit fit the Lady's specifications of an 'alluring full body costume plus mask, skintight, but with complete freedom to move, warm and durable, but in a scandalously lacy look' to a T.
To say I was proud of the piece would be an understatement, and if Lady Lace was content with just playing dress up with it, well, someone else would have to put it to its intended use. The Lady may have the physique, and mindset, of a teenage model, but the fabric was as elastic as it was elegant, and my own body couldn't be that far off by now.
Actually, getting the leg parts to fit proved harder than I expected, and the inlaid push-up bra that would have turned even my husband into a well-stacked goddess pinched horribly, but before too long I got the outfit on. Emily would be out making deliveries tonight, and for the first time in possibly forever, Lady Lace would go hunt some actual villains. With flaming eyes and a determined grin, I went to prepare for the evening.

---

A notepad, a sketchbook, pens, and spare pens. A few small plastic bags for evidence, emergency toiletries, and two eggplant sized teddy bears for good and for bad luck. The mask lay atop everything else in my purse, I had an absurd amount of makeup on my face, and a long coat thrown over. Armed and ready like that, I finally got on the bus to a park near where the attack had happened. I changed behind some bushes on the way, and walked the rest in costume. Sadly, Lady like high heels had been too much of a hindrance, so I had settled for less daring footwear, but even though I felt a bit chilly in the costume, I was still hot.



Shortly after sunset I arrived at the brightly lit crime scene, which was, if anything, a sobering sight. The explosion had ripped off almost the entire house front, and reduced several rooms across all three floors to rubble. People had died here. Families had been ripped apart or wiped out. There might have been a mother, sipping her wine on the couch the remains of which now lay among the rubble. There may have been a small boy of almost six years, pushing his toy ships around in the now missing half of a bath tub.
I took the notepad out of my purse and got to work. The explosion had been powerful, but debris wasn't spread very widely. It must have occurred outside the building, probably somewhere above the first floor. I'd need to discretely find out which of the apartments had been Ms. Cooper's. Also the villains would have needed to strap the bomb to the wall, use a rocket or grenade launcher, or risk life and limb like complete idiots to throw an explosive of this magnitude. Should they have been competent enough to create bombs about as small, light, and powerful as my father's, then they might even have survived that. Nothing could be ruled out at this point.

The friendly police officer with whom I had to sign in asked for an additional autograph, which I provided with less enthusiasm than when I had practiced Lady Lace's signature back at home. But he still offered to go over the results of their investigations with me, apparently the villains had indeed used a grenade launcher, traces of propellant had been found on some trees.
It was both frightening and reassuring to see there had been actually competent people at work here.
After having the officer describe where I could find the spot, I walked over to see where the weapon had been fired from.



Right across the green, crossing over the beaten path I'd arrived on, past a park bench and a lantern I went. There, hidden behind a bush and surrounded by a few trees to each side was a small patch of grass. On it, a small number nine sign lay next to a single footprint, as well as spots that might have been from a knee and the tip of a shoe. A fifteen on a tree trunk behind it marked the alleged traces of propellant, but I couldn't make out anything unusual.
Except.. I'd thought I'd seen something off in the grass. With my flashlight out I took a closer look. A red hair, wet with dew, and about the length of my finger was what had caught my eye.

"Is the grass really that interesting, my Lady?"
I quickly got up, swung my hair over my shoulders, and assumed a more Lady like pose. "Very much so."
Before me stood a well-groomed man in dress pants, a white button down shirt, and a dark gray vest with a light blue flower pinned to it. He looked back at me with a self-satisfied smirk, to which there was only one response: "But you seem to have me at a disadvantage, I don't recall hearing anything about you." That part even was true. I had never put together an outfit like that, though I suppose this man had chosen normal, fashionable attire over a hero outfit.
"Ouch. The Dashing Derrick, at your service," his smile turned more earnest now, and he bowed slightly, "I've got to say I'm a fan, but I believe one such as you must almost get tired of hearing that all the time."
"I can't say I do." He was quite theatrical, but so was Lady Lace, so I offered him my hand; he took and kissed it.
Though he seemed surprised to feel no skin on his lips. "A bodysuit? I never would have noticed. But say," he took his eyes off my lace suit, and briefly looked over his shoulder spotting no one nearby, "you're not really Lady Lace, are you?"
The self-satisfied smirk that had found its way to my lips faltered. It had gone almost too well, so far. No one could ever be half as clever as they thought they were. Not even me. But I knew that, and so I had come prepared: "No, not really. I'm the Lady's apprentice."
"I didn't know Lady Lace took apprentices."
With my fingertips over my lips I gave a chuckle, mimicking one of the Lady's. "Oh she does, let's say, for a fitting amount of appreciation."
"Ah, a perfectly understandable decision. Don't we heroes all strive for justice and appreciation?"
"I'd drink to that."
"But say, dear colleague, have you come any further in the justice department? What was it that had you so fascinated about the grass?"
"Oh, a small detail that demanded my attention," a small step forward, a slightly too eager turn, and with another mimicking movement I presented him my other hand, "a tiny relic of someone's path towards baldness."
This seemed to have caught his interest. He took the hair from my fingers and examined it more closely. "Do you believe it belonged to the assailant?"
"Possibly. The hair was over here, right next to where the villain shot."
"Of course it might just be the hair of another colleague inspecting the crime scene." Wait. He secured the hair in a small plastic bag. In his small plastic bag! I couldn't believe how casually he let it slip into his pocket.
"Would you kindly hand that back, dear colleague? I'm having the officials analyse it in their laboratory."
Now the smirk we had been throwing back and forth was on his lips again. "I'm sorry, dear colleague, but I can't. I strive for justice, as well as appreciation. And there's only so much appreciation to go around. Have a dashing evening, my dear."

