Although the military had sealed off the news that Iron Man and Captain America were dead, the tension of an approaching storm still swept through all of New York. Even ordinary people, kept in the dark and utterly unaware, could sense some kind of sign as they looked at New York's gloomy sky.
At the New Warriors' base, Night Thrasher was organizing weapons while Microbe stood beside him, frowning. "You really plan to go out? Don't forget, the people attacking us have been searching for our trail."
Microbe sighed. "Last time, I only went out to buy something, and a Daily Bugle reporter spotted me. My photo was spread everywhere, my real identity was exposed, and my family, friends, and teachers all called to ask me about it. But I couldn't answer them..."
Microbe closed his eyes in pain. "For the past few days, I've been having nightmares. I believe you have too. If you go out now, things won't get better. We might suffer even more attacks..."
Night Thrasher kept wiping down his arrows. "But we have to act. Don't forget why the New Warriors were formed. We weren't created to appear on television. We're not actors putting on a show!"
"Now Spider-Man is dead, Captain America is gone, and Iron Man isn't in New York either. The disappearance of those three superheroes has shattered too many people's confidence. They think they can't deal with those supervillains."
"We can't count on the police. New York's police officers are ordinary people too. Even if they have decent firepower, how can they fight supervillains like Nitro or Coldheart? That isn't what they should be doing. They don't have that ability, so they don't bear that responsibility."
Night Thrasher looked at Microbe. "But we do. So we have to do this."
"If