Chapter 1

Her fingers wrapped around the blanket placed upon her shoulders. They felt like weights, bearing down upon her as she thought. Mrs. Crackshell-Cabrera sat, staring at the ground. All she could think of was her son. The way time seemed to slow as the large television was falling and her son, her one and only son, leapt in front of her. Closing her eyes, she could see him reemerge from in the armor. How could she not have noticed? A suited wannabe hero blasting holes into a bank? Only Fenton could be that crazy and full of good intentions.

Lifting her head, there was a hand on her shoulder. One of the paramedics was checking on her. Handing over a small mug, the paramedic readjusted the blank and patted her on the back. As the paramedic left, a reporter came forward, notepad ready. An officer was by her side. Mrs. Cabrera recognized the officer. Bridget. A good woman. The reporter had already written a lot, probably based on the other witness testimonies.

The reporter spoke but all Mrs. Cabrera could hear was white noise. She opened her mouth to speak but found her voice didn't respond. It was like her whole system was shut down, trying to rationalize the situation. Fenton. Where was Fenton? Was he alive? Was he okay? Where was he? She closed her eyes, lowering her head. Bridget led the reporter away.

Mrs. Cabrera could hear the little boy from earlier giving a speech. Though he could hear his sentiment, she couldn't understand the words. White noise. Shell shock. She'd dealt with survivors like this all the time, but she never thought she'd be on the other end. Where was Fenton?

The news anchor snatched the mic from the boy, shooing him off camera. He remained a moment, trying to argue with her representation of what happened. They were calling this a catastrophe, calling out both Mark Beaks and Gizmoduck. Gizmoduck. Sounded like a name Fenton would come up with. Mrs. Cabrera smiled lightly. Where was Fenton?

More police cruisers pulled up. It looked as though the reporters were getting bored too, and the paramedics were getting ready to pack up. What reporters remained were hounding Beaks for answers about his flawed and dangerous superhero. As usual, he deflected the accusations, saying he did not design the suit, which is why it was faulty. Though she was mad that he would make this whole mess sound trivial, she wasn't surprised if the suit wasn't his invention. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if Fenton had designed it himself.

"Over here!"

The voice called out in the white noise. It felt like a dagger to the heart. Several paramedics and officers ran passed the boy and the anchor, descending the ladder onto the dock. She stood up, watching the group step down onto the small wooden deck. She felt her breath leave her lung as tears swelled in her eyes. One of the paramedics dragged Fenton from the edge of the dock, rolling him over gently and checking his pulse. The paramedics nodded to each other as one ran off to get a stretcher.

She threw off her blanket, racing over to the ladder as they were pulling him up on the stretcher. She pushed passed the newly regrouped reporters and some of the officers. His face was bruised, arms and legs looking burned and torn. She didn't care how he looked. She just cared that he was alive. Nothing appeared to be critical or the paramedics would be moving him to the ambulance in a more urgent manner.

"Ma'am, we need you to step back," instructed one of the paramedics.

"That's my son! That's my son!" she shouted, pushing through and grabbing onto his hand. "Fenton…please…"

"We're moving to the ambulance," sighed another paramedic.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"It doesn't look like anything series, though he probably has some broken bones. He must've been thrown from the crowd when the robot went crazy."

She wasn't going to correct him. The robot was a suit. It went crazy because Mark Beaks was an idiot. Fenton wasn't hurt after being thrown from the crowd. He was hurt for taking an explosion. An explosion that could've killed a lot of people. He was being a hero when everyone was running.

She loaded into the ambulance with the paramedics and Fenton. She continued to hold his hand, rubbing her thumb across the surface. She was trying not to cry, but her eyes watered so horribly they couldn't help but leak down her cheeks. Her boy was alive, maybe a little worse for wear, but he was alive! That's all that mattered. She smiled lightly, letting out a sigh of relief.