The internet crackled with speculation. Hero forums buzzed with threads dissecting your surprise takedown of Volt. Gone were the days of radio silence. Now, grainy security footage of your silver form apprehending the villain flooded the web. News outlets clamored for interviews, their headlines screaming "UA Prodigy Returns as Mysterious Hero!"
But fame wasn't your game. You politely declined interview requests, your voice a firm but courteous echo through phone lines. "I'm not here for the glory," you'd say, "just doing my part."
The public, however, was captivated. The story of the ostracized prodigy turned silent guardian resonated with a city weary of flashy heroes picking and choosing their battles. People started recognizing you on the streets, not as the mysterious hero, but as Artemis – the UA prodigy who'd fallen from grace.
Whispers started. "Isn't that...?" someone would murmur, pointing at your silver form as you helped a lost child reunite with their parents. The child, oblivious, would simply thank you with a gap-toothed grin.
The whispers grew louder, morphing into questions. "What happened?" "Why isn't she with the big agencies?" You ignored them, focusing on the task at hand – rescuing a stray cat from a precarious perch on a fire escape, calming a panicking witness during a mugging. These were your victories, small acts of heroism that painted the city with a quiet sense of security.
One evening, as you disarmed a group of petty thieves planning to hit a local convenience store, a familiar voice rang out.
"Artemis?"
You turned to see a reporter from a local news channel, the one you'd spoken to after saving the woman from the bridge. "You again," you sighed, a wary smile playing on your lips.
"There's no denying it's you," she said, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "People want to know your story. Why the secrecy? Why not join a proper agency?"
You considered her words for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to set the record straight. "It's not about secrecy," you said finally. "The agencies... well, they weren't exactly a good fit."
Raising your voice slightly, you continued, speaking not just to the reporter but to the city at large. "Being a hero isn't about flashy costumes or leaderboards. It's about helping people, all people, not just the ones with the most media attention."
The reporter nodded, her expression thoughtful. "So you're... the hero for the forgotten corners?"
A genuine smile bloomed on your face. "Something like that," you replied. "And that's a title I wear with pride."
The interview that followed wasn't about your past failures or your reasons for rejecting the hero agencies. It was about your present, about the unsung heroes who patrolled the city's underbelly, ensuring the safety of those often overlooked.
The next day, a new wave of headlines washed over the city. "UA Prodigy Returns as the Hero the Forgotten Corners Need!" they declared. You weren't the hero plastered across billboards, but you were a hero nonetheless. A symbol that even those cast aside could rise, forging their own path and making a difference, one quiet act of heroism at a time. And as you patrolled the city that night, the weight of newfound respect settled on your shoulders, a comforting reminder that you weren't alone. You were Artemis, the hero of the forgotten corners, and the city, finally, was starting to remember.
