Phone Phixers was just a few blocks from the clubhouse, but the walk was agonizing for Blackout. He’d gotten what he wanted: the right to pursue the Phone Phixers robbery. Unfortunately, it had come at the cost of the worst experience he’d ever had as a super. Every fear about how little people thought of him had been validated. Scenes of the heroes back at the clubhouse laughing at him behind his back dominated his headspace. Chunk and the Gecko had been extra kind and accommodating ever since. They spoke in a pitying tone that made Blackout feel as though he’d just received a terminal diagnosis.

As the trio walked into Phone Phixers, they were greeted by a large cutout of Fuega. Waves of shame and guilt washed over Blackout all over again. Chunk pushed Blackout past it, forcing him out of a rubbernecked stall and into the store. Ramiro was at the counter, as usual, tinkering with the inside of a smartphone.

“Hey, Ramiro, que lo que?” Chunk asked jovially.

Ramiro chuckled in approval.

“All good, boys. How can I help you? I hope it’s not a battery problem.”

“Batteries?” The Gecko croaked.

“Didn’t you hear? We got robbed.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Chunk cut in.

“Don’t worry about it, boys. Fuega’s on it.”

Ramiro gestured proudly to the cardboard cutout.

“She sent us.”

“No no no. No offense guys, but I sponsor Fuega. Fuega’s supposed to take care of me.”

Blackout felt a fresh punch to his gut. The internal ache was so strong, he couldn’t bring himself to participate in the conversation.

“Ramiro, let me tell you about my mom-” Chunk started.

“I don’t want to hear about your mom,” Ramiro was trying his best to keep his irritation out of his voice. “I put a lot of money into that sponsorship, how does she think she’s going to get paid next month if I don’t have any batteries?”

“Listen, my mom is a nurse. Every time she has to put an IV in, the patient asks her to go get a doctor to do it. She always asks the same question: do you want the doctor who hasn’t stuck a patient since med school, or do you want me, who’s done it every day for the last twenty five years?”

“What does that have to do with my batteries??”

“How long do you think it’s been since Fuega worked a lost property case? We’re the Knights, we’re not throwing asteroids at Destructoid. Petty crime is all we do. If the Infernal Circle's holding you hostage, call Fuega. If you actually want your stuff recovered, talk to us.”

Ramiro thought about it, and relented.

“Alright, alright.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing crazy, just a break in. Probably a crackhead.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because all he took was the batteries. If he kept looking, he would’ve found the phones. Those are worth some real money.”

“What kind of phones-”

“Wait-” Blackout jumped in. “He didn’t take anything else? No cases? No Chargers?”

“Nope. Just the batteries.”

“That’s weird. Why would he do that?”

“Who knows? Crackheads do crazy shit. Wish he would’ve just took the phones, to be honest.”

“Why?” Blackout effectively took over from Chunk.

“The phones would’ve been covered by insurance, I can replace them in a day.”

“Batteries aren’t covered?”

“They are. That’s not the problem. I got the money to replace them, but I can’t get any more. There’s a backorder for like three months.”

“How long is it normally?”

“They never had a backorder before. They said a lot of people were ordering from this area. Hey, you think this crackhead hit other stores too?”

The Knights exchanged looks.

“Do you have security cameras?” Blackout asked.

“Just that one,” Ramiro pointed at an overhead camera that overlooked the sales floor.

“Do you-”

“Don’t even ask. If I had footage of the guy, he’d already be in jail. The damn camera glitched out.”

The Knights traded alarmed glances once again.

“Can we see the footage?”

“If you really want to.”

Ramiro took out his phone, tapped around the screen, and pulled up the video. The section played showed a grainy figure messing with the lock, gaining entry into the store, bypassing the merchandise up front without even a look, and heading to the back like he knew exactly what he was after. It was impossible to make out any unique features. The closer he got to the camera, the grainier it became, until the video cut out entirely.

“Like I said, there’s nothing to see.”

