CCN (COAST CITY NEWS) - SPECIAL REPORT
"We interrupt this program for urgent updates regarding the daylight incident in Coast City. Initial reports confirm a bloody confrontation in the Ocean Heights district involving an unidentified vigilante and multiple hostile Metas.
The disturbing amateur video footage depicts a violent altercation culminating in the apparent death of at least one subject. Authorities are scrambling to identify the victims and ascertain the full circumstances surrounding the event, while public reaction is divided, with some praising the figure's actions against what are being described by some online sources as 'inhuman attackers.'
Others, however, decry the blatant display of lethal force in a public space. We go now live to our correspondent on the ground..."
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THE DAILY PLANET - WEST COAST EDITION HEADLINE
[Coast City's Bloody Dawn: Vigilante Justice or Savage Execution?]
Eyewitness Accounts Describe Monstrous Attacker as Online Debate Rages. Experts Weigh In on Legality and Implications of the Daylight Killing.
"... The graphic nature of the footage has sparked intense debate across social media platforms. Hashtags such as #CoastCitySavior and #DemonMenace are trending across the State, reflecting the polarized opinions on…"
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CYBERCURRENT - TRENDING NOW
[Was Coast City's Demon a Hero? New Video Analysis Reveals Shocking Details!]
"... Internet sleuths are poring over every frame of the amateur footage, seeking clues to the nature of both the attacker and the victims. Theories abound, ranging from a new Meta to stranger, more occult explanation. » Click here for exclusive analysis and reader comments!"
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COAST CITY CHRONICLE - LOCAL NEWS
[Daylight Massacre Shocks City: Who is the Demonic Figure?]
"... Residents of Ocean Heights are reeling after witnessing the brutal events in their neighborhood…"
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CAPE & COWL FORUMS » West Coast Meta-Activity » Thread: The Dawn Incident (Coast City)
Posted by: CC_Watcher
Subject: Holy crap. Look what just happened in Ocean Heights.
Notice: This thread has been deemed unsafe and locked by Moderators for violating our [Community Safety Guidelines]
<
"No context. Just wow."
User: JusticeJunkie
"These werent muggers or gang members people. Whatever that kid is he knew what he was dealing with. I'm sleeping better tonght knowing someone's fighting whatever those things were."
User:BeaconOfHope
» Replying to JusticeJunkie
"Are you serious right now? A dozen people just burnt to death in broad daylight! My sister was at the park three blocks away when this happend. I don't care what or who those people were. What happens when he decides speeders or shoplifters are threats? This is how cities turned into war zones."
User: MetaSpec_Analysis
"Okay lets all take a breath here. I've analyzed the footage frame by frame. The kid's methods seem extreme but if these were legitimate vampires holding him hostage, i think it's excuseable? Still pretty disturbing to watch though."
User: SingleMomCC
» Replying toMetaSpec_Analysis
"I live two streets over and heard the screaming. My 8 year old keeps asking why the 'scary boy' was so angry. How do I explain this to him? That monsters are real but the good guys look like monsters too? Im genuinely considering moving back to Metropolis. Supe doesn't kill n he smiles when he saves people."
User: CivilLibertiesNow
"The precendent this sets is terrifying. An unidentified minor is now judge jury and executioner on our streets. Yes the attackers were clearly inhuman but we have systems for dealing with supernatural threats. Kid didn't even try to capture or contain. He went straight to leathal force and then KEPT GOING after the threat was neutralized. That's not heroism."
User: VampireHunter1996
» Replying to CivilLibertiesNow
"Systems? My uncle was killed by something with fangs like that six months ago. Police wrote it off as an 'animal attack.' Superman can't be everywhere at once, green lantern's barely around half the time and the DEO only shows up after body counts reach double digits. The kid did what needed doing and he did it efficently. Thats points to him in my book."
User: EdgeLord_69
"that uppercut at 00:45 was absolutely legendary. gotham wishes it had someone this effective instead of their emo cosplayer who just puts criminals in arkham. and maybe if green lantern spent less time playing space cop this wouldnt be neccessary 🤷♂️"
User: SingleMomCC
» Replying to EdgeLord_69
"This isn't a video game you psycho. Hes normalizing brutality and is it just me or does he look like one of the Red Lanterns? Crimson Sky incident, anyone?"
User: TheologicalDebate
"I keep coming back to his appearence. The horns the eyes the overall demonic aesthetic. Perhaps we're looking at this wrong. Perhaps this isn't vigilantism but something far older. Biblical even. The vampiric nature of his targets supports this theory."
User: Skeptic_Always
» Replying to TheologicalDebate
"Or maybe its just the classic meta vs meta. Not like therexs a lack of those. Lay off the cravks buddy."
User: JesusIsKing
» Replying to TheologicalDebate
"Jesus is king."
