I am not totally sure where to start. I mean, you only live once, right? How do you summarize your entire life for someone who does not know you, for someone who isn't supposed to know you? Believe it or not, we do wear masks for a reason.

Hank did not believe me when I told him that. He laughed at me – like he always did – and brushed it aside. We don't need a secret identity, he says with a careless wave of his hand. I was amazed that he had the willpower to pry a hand from the controller. What we need is ourselves. That's it. He snapped his eyes over to me for a split second before returning to his GameSphere.

I wish it were true.

But its not like we could figure out our costumes; honestly speaking, I never really cracked the code to it all. I just learned to get the juices going and how to stop it. Blue spandex isn't awful, but it is spandex. That stuff is hard to pry free when running for your life – or for the life of someone else.

Flying was another thing. I was so self-cautious. Hank would never admit to it, but I think he was too. He never admitted to any sign of weakness. Weakness, he concluded, was like a mask. Weakness is nothing but a wall to hide behind, and I ain't building that wall up to cower. It wont rise if you don't let it.

Easier said than done, especially with a body like his. He was shaped – designed, really – by the hands of Greek gods. I never said that out loud of course, but I did express my irritation at being not as well built as him. Who would not want to look like a ripped Ken doll after all?

Please do not say that to his face. If you learn anything from this, it is that you simply cannot walk away from Hank after insulting him. Do not talk to him to begin with - he is hostile, arrogant, rude, and fierce. I guess it all happens for a reason, but that does not mean we get to walk around like nothing happened.

Because something did happen… something always happens in life. You may not notice it – the slight smile, the sagging eyelids, the creeping tear – but just because you can't see it doesn't mean its not there.

Like right now.


Like most siblings, Don and I always had our differences – he was weak. I wasn't. He was a pushover, I was the one pushing.

And you know what? I never would have said it out loud, but I really loved the hell out of him for that. He was weak and dumb, sometimes even a drag to bring around, but he was my brother. I can't remember a time when we weren't at ends with each other or a day where we didn't laugh the night away as siblings did.

That little blond rat. I swear to god I will pluck the eyebrows straight off any mugger who thinks they can take my little bro from me.

I promise.

+

Author's Note:

The material ahead is not necessarily inappropriate, but it will carry minor language as well as a little bit more of a realistic take on duties of being a hero. Notices will be pasted above chapters, warning if there is any material that may offend the moral of a reader.