Into the Shadows

Troy's eyes snapped open.

For a moment, everything was a blur—the soft hum of machines, the scent of antiseptic, the cool metal beneath him. He flinched, feeling a dull pain in his side. His fingers instinctively grazed the bandages wrapped around his torso.

He was in a dimly lit room, lying on a sleek medical bed, wires and monitors tracking his vitals. His mask was gone.

His heart nearly stopped.

"Oh no. My secret identity—!"

He jerked upright, eyes darting around the room. It was massive—no, gigantic—and unlike anything he had ever seen. The ceiling stretched high, lined with steel beams and overhead lights that cast a cold, bluish glow. Rows of high-tech computers lined the walls, massive monitors displaying maps, security footage, and classified-looking files. There were weapon racks, training dummies, and even what looked like a sparring ring in the distance.

This place wasn't just a hideout.

It was an underground facility.

A lair.

And from the looks of it, it had to have cost millions.

"Where the hell am I…?"

Before he could even process, a deep voice cut through the silence.

"Relax, kid. You're not in danger."

Troy turned toward the sound—and his breath hitched.

Standing at the edge of the room was a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the same black tactical suit Shadow had worn in the alley. But this time, there was no mask.

His face was fully visible.

His features were sharp, rugged—marked with scars that ran across his jaw and forehead like old battle wounds. His short black hair was slightly messy, and his piercing blue eyes held a weight, an intensity that made Troy uneasy.

This was Shadow.

The man calmly spoke "My name is Jace."

No… this was Jace.

Jace folded his arms, tilting his head slightly. "So. You got a name, or should I just keep calling you 'Bubble Boy'?"

Troy swallowed, still shaken. "T-Troy."

Jace nodded. "Troy, huh? Alright." He leaned against the nearest console, arms still crossed. "You were out for a few hours. Stitched you up myself. You're lucky—Gladiator's blade didn't hit anything vital. But you still lost a good amount of blood. You feeling alright?"

Troy hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah… I think so."

His eyes drifted back to his exposed face. "Why'd you take my mask off?"

Jace scoffed. "You were bleeding out. Figured breathing was more important than keeping your secret."

Troy grimaced. Fair point.

But that didn't mean he wasn't still freaking out inside.

Jace seemed to sense it. He exhaled and leaned forward slightly. "Look. I'm not gonna go running around telling people who you are. Your identity's safe."

Troy studied him. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Jace met his gaze, unflinching. "Because if I wanted to ruin you, I'd have done it already."

Troy swallowed. Hard to argue with that.

Jace pushed off the console, walking closer. "Now, you mind telling me why the hell you were out there playing hero?"

Troy hesitated.

Then he exhaled.

"...It's a long story."

Jace gestured to a nearby chair. "We've got time."

Troy sat up properly, wincing at the pain in his side, before meeting Jace's gaze. "...It started with StarMan."

Jace's eyes narrowed slightly. "Go on."

Troy's fists clenched. "A few weeks ago… I was walking home from school when I saw someone getting mugged in a alley. Nothing crazy—just someone being mugged. The person was scared, but the greatest hero showed up fast. StarMan."

Jace nodded, waiting.

Troy's voice hardened. "The person getting mugged got away. But then, I saw something. The criminal… he tried to surrender. he dropped his weapon. He was scared."

Jace stayed silent.

Troy's jaw tightened. "But StarMan didn't stop. He—he kept going. I watched him kill the criminal."

Jace's expression remained unreadable, but something dark flickered in his gaze.

Troy took a shaky breath. "That was the moment I realized… heroes aren't what they say they are. They act like they're protecting people, but they're just as bad as the criminals sometimes. Maybe worse."

Jace finally spoke. "...So you decided to take matters into your own hands."

Troy nodded. "Someone has to. The heroes get away with everything. But vigilantes—guys like you— hold them accountable but I plan on becoming a true hero, a hero that saves everyone."

Jace studied him for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. "...You're a dumb kid, you know that?"

Troy frowned. "What?"

Jace shook his head. "You go out there with zero training, no real combat experience, thinking your bubbles are enough to take on people who've been fighting their whole lives. You nearly got yourself killed tonight."

Troy looked down, gritting his teeth. "...I know."

Jace watched him. "But you're not gonna stop, are you?"

Troy's hands clenched into fists. "...No."

Jace sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You remind me of someone."

Troy raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Jace didn't answer.

Instead, he stepped forward and folded his arms again.

"Alright, kid. Here's the deal."

Troy blinked. "Huh?"

Jace's expression turned serious. "I can see it in your eyes. No matter how many times you get your ass kicked, you're just gonna keep getting back up. So if you're gonna keep playing vigilante, you need to be better."

Troy frowned. "I—"

"I'm offering to train you," Jace interrupted. "Properly."

Troy's eyes widened.

Jace continued. "You need to learn how to fight. How to think strategically. How to survive. Because next time? You might not get lucky."

Troy stared at him.

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Well? What's it gonna be?"

Troy swallowed. He thought about everything that had happened. Gladiator. StarMan. The fear he felt when she cut through his bubble shield like it was nothing.

If he had been alone tonight, he'd be dead.

Slowly, he looked up.

"...Alright."

Jace smirked. "Good."

Then his expression hardened.

"Training starts tomorrow. And trust me, kid—you're not gonna like it."