Halloween arrived quietly.
Which, given the city's history, was impressive.
---
Streets filled with lights again—orange, purple, ridiculous neon skeletons taped to lampposts that had once held evacuation notices. Children ran between houses with pillowcases instead of emergency kits. Someone had hung a banner that read STILL ALIVE, STILL SPOOKY and no one argued with it.
Normalcy, tentative but determined, wore a costume.
---
Malachai stood in line at a neighborhood block party wearing… a suit.
Not his usual one.
This one had a cape.
The cape was plastic. Cheap. Lined with glitter that refused to come off no matter how carefully he brushed it.
Kyle stared at him in awe. "You're Dracula."
"Yes," Malachai said solemnly. "Apparently I 'had the face for it.'"
"You didn't argue?"
"I was informed that arguing would 'ruin the vibe.'"
Kyle nodded. "Correct."
---
Vale arrived five minutes later dressed as—confusingly—a civilian.
Jeans. Jacket. No insignia.
Malachai noticed immediately.
"You are not in costume," he observed.
Vale smirked. "Wrong. I'm dressed as 'off-duty hero trying to enjoy herself.' Very rare."
He considered that. "Convincing."
She leaned closer. "You're shedding glitter."
"Yes. I am adapting."
---
A girl walked beside Malachai, proudly wearing an elaborate homemade Angel of the Void costume.
Twelve cardboard wings. Glow paint. A broken halo made from a bent wire hanger.
Several adults did double takes.
One whispered, "That's… bold."
Another murmured, "Is that allowed?"
Malachai cleared his throat. "She insisted on historical accuracy."
The girl grinned. "I got extra glitter."
Vale bit her lip to keep from laughing.
To anyone watching, it looked like the Dark Lord was reluctantly escorting a neighborhood kid for Halloween.
No one asked questions.
Some things were safer not examined too closely.
---
An older woman in an extravagant dragon-themed gown moved through the crowd with regal authority, loudly critiquing costumes.
"Your stitching is uneven."
"That skeleton lacks menace."
"Oh, excellent use of fire-retardant fabric."
People assumed she was a very committed cosplayer.
Malachai did not contradict this assumption.
---
Across the city, Nyxara leaned dramatically against a balcony railing in full villain regalia—chains glowing, fire carefully tuned to festive instead of lethal.
Solin stood beside her wearing a surprisingly good knight costume.
"You didn't have to match," he said.
Nyxara gasped. "Of course I did. If I'm a villainess, you're my gallant opposition."
He blushed. "This is a lot of attention."
She kissed his cheek. "You earned it."
Below them, kids pointed up.
"Is she scary?" one asked.
Nyxara waved enthusiastically.
"…She's cool," the kid decided.
---
Director Ilyra Chen attended exactly one Halloween event.
She wore a blazer and a name tag that read TIRED PROFESSIONAL.
Someone asked if it was ironic.
"No," Chen said. "It's aspirational."
She accepted a cup of cider, watched heroes hand out candy instead of citations, and sighed.
"At least tonight," she muttered, "the world is pretending we're fine."
---
Hex did not pretend.
Hex arrived wearing a lab coat covered in glow-in-the-dark equations, goggles modified to project tiny ghosts, and carrying a candy-distribution drone shaped like a pumpkin.
Verdant Sentinel stood beside them wearing a costume that appeared to be… themselves, but autumn-themed.
"Is that ethical?" Verdant asked as the drone dispensed candy flawlessly.
Hex shrugged. "It's festive."
The drone tripped once, apologized, and corrected itself.
Verdant smiled despite themselves.
---
Former henchmen trick-or-treated with their kids.
Former heroes volunteered as crossing guards.
Someone dressed as EVIL WITH ETHICS and won a costume contest without realizing why.
Malachai stared at the trophy.
"…I do not like that this is a category."
Vale grinned. "Too late."
---
As the night wore on, laughter replaced vigilance.
Stories replaced analysis.
For a few hours, the Angel of the Void was a costume.
Villains were neighbors.
Heroes were just people handing out candy.
Malachai stood beside Vale as fireworks popped harmlessly overhead, the girl beside him comparing candy hauls with strangers.
"This is strange," he said quietly.
Vale nodded. "Yeah."
"…I like it."
She bumped his shoulder. "Careful. That's how they get you."
He allowed himself a rare, genuine smile.
---
Later, as candy was traded and costumes came apart at the seams, the city glowed—not with fear, not with power—
But with the simple, defiant choice to celebrate anyway.
Tomorrow, the world would argue again.
Tonight, it wore masks and laughed.
And the Dark Lord of catastrophe walked a neighborhood street escorting a child in cardboard wings—
Just another adult making sure someone got home safely.
Which, somehow, felt like the most radical costume of all.