And off he went. It was illegal to remove evidence from the crime scene, the officer had warned me. Probably more so evidence that hadn't been cataloged yet, yet there he was casually walking off. That man had guts. Lady Lace would have loudly ordered his arrest, her apprentice would have considered demanding the same, but I..
I'd stay cautious. A stitch in time.. I'd have needed to find a way to analyse that hair myself anyways. It would have been next to impossible to get the test results from the police or the real Lady Lace. But that hair was my one and only lead.
What did I know? I didn't know where Derrick would take the hair, I didn't know how I would get it analysed quickly, or from where I would get data to check the result against. I did know how and where the officials would handle their analysis. There was no real decision.



I'd have stormed straight back to the officer and sent the police after Derrick, if it hadn't been for another peculiar figure holding me up halfway: "Aren't you Lady Lace? Can I get your autograph?"
Jeans, a visibly pudgy body covered by a still too wide pullover, a cape that seemed to be a towel held in place by safety pins. Unkempt, reddish brown hair that went just above his dull eyes, which were accentuated by a matching grin, surrounded by what could only be called an attempt at growing a beard. Was this a joke?
"And who might you be? Are you here just for my autograph? Or wasn't there maybe something else that drew you here, dear colleague?"
Oh, he huffed and puffed himself up. No, he got in a huff. I was impressed.
"This is the place of a League of Terror bombing. And I, Captain Avenger, will hunt down the ones responsible."
He seemed to deflate just as quickly, and switched the anger in his voice for sorrow in an instant:
"The League of Terror killed my parents, and I will not rest before I've put an end to their evil deeds!"
Was that an origin story? Seriously? "I'm terribly sorry about your fathers."
"My fathers?" I could've sworn his dull eyes turned cautious for just a blink. "Did you know my fathers?"
"I didn't I'm afraid. I only heard of their deaths in the Weston Brewery bombing six years ago. It must have been terribly hard on you."
He even had tears in his eyes by now. "It was. But I know that with their support I'll succeed. And put an end to the League of Terror!"
And how'd that turn out these past six years? "You have my support as well, Captain."
Lady Lace might have given him a hug right there, but I'd rather not have him examine me any more closely. Caution.
"Have you had a look at where the villain shot from already?"
"No. I was just on my way." Sure you were.
"Then I shall not take up any more of your time, Captain Avenger. Go and do what you must."



Without looking over my shoulder once, I strutted back to the officer, signed out, and walked off into the park. As soon as I was out of sight and had made sure I was alone, I hushed into the shadows of the trees, and snuck back to a point I'd be able to watch the crime scene from.
The boy calling himself Captain wasn't around, he must've still been investigating the spot behind the bush, but he'd come back to sign out. If he didn't want the police on his heels, that is. Maybe he was for real, was as dumb as he'd have me believe and would forget. What were the other options? He might have been a rookie hero trying to sound tough, but not a sane one. Any sane one would have feared for his life when taking on the League of Evil.
He might have been fascinated with heroes. Just a boy looking for autographs, but he would've been an idiot to play at this game, and far too good of an actor for his own good.
There also was the chance he was my target. An overeager boy, trying to impress the League. The dim light must have skewed my impression, but the hair I found could very well have been his. His story was solid enough, but far too memorable. A rookie mistake, really. He couldn't have been at it for too long, especially if he still thought himself smart enough to return to the scene.
In any case the boy was a complete idiot.
And some complete idiot out there was threatening my family. My only leads where two fools playing heroes, and no matter which one I'd chase after, I had to take chances.
Of course, I was moving in unfamiliar territory. Of course, I didn't have all the information. Father had shown me how acting without preparation could turn out, but I didn't have time to make sure, I didn't have time to stay safe. We already weren't safe!
Not acting was risky too, so why not take the better odds?

I'd be going all in on an idiot. With a scowl, I opened my purse, pulled out a pen, and one of the two happy teddy bears. Signed by Lady Lace herself, this homely creature would be the perfect gift. My bears were the perfect decoration already, just one of them placed on top of a shelf could warm up the atmosphere in any office, store, or warehouse, and all of that without looking out of place or drawing too much attention. Each one had been hand sewn, my sewing machine could not be trusted with these big eyed contraptions - for the fuzzy fabric was easily inflammable, and each bear was filled with a lightweight, soft synthetic, that was the result of years of improvement on my father's formula.
I pulled the bear's left eye out of its clip. The right one too, I shouldn't get sloppy now. With the tweezers from my toiletry bag I carefully adjusted the dials at the back of each eye before putting them back in. Back home I had set them to only four days, but even that was far too long for my liking now.

---

Luckily, the Captain didn't make me wait for too long. After he had signed out and left into the park, I went to meet him.
Of course I was nervous, I always was, but this time it was only the nervousness. No kick, no excitement. Still I managed to keep my act up just as well as he did.
"I almost forgot your autograph, dear Captain."
"Oh I can't believe you'd come back for me. Thank you! Thank you!"
"Anything for a fan. May it bring you sweet dreams."
"This is the luckiest day of my life!"

Goodnight, Captain. May you sleep deep and long.
I stood motionless as I watched the boy with his teddy bear disappear into the night.