“Can you send that to me?”

Blackout gave Ramiro his secure Heroes Guild contact information. Ramiro clipped out the important section of the video, and sent it over. Watching it on his own phone, it was clear to Blackout that this was not some crackhead. Whoever this was, there was a reason for what he was doing beyond simple robbery. The Knights bid farewell to Ramiro, assuring him they’d keep him in the loop as to their progress.

As soon as they were back out on the street, Blackout uploaded the video clip to the Heroes Guild Forensics App’s video analyzer. The Heroes Guild offered a powerful suite of investigative tools to their membership in the form of a phone app that came as a default on their Guild issued phones. A hero could upload an audio clip for translation, match a picture to the facial database, or even the fingerprint database, and in Blackout’s case, analyze video for nefarious interference. It would take at least a few hours-possibly overnight-for results to come in.

The rest of the day was spent going to every phone store in the neighborhood, and interviewing their proprietors. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about tripping over other heroes’ beats or sponsorship, as they could justify it as pertaining to their own case. What they found confirmed their suspicion. There was not a store owner they spoke to who hadn’t had all their batteries, and only their batteries, stolen. In some cases, they’d been hit twice, just after their replacement shipment came in. Those who had surveillance cameras, experienced an identical glitch to Phone Phixers. Blackout uploaded every clip to the app.

If the offender had stolen the phones, the robberies would have met the Guild’s standard for major theft. Heroes would be tripping over each other trying to catch the guy. Because batteries were classified as phone accessories, they were classified as petty theft. Petty theft was the lowest category of infraction, and thus barely moved the needle as far as quotas. For that reason, heroes all but ignored any instance of petty theft. Thus, none of the heroes who had been approached to solve any of the individual robberies had opted to pursue it beyond the initial complaint. This was the position for which Chunk advocated vociferously.

The Knights needed a place to hash out their conclusions at the end of the night. Their typical choice would have always been the clubhouse, but Blackout flat out refused. It would be quite a while before he felt brave enough to show his face anywhere near that place. As an alternative, Blackout suggested Phan’s, which was eagerly accepted. Much to both Blackout and Chunk’s disappointment, Grace was out at soccer practice. Mr. and Mrs. Phan, however, were thrilled to have them. Though the Knights begged, the Phans adamantly refused payment, so they ordered an egg tart each, and settled into a booth in the corner.

“I just don’t think it’s worth it,” Chunk said.

“Thirteen stores got robbed!” Blackout argued.

“It would take-what?-nine hundred fifty to get us to quota.”

“There’s more going on here than just petty theft!”

“You don’t know that!”

“Thirteen stores that we know of, not a single item stolen except batteries-”

“It could be a coincidence!”

“It’s a pattern! Eleven videos. All with the same glitch. Back me up here, Gex!”

“It’s too weird,” the Gecko piped up.

“Okay, so what if it’s the same guy? You don’t know that he’s up to anything more than stealing a bunch of batteries.”

“Look, the a reason he’s targeting batteries is because it’s petty theft.”

“That’s a hell of a reach, Blackout.”

“No it’s not! This guy’s disrupting security feeds. He knows the Heroes Guild Crime Index. Whoever this guy is, he’s gotta be a serious villain. He’s stealing these batteries for a reason.”

“What reason could there possibly be??”

“That’s what we have to find out.”

“I just don’t see it, dude. What if you’re right that this dude knows the index? What if he’s figured out there’s a blind spot for batteries, which are expensive, even if they’re only classified as accessories? What if we catch him, and all we get out of it is a bunch of batteries?”

“What if we heroes solve a string of robberies in our community and return the stolen property?”

“Return a bunch of batteries to people who’ve already been paid out for it by insurance. It’s a waste of time. As it stands, this gets us no closer to quota.”

“You want to give up on quota anyway, what do you care?”

“I want to give up because I don’t want to put in a ton of effort only to miss quota anyway. That’s this. The only thing I hate more than working is working for nothing.”

