Hawkgirl landed on a rooftop in central Midway City and closed her eyes. The Fadeaway Man may have stolen her mace during the panic yesterday, but he forgot to consider she had the ability to recall it. His first and biggest mistake. Due to its nth metal composition, the weapon and Shayera have formed a psychic connection with each other, giving her the ability to recall her mace to her hand within a mile radius. She could sense it. Her mace was close by.
Northwest, maybe half a mile. She launched in that direction, flying slowly. Tracking their connection like a thread in the wind.
She was closer now, a quarter mile. A residential district, with a row of apartment buildings. She circled the area, the signal growing stronger and weaker. There. The third building, straight ahead of her, in the upper floors.
Shayera descended to street level, landing in the alley. She folded her wings, trying not to draw attention. To blend in with everyone else. The mace was definitely in that building.
Her connection with her mace gave her the advantage he had no idea existed. He had gotten too cocky, like every other criminal who had a streak of success. She raised her hand and recalled her mace.
Anton was sat in his apartment, examining the mace. The Thanagarian craftmanship was simply exquisite. This wasn't just a weapon. It was a cultural artefact.
Hawkgirl had used such a thing to hit people. It was a waste and disrespectful to its beauty. He'd placed it on a display stand, next to the armour stand that held Hawkgirl's helmet.
It looked perfect. Properly cared for and appreciated. Finally, given the respect it deserved. The mace moved. Anton blinked and stared.
The mace lifted off its stand and started to hover, orientating itself to face the window.
"What..."
It shot forward, crashing through the window in an explosion of glass, and flew out into the sky. Anton rushed to the window and looked out.
There she was. Hawkgirl was hovering three hundred feet away, her hand extended and the mace returning to her grip. Their eyes met.
She knew. She knew where he was. She knew who he was. She knew he was The Fadeaway Man. His perfect record and anonymity were shattered, just like his window.
The familiar weight settled into her palm. She didn't look at her required possession. Her eyes focused only on the man standing by the broken window.
The Fadeaway Man.
She flew towards the building, fast. He ran from the broken window, but she didn't slow down as she crashed through into his apartment. She landed in the middle of his collection. Billions of dollars' worth of stolen art and artefacts surrounded her.
There on the stand she saw her helmet, sitting there like a mere decoration.
"You son of a bitch!" she yelled out.
Anton grabbed the cloak from its rightful place, swinging it over him and vanishing. Shayera spun around, looking for him.
"You led yourself here. The mace. You can recall it, a variable I didn't account for," his voice came out, somewhere in his apartment.
"You're done hiding. I know where you live. I know who you are. Do you think you escape us forever? Eventually you'll let your guard down, just like when you stole my mace," Hawkgirl replied, gripping her mace harder.
"True. But all this is just a minor setback. I just need to relocate and start again. Unfortunate, yes. I liked this apartment," he answered, appearing across the room, near the entrance.
"You're not leaving."
Hawkgirl charged, her mace swinging through nothing but air.
"Always the simple approach. You never learn, do you? You can't fight..." Anton spoke.
"What isn't always there! I know," Shayera cut him off, throwing her mace, instead of at Anton, the artefacts he kept.
"You moron! Do you have any idea of their value? Their beauty! You winged buffoon! Your wings will make a fine repayment for your idiocy," Anton raged, appearing behind her.
Shayera spun around, her wings knocking a knife out of Anton's grip and horrified eyes. In a mere second she tackled Anton through the wall, finally feeling the fabric of his cloak in her hands. Before she could pin him to the ground, he reappeared at the broken window.
"Congratulations. You destroyed such beauty just to get a touch of me, but even then you couldn't catch me!" Anton called out to her.
Anton teleported away. But that didn't matter to Shayera. She had his apartment now, full of his collection of stolen goods, and his identity now revealed. Anton Lamont. Got you.
Anton landed in an alley three miles away. His hands were shaking and he was breathing in short gasps. A mix of exertion and fear.
Hawkgirl now knew who he was. Where he lived and his collection. His anonymity as The Fadeaway Man is simply gone, just like that. All because he got too greedy and took her mace and forgot to consider she could recall it. An amateur mistake.
Now the police would be constantly searching for him. Maybe even the Justice League. They'd put him in prison with common criminals who held no appreciation for what he was doing.
Now all of it was gone. Anton pulled at his cloak, holding it in his shaking hands. The cloak made him special. It gave him the power to possess beauty.
Without it, he was nothing. Just a failing academic, unable to possess the wonders of this world. He needed to run. Leave the city, maybe even the country. Somewhere they couldn't find him.
Anton sat in the alley, trying not to panic. He didn't have much time left. He needed to act fast. Hawkgirl had destroyed such magnificent beauty in front of him. He couldn't let her get away with such violence. Then he decided. He would make up for her crimes by taking her wings. Her beautiful wings.
Sophist was sat in his apartment, watching the footage of Anton's and Hawkgirl's scuffle. He figured out who The Fadeaway Man was, but he didn't expect Hawkgirl to find him too, this fast.
He decided to let Anton continue his work for a while. A test for Hawkgirl. The question was what to do with him when the test was finished. He didn't have control over him like he did Satanna or Cay'an. He was a variable he didn't count for.
He looked to his desk. Looked at the gun. He'd only used it on Satanna's army when he encountered them for the first time. Non-lethal.
In his life as the author Mike Hayes, he never killed anyone. He never even shot a gun until his life as Sophist. He continued to stare at it. Could he do it? Kill a man for the first time.
Sophist picked up the gun and placed it in his drawer, away from his sight. For now.
Soon the time for decision would come. For now, however, he simply watched.