Looking Glass (Darkest Secrets Volume 2)

Part 2 - Sides of the Coin

The smell of mildew in the abandoned Old Munich subway tunnels reminded Falco of childhood.

He'd been too young to have true memories, but he had fragments. Precious glimpses of moments with his family, huddled together for warmth in the ever-after comforting darkness.

 When Fatima had taken them in, Athena - Falco's mother - had lied about where the family had been staying, to avoid scaring the woman, because this place was infamous. 

Most of the urban myths the children of Munich told each other about the tunnels were true. They did well to stay away from the passages to the Underground.

The utter blackness had never bothered Falco. As a teen, he'd stalked these tunnels on a regular basis. Criminals always thought the dark could stop a speedster - and they were right, but Falco had learned this maze like the back of his hand. He took his time reaching the exit door closest to the news station, enjoying the feeling of being back in his old stomping ground. In this place, his speedster career had bloomed.

Before joining a vigilante team that operated out of Turkey, he'd been called the Windgott - or Wind God in old German. Once people recognized there was a speedster lurking in the inky shadows, they began to pick up his comings and goings by the wind he displaced. That's what made him learn to phase through things in the first place. It was always easier to catch someone if they couldn't even hear you coming.

After the adrenaline and grief wore off, Falco realized he'd jumped the gun. The program was supposed to run for at least another hour. It would be stupidly scandalous to show up mid-set. So, in the meantime, he had another personal errand to run.

He couldn't shake the thought that Fatima was probably catching everyone on Earth up to speed on his past, and maybe whatever things she'd done to try and find him. If Fatima managed to link his legal name to the vigilante Windgott, the republic would trace it back to Falco - the recently discharged Sentinel.

He suppressed a nauseous heave - and failed.

Puking inside a wall wasn't the way he pictured spending the morning, but once he phased out into the next tunnel, there wasn't any mess left to clean. At least it was better than sulking around in the spire. He chuckled and listened intently to the ghostly echoes floating through the darkness, wondering if his old friend had moved on.

Then came the soft hum of a muted song and a rhythmic tapping that told him he was in the right place. Pushing the worry of getting sucked into any more backward political scandals aside, he forced a smile onto his face and walked ahead, through a soft, lopsided curtain that set bells jingling as his face brushed by.

The thumping stopped, and the sound of feet tensely standing followed.

"...(Click)" Came a vocalization. Suddenly the air filled with mistrust and bloodthirst.

Falco's soul and smile filled in with genuine happiness. "Bavaros."

The bloodthirst ebbed away, and after a shuffle or two, Falco felt two thin arms wrap around his shoulders. "I've been listening in on the news. How do you feel?"

Falco shrugged into the man's embrace.

"That bad, huh? Well, I won't pry into your mind. You think too fast anyway; it gives me a headache."

There was too much to say, and Falco had somewhere to be. It wasn't like he was sweeping his emotional work under the rug or anything... right? Fuck it, he'd get over shit when he got over shit. "I got your text last week. Sorry it took me so long to get out here. The Sentinels falling apart was a shitshow, y'know?"

Bavaros pressed his head against Falco's chest. The old man was two heads shorter than the speedster now. How different things had been when the ancient telepath had found a weeping, snot-covered child curled up in the dark. "It's alright, my boy. I heard the Republic came down hard on you."