“Well, I think it’s worth it,” Blackout said petulantly.

“Great, let me know how it goes,” Chunk said, getting up from his seat. “I’m going home.”

“Fine, me and Gex’ll figure this out on our own.”

“My shift starts soon,” the Gecko said, also sliding out of the booth.

“If you need me, I’ll be playing pinball until the month’s over. I’m assuming you’re not going to be there.”

“No, I’ll be working a case. You know, like a hero?”

“See you, Blackout,” the Gecko said.

“Have a good shift, Gex.”

Chunk and the Gecko left the store together. Blackout was facing away from the door, but heard the familiar ringing of the bell. The night was winding down, and the restaurant was emptying. Blackout sat there, turning the case over and over in his head. There was nothing new to glean, other than wild speculation. Every few moments, he refreshed the forensics app, hoping for his results to come in. No matter how many times he looked, it always said ‘PENDING’. His brain kept trying to drag him back into what had happened with Fuega at the clubhouse. The only defense he had was to try to keep his focus on the case. No matter what he did, it was simmering just under the surface of every thought in his mind.

When he realized he was the last one in the restaurant, Blackout checked the clock. It was only a few minutes to closing. Blackout gathered himself up and prepared to offer to help bus tables and flip chairs, which the Phans would refuse outright. Then that little bell jingled again.

“Di Mai, Di Chinh, sorry I’m so late-Blackout, hey!” Grace had worn her gym clothes home, her face plastered with the residue of evaporated sweat.

“Hey, I’m on my way out…”

“No, don’t go! I just got here!”

Grace smiled at Blackout. She was genuinely happy to see him. He had experienced such complete social desolation after everything that had happened to him that day. The simple fact that there was someone in the world who was happy to see him lifted his spirits out of his bottomless pit of wallowing misery. That it was Grace who wanted to spend time with him was even more exhilarating. She plopped down next to him in his booth, tossing her backpack and gym bag under the table.

“Can I cash in my question early?” Grace was all excited.

During their first tutoring session, Grace learned that she and Blackout were the same age. As a joke, she promised him that she’d uncover his secret identity. What started as a joke developed into a genuine fixation for her. After a few weeks of Grace relentlessly unleashing volleys of questions, and Blackout doing his best to deflect them, they came to an agreement: she got one question to ask him per week, which he would have to answer truthfully. At first these questions were general and vague. Lately, however, they were getting frighteningly specific and accurate.

“That depends, are you going to try to sneak another one when you’re tutoring me?”

“What kind of person do you think I am??” Grace feigned offense.

Blackout answered with tight lips and raised eyebrows.

“Ok, fine. I promise I won’t.”

“Shoot.”

“Does the name Leslie Blackwell mean anything to you?”

Blackout’s face must have registered the shock in his gut, because Grace whooped and threw up her hands in triumph.

“So how was soccer?”

“Don’t change the subject! Is she your teacher??”

“That’s two questions!”

“Yeah, well you didn’t answer the first one. Is Mrs. Blackwell your teacher?”

“Yes.”

Grace gloated by doing a little victory dance in her seat. Blackout was dumbfounded.

“You should just take the mask off now. You’ve got no chance hiding from me.”

“You wouldn’t know who I was without the mask, either.”

“You’re right. I guess there’s no reason to wear it.”

Grace grabbed for the mask, but Blackout’s reflexes were too quick. With a turn of his hand, he easily deflected Grace’s hand, while darting his head away for good measure.

“Relax,” Grace chuckled. “I kid, I kid.”

“How did you find out?”

“I have my ways….your textbook.”

“Bullshit. Every junior in the city uses that textbook.”

“Yes, but I don’t have to search the whole city. You live in the Heights. Every other school in the heights uses the eighth edition. Only Mrs. Blackwell still teaches out of the third edition.”

Everything Grace did was amazing in Blackout’s eyes. This feat, however, rose above the rest as genuinely impressive.

“How did you find that out??”

