Vance - 3.3

If I were found unscathed amidst the chaos and destruction of today's catastrophic events, the authorities would undoubtedly detain me out of sheer suspicion. The scenario was almost cinematic: a government building brutally attacked by a group of exceedingly violent individuals, everyone inside executed, and the architecture itself reduced to rubble, yet amidst this devastation, there remained one man, remarkably unharmed while the other two survivors were both in his immediate care and visibly injured. In such cases, this man would almost certainly be regarded as either an operative or a critical person of interest linked to the terror cell so remaining undiscovered was paramount.

With urgency propelling me, I ran. I ran. I ran. My legs pressing relentlessly along the subway line until an emergency exit sign offered a route to potential safety in the city above. Ascending the stairs and bursting through the hatch, I found myself several blocks away from the obliterated courthouse.

The distant sound of sirens pierced the air as a Bluff City News helicopter circled ominously above, likely capturing footage of the smoldering wreckage and frantic emergency response efforts. In a moment of desperation and disregard for my finely tailor suit, I stripped off my coat and tied the blazer around my torso to conceal the bullet holes riddling my back. Sorry, Jim.

After an endless jog of mental fatigue, stress, and physical battering, exhaustion finally overcame me. I collapsed onto my bed. The events forced me to confront a truth I had denied: I was no longer merely human. The exceptional strength and stamina I exhibited could have been attributed to post-traumatic adrenaline or perhaps a side effect of medication from the hospital, but deep down, I knew these explanations fell short. The doctor's words echoed in my mind: I was not normal. I possessed enhanced strength and constitution. Overcome by the sheer weight of my new reality, I fainted.

When consciousness returned, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled my apartment. Groggily, I stumbled out of bed and changed into sweats. As I moved, a chilling thought froze me in place—the coffee. I hadn't made it; I had been asleep. Adrenaline and cortisol surged through my body as I cautiously approached the kitchen.

Silently, I edged along the hallway towards the source of the aroma, my mind racing with possibilities. Who could be in my penthouse? Why would they brew coffee? Was police here having connected me to the events at the courthouse? If I am arrested for terrorism, I will be disbarred!

Peering around the corner, flat against the wall, I spotted a figure seated on my sofa, casually sipping espresso from my second favorite mug.

"Richard Vance, I presume," the intruder declared calmly, his voice steady and devoid of any threat. "Please, do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm."

As he stood and turned to face me, his attire—a black fedora, a deep crimson trench coat, a yellow domino mask—triggered a flash of recognition.

"Detective Marvel?" I blurted out, floored with astonishment. The figure before me was none other than the iconic detective who had fought alongside Heliox.

He nodded, a faint smile breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor.

"Indeed, it's I," Detective Marvel replied.

His presence in my apartment, while initially alarming, now intriguing. Almost certainly his interests are connected to the Twilight Masks attack or my recent development of superhuman abilities.

"Detective Marvel, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I managed, my voice steadying as I adjusted to the shock. 

Detective Marvel set down the espresso cup on the coffee table with a soft clink, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity trying to pour into my soul and ascertain all of my hidden information. "Richard, you've found yourself entangled in a situation that goes beyond your skills as a trial attorney. The incident at the courthouse, your miraculous survival, and your... abilities have not gone unnoticed."

"Did you fly in after the incident this afternoon?" I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "I assure you, Marvel, I have no affiliations with those terrorists. I was merely..."

Marvel raised his hand to gently cut me off. "I'm not here to accuse you, Richard. On the contrary, I believe that the attack in the subway the other day actually marked the beginning to the next saga in your life." Marvel continued, "The attack might have been a catalyst, something that triggered your genetic potential. Your medical records- the recovery from burns that should have taken weeks... You survived a situation this afternoon that would have been fatal to any normal man, and you walked away without a scratch."

Marvel tossed toward me a cyan cube slightly larger than a softball. I stepped fully from around the wall into the kitchen and caught the item with my right hand. The cube is mostly smooth, save a few blemishes. I continued to fidget with the thing as Marvel talked.

"I think you have super-durability, super-strength, and super-healing. You outclass my unaugmented capabilities in those areas. We could test your limits to know what situations you can shrug off scaling to which ones can shrug you off."

I did not really believe him. This man has stopped global-scale disasters. He has worked alongside Earth's best protectors. 

Marvel pounded his chest, creating a metallic twang that pierced my ears. 

"I wear this suit to amplify my physique and protect my body. That cube is actually made from the same material as my suit." He continued, "The cyan is a sealant, but the interior of that is a cube of osmium. Most men cannot toss 100 pounds around like a toy. The people here need a hero. You need a costume and trainer. Just call."

This time, he tossed over a deep crimson mobile phone.

"I need to think about this," I said, the decision weighing heavily on me. "This is a lot to take in all at once."

"Of course, take all the time you need," Detective Marvel replied, standing and retrieving his hat from the table. "But don't take too long. The city needs people like you, Richard. People who can make a difference. Keep the cube."

As he left, the silence of my apartment felt more profound than ever. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, a reminder of the monumental decision that lay before me.