2019.

Morning frost clung to the edges of the star-shaped reflecting pool in Titan City Justice Center courtyard, holding in place fallen leaves that stuck halfway-in, halfway-out of the water. Gracie bundled up in the black overcoat Stephen had provided her, wearing the suit that had been purchased for her courier job with Snyder-Finn.

Gracie passed through the double doors, where the acrid scent of years worth of hastily stubbed out cigarette butts still lingered, and joined the line of those waiting to pass through the security inspection. Attorneys with their suits and briefcases stood out among them, since, for the majority of those assembled, wearing their cleanest jeans was the most appropriate court attire they could muster. One gray-haired mother batted away her adult son’s hand when he reached to loosen the top of a collar buttoned up way higher than he was accustomed. The bickering couples who whispered accusations at each other could have been her parents. These were Gracie’s people — the shabby, the struggling, and the unsure. She may have left that world, but would it ever leave her?

Hancock was waiting for her inside. He had already been far more attentive than an overworked public defender could have offered. But Gracie had peace of mind that no attorney could not have given. She had the Crimson Wraith, and not just as her hero, but her mentor — someone who believed in her potential in ways she’d never imagined.

As she moved closer to the metal detectors, Gracie heard a laugh from the other side — Captain Villagrana chatting casually with a couple of TCPD officers. Gracie couldn’t help but stare, trying to reconcile the image in front of her with the girl she saw photographed as the Wily Wisp.

Then, Villagrana noticed Gracie’s gaze and strode her way. “So, today is the big day?” she asked.

“It sure is,” said Gracie. She heard the nervous excitement in her voice, just like Hancock did when he addressed her. Did he also know the Captain’s superhero secret?

“And how are you feeling?”

“A whole lot better than when you showed up at my door.”

“I imagine you must. You’ve found some good help since then.”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. Um…” How much could Gracie say in public? “Kevin took me for the tour of Finn Manor. Like, the whole tour…”

“Did he? And did you like what you saw?”

“A lot. I like it a lot.”

Captain Villagrana nodded. “I’m glad. You know, at some point, you should come over to the house for dinner.”

“Really?”

“Really. I am not much of a cook, but my wife is a goddess in the kitchen.”

“You have a wife?”

The captain’s eyes twinkled with warm amusement. “I’m a very lucky woman. Sometimes the right people arrive in your life exactly when you need them, yes?”

The words landed at the center of Gracie’s chest, unexpectedly hard and unexpectedly warm. “Yeah, you could say that, for sure. Dinner sounds awesome, thanks. And thanks for, like… you know… everything…”

“De nada, Miss Chapel. It’s good to see justice served.”

Villagrana went on to other business, and Gracie continued into the halls of the Justice Center. It held multiple courtrooms and government offices, places to pay fines, places to get copies of official documentation, and, somewhere hidden underneath, the holding cells that held Gracie not even two weeks ago.

Her courtroom had a waiting space with benches outside it, and she saw Bradley Hancock waiting for her there. “Good morning,” he said with a smile. “You ready for this?”

“I’ve got to be, right?”

“If not, you’ve got a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”

Gracie sat beside him and pulled out Nights of Justice. The book cover caught Hancock’s attention.

“Some good reading in there,” he said with a wink.

“Kinda developed an interest in local legends.”

“You don’t say?” Hancock looked back to his phone. “That one say anything about the Dingo? Zero Hour?”

“The Dingo? No, it only goes up to the late eighties.”

“Right, right…”

Gracie hadn’t heard anyone mention the Dingo. Another one of the Crimson Wraith’s adversaries? But just like how Hancock hadn’t wanted to know the details of her meeting with the Crimson Wraith, she suspected those were things he wouldn’t want to talk about, certainly not in the Titan City Justice Center. So, she returned to Chief Goodman’s recounting of the legacy that was now hers:

In his third decade of crime-fighting, the Crimson Wraith altered his costume, moving the skull from his mask to his chest, giving him the opportunity to smile and be seen smiling. 

It was a time for smiling. The Baby Boomer generation were coming of age, knowing only post-war prosperity and an optimism that would ultimately reject military conscription, racial segregation, and sexual inequality. But the decade began with smiles, and the Crimson Wraith smiled along with them. 

He came to us out of the shadows and into the brightness of day, captured in Kodachrome and broadcast on television, shaking hands with city officials and working directly with Titan City Police officers, like myself — such an innocent time. It is the great pity of innocence that its clutches cannot be escaped but with dreadful disillusionment.

Much has been conjectured about the book whose publication ended the public career of the Crimson Wraith, forcing him back into the shadows…

“Gracie! Gracie!”

She looked up to see Brianna hurrying her way, arms open wide. Brianna gave great hugs. Gracie stood and let herself get smothered in Brianna’s warmth. “Hey, thanks for coming,” she said into Brianna’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t miss it!”

Gracie pointed to Hancock, “Brianna, meet my attorney, Bradley Hancock.”

“So you’re the help our Gracie found!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, shaking her hand.

They all sat once more, and Brianna brought Gracie up-to-speed on Sprang & Sons. “You know Tales Resold over on Tate Street? They shut down! And Rich snapped up almost their entire stock. We’re sorting through that now, but he set it all out for customers who felt like digging through in the meantime, and you know who got into it?”

Gracie rolled her eyes, “Oh, Howard…”

“Exactly! He got damn near lost in that pile!”

Then Gracie got that feeling of someone looking at her, and saw Zack walking their way. An older man, who could have been Zack in maybe twenty-five years, walked at his side — Zack’s father, probably. While Zack’s courtroom clothing appeared newly purchased, his father’s carried the ghosts of a couple old stains that never quite scrubbed clean. 

The woman who walked beside them was dressed far more sharply. “That’s District Attorney Nicole Kim,” said Hancock. “Straight shooter. She thought his case was bullshit from the start. She’ll be glad to be done with him.”

“I know the feeling,” said Gracie. 

Then she saw Zack’s father notice her and mutter something angry to Zack. But Zack didn’t look up, didn’t risk eye contact. Gracie could read the fear clinging to him the way ice clings to a tree branch after a winter storm, making it stiff and fragile. 

No doubt the Crimson Wraith haunted him still. He’d been changed. Did Gracie dare hope that his change, like hers, might be for the better?