“I have a lot of friends in a lot of schools, Andrew. I may just have one in your class.”

“My name’s not Andrew,” Blackout laughed out of pure relief.

Grace’s eyes narrowed to little slits.

“Are you sure? You have to tell the truth.”

“You already used your question.”

“Hmm…I’ll trust you…For now…”

For the next few minutes, Grace told Blackout about soccer practice. The drills they ran sounded more grueling than anything he had to do as a hero. She easily did enough cardio to be a super. While listening to a story about Grace getting tripped up and missing a pass, Blackout couldn’t help his mind wandering back to Fuega and his humiliation.

“Are you ok?” Grace asked.

“Huh?”

“You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing. Just stupid stuff.”

“If you care about it, it’s not stupid.”

“You’re in the middle of a story. You don’t want to hear about my dumb problems.”

Grace reached out and put her hand on Blackout’s forearm, leaving it there. The warmth of her hand soaked through his sleeve. She made firm eye contact.

“Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

It was the second time that day Blackout had been touched affectionately by a girl hopelessly out of his league, a new personal record. He prayed that this time would end better than the first. The sincerity of Grace’s concern, the weight of her hand on his arm, broke down his defenses. From the top, he spilled everything. In his retelling, he tried to be as impartial as he could be. The last thing he wanted to do was give Grace the impression that he thought himself infallible. He did plead his case for innocence, and she was the first one willing to listen.

“That sucks, man. It’s like, sometimes, it doesn’t matter if it’s your fault or not, you still have to eat shit. It’s not right.”

Blackout shrugged.

“I guess I’m never going back there.”

“It’ll blow over.”

“You didn’t see Fuega. She was really mad. And the way everyone was looking at me. I’ll never live that down.”

“I used to feel like that, then I shat my pants first day of freshman year.”

Blackout couldn’t hide his shock. Grace just laughed at him.

“It was first period too. I spent all of elementary school, middle school, and junior high being a total loser nerd with no friends. I was sooo excited to start in this high school full of people just like me. New school, new me, you know? Then, before I could even meet anyone, I shat my fucking pants. I didn’t even go to second period. I ran home and cried to Di Mai until my throat got sore. I begged her to move me to another school. The next morning, she got me dressed like any other day, and sent me to school.”

“That must have been horrible…”

“It was rough. Everyone knew me as the shit girl before I even talked to any of them. Now, nobody cares. I don’t care. People still remember it and tease me, but who cares, you know? They’re the ones living in the past.”

“Wow. I wish I could be like you.”

“You can be. Just shit your pants in front of a lot of people.”

Blackout snorted. Grace took it as a victory.

“Seriously. You think everyone’s got you under a magnifying glass, but that’s just not how people work. I mean-how much do you pay attention to everything I do?”

“A lot,” Blackout let slip out before he could stop himself.

Blackout froze, horrified and mortified. For a split second, he was sure he'd ruined everything. First Fuega, and now this. Things were going to be so awkward between them, their friendship would never recover. Then, he felt a light slap on his shoulder. Then, a few more.

“Stop! Don’t even joke about that!” Grace’s voice took on a strange, lilting tone.

Was it good slapping or bad slapping? Thank the lord she thought he was kidding. What did she mean by “Don’t even joke about that!”? Because she actually wanted him to like her, because she liked him? Impossible. Surely it meant that the very idea of her liking him was so offensive to her that he had to be joking around about it. But then, why did she still seem happy? Was this flirting? Did he accidentally flirt with her? Was she flirting back? Of course not. Banish the thought. That was the kind of dangerous hope that could only lead to heartbreak.

“For real though, think about how many embarrassing things you’ve seen from other people in that clubhouse. How much do you think about those things when you see them now? Never, right? That’s how much they’re going to think about you. People don’t spend their time thinking about other people. They think about themselves. In a couple days, all anyone’s gonna care about is what’s for lunch. Don’t sweat it, Cody.”

“My name’s not Cody, either.”