User: VampireHunter1996
» Replying to JesusIsKing
"Jesus didn't save my uncle or avenged him. The CoastalDevil did."
User: JesusIsKing
» Replying to VampireHunter1996
"Pretending to be a sheep is how they get to the flock. Repent."
User: EdgeLord_69
» Replying to JesusIsKing
"Omg, STFU bot!"
User: ConspiracyNut666
"This is obviously staged by the government to cover up the [» Insert Political Upheaval Here]! Wake up you sheeple! Classic problem reaction solution while they push legislation behind our backs!"
User:GlueSniffer(Moderator)
» Replying to ConspiracyNut666
"Conspiracy theories belong in the appropriate subforum. Keep this thread focused on the actual incident please."
Pages: [1] 2 3 4 … 71
Capes Online: 714
Thread Status:LOCKED
Reason:Community Safety Guidelines Violation
Moderator: GlueSniffer
Time: Today at 11:47 AM
Related Threads:
» West Coast Meta Activity
» Supernatural Threat Response Protocols
» VAMPIRES ARE REAL?!!
~ § ~
East of Illinois, inside a half-constructed airport long since abandoned by investors, whole banks of monitors cast sickly glow on concrete walls, displaying feeds from across the States.
The screens danced with fragments of old News, cycling through months of archived footage. One by one, images of costumed figures flashed by—of heroes, villains, and the endless parade of masks that kept the world occupied while he sat in his… Tomb, healing. Rotting…
"—Accusations of training child soldiers—"
The words echoed in the empty space, bouncing off bare walls that had witnessed too many sleepless nights as his fingers drummed against the metal desk.
How long had it been since his last real contract? Since someone had needed Deathstroke's particular brand of problem-solving?
The Imp had nearly killed him. Left him broken, bleeding, forced to crawl back to this hole in the ground to piece himself back together. And while he'd been licking his wounds, the world had kept spinning without him.
Contracts had gone to lesser assassins.
Opportunities had passed him by.
He himself hadn't bothered picking up contracts in weeks. The money had never mattered to Slade anyway; it was always about the hunt, the challenge, the thrill!
A thrill that'd been missing from his life ever since the Terminator nearly died at the hands of a child…
He was caught off-guard; it was a tactical miscalculation; he got bad intel—the excuses were practically writing themselves, but neither the underworld nor Deathstroke himself dealt in excuses. He lost, plain and simple… Not to a rival, not to an equal, not to the Bat of Gotham, but to the fucking Sidekick of all people.
He—a super-soldier with a body count spanning two decades, a name that could stop a man's heart—had been bested and brought low by a teenager who still stank of breast milk.
At last, the monitors settled on images of a figure lashing out with his staff or fist.
Slade's hand drifted to the angry, inflamed scar on his neck—a souvenir from their last encounter; scarred face twisting into what might have been mistaken for a smile under the blue-white glow of the screens. The Imp was in Coast City…
Far from Gotham.
Far from his mentor's watchful eye.
Far from any backup.
Slade picked up the burner phone and accessed the contract board, immediately filtering the list by a single location: Coast City, and seven contracts presented themselves.
The world had grown complacent in his absence… People had forgotten what his name meant, and it was high time for a reminder.
.
.
.
"Today, we're talking about Newton's Second Law of Motion. Sounds complicated, but it's built on three ideas you already know: Force, Mass, and Acceleration—"
The physics equations on the whiteboard might as well have been hieroglyphics, and Mr. Peterson's droning Alien for all the attention Rowan was giving either.
"Mass is how much 'stuff' is in an object—"
He looked at the windows three seats to his right, envying the students who could at least watch the world outside… No window seat for him, unfortunately.
"Force equals Mass times Acceleration. The more mass, the more force you need. Now, if I have a 2-kilogram ball and I—"
The chalk scraped against blackboard as Rowan returned to his textbook doodles, halfway done with his sketch of his hellish Mindscape when Mr. Peterson decided enough was enough. "Is my lecture too boring for you, Mr. Renard?"
Rowan, however, remained completely absorbed in his textbook sketches, pen moving with growing urgency across the margins until teacher's frustration finally boiled over into a sharp bark: "Mr. Renard!" Only then did the boy lift his head, his parted, dyed dark hair shifting to reveal a pair of bewildered purple eyes.
He blinked slowly, as if surfacing from deep water, clearly having not a clue why his name was being shouted across the classroom while the other students snickered to themselves.
"Care to share to the class what's so fascinating that you can't spare a moment for Sir Isaac Newton?"
The morbid sketch of Hell and the dark silhouette basking in the roaring cheers of the Damned stared back at him from his textbook, almost as though daring him to bring them to light.
