Steve leans against the pier, letting old memories resurface.
"Great view," a man approaches, nodding toward the endless city beyond.
"It is," he agrees. "Steve," he holds out his hand. The stranger shakes it and chuckles.
"Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Rogers. Don't think there's many who don't. So… need to talk about it?"
Steve gives him a questioning look.
"I know that look. Worn it enough myself. You've lost everything you've ever known. Even if you're making your new place in the world, that weighs on a person."
"Suppose so."
"Wish you could go back? Home, I mean."
Steve thinks for a moment.
"This world is different. People here are different but not enough. Going back isn't an option. Never was, but still… I don't think I'd be the same person, even if I could. I got people who need me here, now, and a world that still needs saving. It's not always easy but… it is home. Somehow."
"I understand. The world needs heroes. You stepped up."
"Someone always has to. For better or worse."
"I agree," the man says, a wistful, faraway look in his eyes.
"I didn't get your name, friend."
"Clark. Clark Kent."