The Midway City museum was closed for the week, following another heist performed by the thief, who became known as the Fadeaway Man. Hawkgirl stood at the crime scene, studying the now-empty display case.
She walked around the case, her wings folded tight. The glass was intact, with no visible cracks or signs of stress. The lock showed no sign of tampering, and yet the cylinder was still missing.
"Security footage?" she asked.
"That's the strange part. The camera shows...nothing. The case was there one frame, and the next, it was gone. No one enters, and the cameras are undisturbed. No tampering," replied Patterson, the museum director.
"Motion detectors?" Hawkgirl asked, tilting her head to get a better look at them.
"Never triggered."
She crouched and started to examine the floor around the case, looking for anything with her hawk-like vision. Nothing. It was like they were never here in the first place.
"This is the third theft this month. All artefacts or pieces of art. All from different institutions. The police think it's all the same person, but we can't figure it out. We suspect a metahuman," Patterson said.
"The Fadeaway Man."
"You've heard of him?" Patterson asked.
"I've been keeping track in case he ever comes to Midway. Seventeen confirmed thefts across five different museums in three months. No forensic evidence was left behind, and all during the night," she replied.
"Do you think you can catch him?" Patterson asked, hopefully.
Hawkgirl didn't answer right away. She was thinking. She thought about the meta abilities required to do something like this. The chances of someone having invisibility and intangibility were unlikely but possible.
"I'm going to try," she said finally.
Hawkgirl was sitting at a table in the watchtower, crime scene photos spread out across the table. Batman appeared behind her without any warning.
"The Fadeaway Man," he said.
"You're tracking him too?" she replied.
"Every major theft gets flagged. This one is interesting. No evidence left behind. Whoever this is has access to advanced technology or uses magic. Highly improbable to be a metahuman," he replied, pulling up a holographic display with additional data.
"Has to be magic? Surely this advanced tech would leave even a trace of a power signature. Also, if you're rich enough to afford tech like that, you would just buy it if you wanted it, right?" Hawkgirl replied.
"Agreed."
"This has to be someone small. New," Hawkgirl said.
"Obsessive collector. The pattern shows escalation. He started with smaller thefts, and after he built up confidence, he got bolder," Batman answered.
"Thanks for the help," Hawkgirl said.
"We can work this one together if you want," Batman suggested.
"It's fine. Gotham is already making your plate full. Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to become a better detective myself, with Sophist being a pain in my ass again. God knows what he's going to make me do next," she replied.
"Suit yourself."
"By the way, how's Night...he's already gone," Hawkgirl said, turning around to see no one in the room with her.
She made her way back to her apartment and stretched her aching body. She placed her equipment in its designated spots and made her way to the shower. She stayed there for around twenty minutes before turning it off. She placed a towel over her toned body and another one around her hair. She walked into her bedroom and changed into her nightwear, turning on the TV.
She decided to head to the kitchen and grab a beer. She put on her slippers and headed out. She opened her fridge and took out two bottles, placed them in one hand and closed the door. She turned around and noticed her helmet was no longer there.
She recalled her mace. It thumped against her palm and went into an offensive stance. "Put it back!"
She couldn't see a thing, but she knew he was still here. A warrior's instinct. At first, there was no reply.
"I didn't expect you quite this quickly, Hawkgirl," the voice said.
"The helmet. Down. Now," she commanded.
"It's remarkable, you know. Nth metal and crafted by a famous Thangarian blacksmith, Fel Andar. You can tell because he leaves a small symbol on all his work, an F inside an A. Centuries ahead of human advancement, and you just...abuse it for your petty squabbles," Anton answered. The helmet now appeared and seemed to be floating.
"Last warning!" Hawkgirl demanded, moving forward.
"I appreciate such craftsmanship. I understand their beauty and value. I know how to properly care for this work of art, while you just let it get battered and bruised while you play warrior," Anton continued.
"Wrong answer," Hawkgirl answered before she swung.
Hawkgirl's mace passed through empty air. Unknown to her, her mace simply moved through him like smoke. Hawkgirl then swept low, trying to catch his legs. He simply let it pass him.
"You can't fight what isn't there," he said calmly.
Hawkgirl spread her wings and spun, trying to at least graze him, just to see where he was. He teleported, appearing by the balcony, untouched.
"Fascinating. To see Thangarian wings in the flesh, up so close, is truly an honour. It's a shame, really. Their beauty seems so wasted on you," Anton said, studying her wings.
Hawkgirl threw her mace towards the voice and watched it fly out the balcony, making no contact before she recalled it back. He didn't even flinch, just watched it go through him.
"You do realise this is pointless, right? Not only can you not see me, but you can't even hit me. Though it seems like you still haven't realised that fact yet," Anton mocked before revealing himself to her, the cloak masking his face entirely. "Go on. Throw your mace again."
Hawkgirl glared at him. She took him up on that offer, throwing her mace again. She watched as it passed through him, and again when she recalled it.
"See. You can't touch me. Though I must say you are quite disappointing. I'd hoped for more from someone trusted with such masterpieces," Anton told her. "Thank you for the addition to my collection. It will be properly cared for and appreciated, unlike here in your possession. I'll be back to collect the others in due time. Your wings seem like a good way to complete my collection."
Hawkgirl charged, and in an instant, he vanished again, teleporting away.
Hawkgirl was now alone in her apartment, mace gripped tight. He simply walked in and took her helmet, and she didn't even get to land a hit. A complete victory for him and a total failure for her.
Shayera walked to her balcony and looked towards the city. "What a prick," she muttered.
Sophist looked at his screen, a recording of what happened in Hawkgirl's apartment playing, his eyes squinting in confusion. "Who the fuck is that guy?"