Slamming the textbook closed and hoping no one had glimpsed his doodles, Rowan forced a weak smile. "Just... Notes, Mr. Peterson."
But the hardass wasn't having any of it. "I very much doubt Newton's laws require such artistic interpretation. Your textbook, please."
"How 'bout I solve one of those problems instead? Prove I understand the material?"
But if there was one thing Peterson had learned in his fifteen years of teaching, it was that you let one kid negotiate his way out of consequences, and soon the whole class would think rules were optional.
"I'm not here to bargain with you. I am not your friend; I am your teacher, Mr. Renard. Now, your textbook… Do not make me repeat myself again."
Rowan's shoulders sagged as he surrendered the book with a defeated, "You asked for it."
'Another rebellious artist.' Peterson thought dismissively, snatching up the textbook.
He was ready to shame the boy in front of everyone when the drawings stopped him cold.
His hands began to shake as he turned page after page, sketch after sketch.
"What is wrong with you?"
"I tried to warn you."
"What is this?!"
Rowan leaned in closer, scratching his chin as he studied the drawings, "Hmm... Looks like Hell to me." Then he nodded. "Ye-ep, definitely Hell."
.
.
.
Bored out of his mind, Rowan leaned back in his chair and groaned.
What was the big deal about some doodles anyway? Sure, he'd drawn them during class, and they were indeed a little… Gruesome, but he wasn't hurting anyone!
'Goddammit, Bruce.'
Watching the way the problem students chuckled and spoke and united, a tongue Rowan could somewhat grasp but struggled to articulate, he tilted his head, and felt his mind wander to last Wednesday, and to that blasted phone call.
'—You're relieved of your role and responsibilities starting today, Rowan. Deliver all previously-issued equipment to the nearest safehouse for decommissioning.' That same evening, the Batler gave him a call as well and here Rowan was.
He wanted to pretend the suit, the gadgets, the reputation didn't matter; that he was still the Imp with or without them.
But, well, they did matter.
Of course they did.
Without the armor, without the mask, he felt... Exposed... Naked, which was probably a fantasy-come-true for certain… Subsets of people, but the nudest lifestyle really wasn't his thin—
His internal monologue suddenly cut short as a pen cap bounced off the back of his skull.
He ignored it, refusing to give the little shits the satisfaction.
By the third, however, Rowan was positively murderous.
Turning in his seat, he locked eyes with the sneering jock two rows back.
Flanked by his buddies, the senior quarterback lounged in his chair like he owned the place and grinned, oblivious to the fact he could've died ten times over in that span of time while the 'victim' silently contemplated the logistics of having a whole football program for middle schoolers. When the idiot decided to chuck an entire pen at him next, Rowan finally retaliated, catching and flicking it right out the window.
"Ms. Danielle! That kid's littering!"
A jock, and a snitch… 'Boy, he's not gonna make it very far, is he?'
Withstanding the teacher's withering stare, Rowan blinked, for once not having to fake his innocence.
"And you thought the appropriate response was vandalism?"
He'd merely believed it wise to deprive his opponent of a 'weapon.' "I'm curious... What would have been an appropriate response in your opinion?"
"You should have raised your hand and informed me, Mr. Renard. I know you're still adjusting to a new environment," In fact, everybody knew he and Zatanna were new to the scene. Harborview didn't get that many transfers halfway through the first semester, after all. "But at Harborview Preparatory, we don't solve problems by creating new ones."
Heat flashed through Rowan's chest at her patronizing tone, followed by a violent impulse he'd definitely regret heeding, so he forced it down instead. The condescending tone, the immediate focus on his reaction rather than the initial attack... It was so familiar it made his gums ache.
"So are you planning to discipline him and his friends too? Or is punishing the targets for pushing back another of Harborview's many 'wondrous' traditions too?"
"You watch your tone, young man!"
"I see… The aggressor faces no consequences, but the target is punished for their response. Is that about right?"
Ms. Danielle's face instantly flushed red with… Anger? Embarrassment? Who knew?
"That is enough of your antics, Mr. Renard! For your insolence, you can add essays to your detention—five-hundred words on respect and conflict resolution each!"
Same rules as the street then…
The wolf gets a warning, while the sheep gets scars and is told it should have bleated for help sooner.
If this were their brand of Justice, then he might as well wipe his ass with it and feed it to the dogs.
Rowan rose and started packing.
"Where do you think you're you going, young man? You're not dismissed!" Walking toward the classroom door with his head held high, he paused in front of the jock's outstretched foot and tilted his head. "Your parents don't hit you much, do they…?"
Too bad the little shit was still just a kid. Give him four or five years to grow into those shoulders, and he would gladly slap some much needed manners into him… Rowan nearly smiled at the thought. "Shame indeed. Don't pull this shit again. Where I come from, you could get popped for stunts like this… It's not a nice place… I'm not a nice person."
