"Hi. Are you by yourself, Samantha?" Just by Mary's voice, Sam knew that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her heart started to speed up with fear at the sheer rawness of Mary's typically warm, motherly voice.

"No, give me a minute." Sam whispered over the receiver. She turned to Hizashi as she stood up from her swivel chair, grabbing her purse. "Give me a mo', I need to take this."

"The Calvary Battle is going to end soon." He whispered, covering his mic.

"I know, I'll be back." And with that Sam exited the commentator's booth and a few more moments, she was on a patio. "Yeah, what is it? Is everything alright?" Sam asked, fear slowly wrapping its' cold vice like grip on her heart.

"I-I wanted to tell you before the tabloids..." Mary trailed off. "I know you're at school, I know... but you need to know. Nathan was found..."

Sam froze. It couldn't be. She shook her head, ice water washing over her. "Is he alright?" She asked, her voice trembled.

"Honey, they found him dead."

Dead. What an odd word. Sam's heard of that word, all of her life. As a child in a place she didn't belong, as a rebellious teenager with the monarchy and as a adult pro heroine. Dead. Death. Died. Passed. Moved On. He's in a better place. How odd of an word to hear, now. To relate the word to the closet thing she's ever had to a father. Sam couldn't quite fantom that. What could she say to that? What on earth could she say back to Mary? "Okay." Sam finally spoke. It was a detached voice, void of most emotions. "How?"

"Tim says murder. No suspects yet." Mary murmured. It sounded recited like she she practiced what she said before

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah- no- I'm not. I will be, I think... When is it?" Sam asked.

"The wake is on Saturday and the funeral is Sunday."

"Okay, I have to go. School." Sam hung up before Mary could say anything even goodbye. She stood there on the patio alone for a couple minutes, not really thinking. Lost in her own mind. Why? Was a question that kept popping up, yet every time it did. She couldn't answer. She didn't have the answer. She needed a answer.

"Samantha?"

Sam spun around around to face the small, lean figure of Greg Blackthorn. A friend of sorts from New Scotland Yard. Sam shoved whatever emotions that she was struggling with into a corner of her mind. "Yeah?" She asked. Sam frowned at the suit clad man, what was he -a member of New Scotland Yard- doing at the sports festival? Did James or Tim put him up to this?

"Are you alright?"

"You know already." Sam mused, nausea swept through her at the thought of him. She leaned against the railing, breathing heavily. Sam tried to focus on the cumbersome boot but the nausea persisted and grew. She closed her eyes. In. Out. In. Sam opened her eyes, not allowing herself to focus on anything in particular. Once that Sam was satisfied that the nausea receded enough, she turned back to face the man.

"Yeah." He agreed. "I found out a couple hours ago. The news has ran, only a matter of time before it booms over here."

"What's New Scotland Yard doing at the U.A. Sports Festival?" Sam asked, abruptly.

"Seeing what's the big deal on this side of the pond. Scouting for recruits, you know." Greg explained, neutrally.

"Forensics is a new class at U.A." Sam remarked, drily. "Just started this year."

"Is it? How funny." Greg mused, curiously. "Let's get a drink."

"This is a school event." Sam huffed, pushing off the railing. She wholeheartedly agreed with needing a drink, right now but the school didn't even sell wine nor beer at any of the food stalls. Honestly, they were missing a huge fundraising opportunity.

"That's quite alright, I've taken the liberty of bringing my own." Greg shrugged and produced a bottle of scotch out of nowhere.

"Ah, I forgot about that." Sam murmured, remembering Greg's ability to store small items into another dimension of sorts that he could access at will. "Let me get some glasses." Sam slipped out, grabbing two cups from a nearby stand and retreating back to the patio. If she recalled correctly, this was a grace period for the festival. Lunch and break for the students and visitors alike. Sam and Greg had time to reflect. "Here." Sam passed a cup without ice over to Greg.

Greg quickly dealt the booze and lifted his plastic cup in toast. "To Nathan."

Sam could only lift hers and nod. She couldn't really speak his name like Greg could. The pair quickly drained their first round and Greg poured more without any words. "What separates the good from the bad?" Sam asked, softly. "Civilian to villain? A small step or a long fall?" Sam didn't really know why she wanted to know. Maybe for a reason - an explanation- for the faceless murderer of a good man. So, that maybe she could understand something, anything from this.

Greg drank for a moment, savoring the amber liquor. "A bad day, I suppose."

"A bad day." Sam scoffed, abruptly. Anger blooming in her chest with the quick aid of the scotch. "My entire life has been a bad day. A bad day doesn't mean shit. A bad day doesn't excuse any wrong deed you commit."

"In the moment, a bad day is the lowest you've ever been at that singular moment. Nowhere to go, why not sink lower?" Greg continued, rationally and calmly. The sandy haired man didn't look too surprised at Sam's flash of anger. "At the moment, it was their only option. Looking back at the havoc they've caused, they do regret and remorse over what they've done. In the end, a bad day splits everything. A villain to a vigilante to a civilian to a hero. The only thing that really makes any of them stand out is a choice."

"Do you think they do? Or will? Remorse?" Sam asked, finishing the rest of the contents in her cup. The anger loosened it's grip on Sam and a melancholy sorrow slowly filed that void. The liquor was starting to burn, lazily in her navel. "They should."

"I hope so." Greg murmured, pouring another round and banished the bottle out of sight. His phone started to ring and Sam threw back the drink and offered the cup to him. He pour one more and pulled out his phone. "I have to take this, Sam. It's about a case."

"Alright, Greg. Come around the apartment, later. Don't be a stranger." Sam said. She exited the patio and wandered to a table near the food stall. She wasn't bothered by the visitors, so she stayed. If she went to the teacher's area, Sam would've had to follow society's standards and hold a conversation. Sam sat by herself for several minutes, receding back into her previous, mindless state.

"Did you hear?" One voice caught Sam's attention. "Thanatos found on the banks of the Thames."

A sharp shiver ran down Sam's spine, her burgundy eyes watered.

"Stabbed, I heard." Another whispered.

"It's terrible." A heroine whimpered.

"I wonder if it's a copy cat of the hero killer?"

"It could be."

A cold numbness spread through Samantha, overtaking the liquor's burn. Sam's eyes widened at the next comment. "I read here that they found a note with the hero." Sam shot to her feet, wobbling, unsteadily on her boot. Her chair clattered to the floor and the whispers ceased as they looked at her. Sam hobbled as fast as she could. She didn't know where yet.

Samantha burst into the lone bathroom and locked the door with a master key. Sam sank wordlessly to the floor as she lost herself.

Sam's shoulders shook violently as sobs erupted through her throat. Trembling, she scooted to the tiled wall. Tears streaked down Sam's face and hiccups rattled through her. She knew who. She understood why. That didn't make it better, it only made it worse. It should've helped, why didn't it? "Why?!" She cried. She'd never see his smirk or hear him chuckle when she and James bicker. Or see the pride and happiness-. Sam screamed, wordlessly and quietly. Another violent hiccup cut off her outburst. She trembled wordlessly, glaring at the tiled walls. Tears running freely and openly over her reddening face. He was stolen from her. A thief robbed him from her world. The world lost Nathan Dark, all because of her. All because of Jack the Ripper.

"Who's in there?"