Black — Superhero Skin

But Marcus was born in this darkness. He was the darkness.

Kaela’s voice returned. "Clean sweep. No casualties. No footage. They're calling you a myth."

And as the first patrol car’s light swept across the bridge, there was no one there. Only the night. Only the black. superhero skin black

Only Ebon.

Not the streetlights— all light. A low-frequency emitter in his belt harmonized with the bridge's power grid, plunging a half-mile radius into absolute, primordial darkness. The Vipers screamed, firing blindly into the void. But Marcus was born in this darkness

"No," Marcus said, his white eyes the last thing Razor saw before unconsciousness. "I'm just a Black man who got tired of running."

He stepped off the ledge.

Not a shadow. The Shadow.

"Ebon," crackled the voice in his ear. It was Kaela, his handler. "The Vipers are moving the shipment through the Scythe Bridge. Twenty of them. You’re one man." "Clean sweep