“Process of elimination, Michael.”

Just then, Blackout’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw that the video analysis results had finished processing. Deliberate External Interference.

“I knew it!” Blackout called out.

“What?”

“Nothing, just hero stuff.”

“Did you find out who robbed Phone Phixers?”

“No, but maybe I’m getting closer-Maybe not, actually…”

“What do you mean? What did your phone say?”

“I’m super not allowed to tell you details of an ongoing case.”

“That’s so not fair! I was the one who told you about it in the first place!”

“I can’t…”

“Come on, Blackout. I can help…”

Grace gave Blackout the pouting puppy treatment. Her eyes were too much, and he broke. His clean record-the only commendable thing about him, according to Silverfist-was offered up on Grace’s alter.

“Ok, so Ramiro said his security camera glitched when the guy broke in, but I ran the footage through the Guild’s forensics app for analysis-”

“Whoah! You guys just have that??”

“You can’t tell anyone about that!”

“I won’t! I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Are you?” Blackout stared at Grace skeptically.

“I’ll keep this one. I swear.”

Blackout dropped his head into his hand.

“Oh God. This was a mistake.”

“I promise! I won’t tell anyone anything! Just keep going!”

Blackout didn’t answer. He just kept his head in his hands. A violation like this would annihilate his spotless record. Grace took Blackout’s hand in hers, and pulled it away from his face, locking her eyes on his.

“This’ll stay between me and you. It’ll be a me and you thing. Nobody else. Just us,” Grace’s tone was gentle, but serious and firm.

Grace had to know she wasn’t playing fair. Blackout’s better judgment didn’t stand a chance.

“So you ran the video through the thingy, and what did it say?”

Blackout sighed, defeated.

“Deliberate External Interference.”

“So the feed got screwed up because the robber has powers??”

“Maybe powers. Maybe some sort of disruptive device.”

“But that means a villain right? Not just a regular robber?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Not for Ramiro.”

“Right. How are you going to find the guy?”

“That’s the thing…I have no idea what the next step is. This guy hit electronics stores all over the Heights. No witnesses. No video. All I know is the guy’s a villain. This just confirms a suspicion I already had. It doesn’t get me any closer to finding him. I don’t have any way of narrowing it down more.”

“Maybe Deut saw something. He always knows everyone’s business.”

The suggestion gave Blackout pause. Deut-short for Deuteronomy, presumably-was a homeless man who always seemed to be around. He was gregarious and affable, but Blackout had always sensed a sort of edge behind it all.

“That’s actually a great idea.”

“See! I told you I could help! You should make me your sidekick!”

“Oh yeah? What would your hero name be?” Blackout chuckled.

“Uh…Suggestion Girl! I’ll tell you how you should fight crime, and you’ll go do it just like I said.”

“Uh-huh. And what would your superpower be?”

“Super…Good Advice.”

The two laughed together. Grace convinced Chinh and Mai to go to bed and let her finish the chores. She and Blackout cleaned and broke down the store together. The entire time, they bounced around the craziest ideas they could think of who the culprit could be, imagining up fanciful scenarios in which Blackout saved the whole city from a super villain, and Grace was instrumental in helping Blackout save the whole city from said super villain. By the end of the night, Blackout was totally out of steam, nodding off. Grace wanted to keep going. Blackout cursed himself for lacking the strength to go on. When Grace said goodnight, it was clear her enjoyment of their time together had more than matched his. It was astounding to Blackout that he could inspire such affinity in another person, let alone someone as cool as Grace.

As he walked home, Blackout kept his eyes out for Old Deut. It figured that the one time Blackout was actually looking for him, he was nowhere to be found. It hardly mattered. Improbably, Blackout’s worst day had ended in his best night. He was left intoxicated off of having such a great time with the only girl in the world who mattered to him. Deep inside, he was infected with the impossible dream that if he could perhaps string together enough nights like this, that maybe, just maybe, he’d have the smallest crack of a chance with Grace Phan.