Nobody knew what was on his mind as he walked out, only that a faint smile graced his face while he repeated to himself. "There's no glory in it, Ro-Renard. No glory."
He could only hope Zee was faring better than he was.
"Maybe I should go back to the streets."
Nobody bothered anybody there, and if they did, he could at least kick their ass…
Hours blended into days, days into weeks, and weeks became a month as he settled into the new routine: School, Magic practices, physical conditioning. Rinse and repeat.
He didn't know if the school ended up contacting Wayne Manor or not. If they did, Bruce didn't mention it. The guy didn't call him at all, in fact.
Alfred did though. The Batler never missed his weekly check-in.
Dick rarely, but Rowan just figured he was busy with his new responsibilities. Training to become Robin was a hell of an ordeal, after all, so it was a genuine shock when his phone flashed Dic—Richard's name. "How is my favorite 'nephew' doing?"
"—I'm your only 'nephew,' Rowan."
"That's beside the point." He didn't have the heart or patience to explain that three more 'Robins' were coming down the pipeline. Four if you counted Stephanie, but honestly, who did?
They talked for fifteen minutes before the conversation inevitably turned to. "How's... Everyone?"
"—Alfred's pretty torn up about your fallout. And Bruce seems... I don't know, distracted? He's out late,"
"When isn't he?"
"—But he's, well, not sloppy exactly, but... Sloppier? Can't you guys just talk this out?"
"I am not apologizing."
"—Rowan…"
"No. You can't seriously think she was redeemable!"
Though Bruce never pressed for information, Rowan knew Zatanna must've already provided him with a complete rundown of the night's events. "I prevented a disaster, Dick! And that's what he chooses to focus on?! The bitch wasn't even human!"
"—If you kill a vampire today because she's not human, who do you kill tomorrow? A meta who's too powerful? A criminal who won't quit? It's a slippery slope."
Rowan would've rolled his eyes if his facial muscles hadn't frozen stiff. "I didn't kill her because she was a Vampire, I killed her because she was a complete fucking psycho AND a Vampire." Was it personal? Definitely! But, again, that was beside the point.
'Didn't Bruce kill plenty of Vampires himself?' It might not have been this Bruce, but for the third time, that was beside the point. His hard line was against Murder.
This was sanitation! It was him extinguishing the spark before it could blow into a forest fire!
'Wasn't he literally t-posing while Dracula burnt to ashes?! What's he even mad about?!'
"—Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think this is solely about the Vampires, Rowan."
"What does that even mean?!"
Dick hung up not long after.
Tossing and turning in bed for maybe five minutes, Rowan finally gave up.
He needed air, space, anything that wasn't four walls and his spiraling thoughts.
Outside Shadowcrest, his Storm Elemental bobbed alongside him like a any pet. Apparently the Conjuration was a one-way street and since his magical tutor knew like half a dozen Familiar-Binding Rituals, the older Mage had stepped in to make things official, and wasn't that a surprise?
If anyone was going to tear him a new one, it should've been Zatara, but he had been nothing if not understanding about the whole mess. "Speak of the Devil..."
"Rowan? What are you doing awake at this hour?"
"I need some air." With tar and nicotine, preferably.
"I see you and your familiar are getting along well."
"Yeah, Kaiju's pretty cool."
Zatara gently tapped the shoulder of a stationary golem, its clay form pulsing with a soft, Enochian light as he glanced over his shoulder. "Allora, ragazzo mio. How are you handling all of this?"
Rowan kicked at a loose stone and sighed. "Trying... And failing... Do you think I'm wrong, Teach?"
"Do you think you are?"
"No." The Demon answered without an ounce of hesitation.
"Then that's what matters most. Besides, vampires and humans have been locked in this struggle since the dawn of civilization. They are predators by nature, and we are their prey. If we'd shown mercy and spared every one that crossed our path, I fear neither of us would be having this conversation tonight."
For the first time since this whole mess began, he wasn't being condemned.
The relief didn't quite silence the doubt as he'd hoped, but it was reprieve at least. "Thank you."
"I should be thanking you… You saved my daughter's life."
"She never would've been in danger if it wasn't for me."
"Perhaps. But when it mattered, you chose to protect her, which makes you family as far as I'm concerned…"
The Mage's posture suddenly relaxed in a way Rowan hadn't ever seen before; the tension finally gone from his eyes and shoulders as he reactivated the Golem who lifted the halberd up its shoulder.
● Rowan will remember that.
"So what's changed? You seemed so sure of yourself that night."
He lifted his head, looking past Zatara to the vast, star-dusted canvas of the night sky.
"A lot of people think I made the wrong call.
And, I don't know…
Maybe I am a monster?"