Have you ever had to tell a man his only child is dead? The only person left in his life, the only reason he kept going, gone in an instant. Two days after I'd told him his daughter—a supervillain—died a hero, Danny Hebert shot himself.

One more corpse to go with the rest.

It stuck with me, that one. It would've been as easy to justify it the same way as all the others, Leviathan did this, but for some reason it didn't sit right with me. Surely, I could have said something different, broke the news better somehow. But I hadn't, and now the blood was on my hands.

The sad thing was, that wasn't even the most troubling thing on my mind.

"Three new Wards?" I asked.

"That's correct, in—" Armsmaster replied, but I cut him off.

"You traded Kid Win for three random strangers?"

"Clockblocker, that's not—"

"You don't think we've lost enough?" I shouted angrily. "Dean and Carlos weren't enough? Who's next, are you going to send Missy to Alaska?"

Armsmaster stared up at me, his face blank. "No," he said flatly. "Dennis. I'm sorry. This is just the way the reorganization went."

"That's horseshit." I looked away, closing my eyes.

"Chris requested the transfer. Insisted I sign off."

Oh. Fuck. We hadn't talked since then, he'd been distant. I thought maybe it had just been me overthinking things, when he'd avoid being in the same room as me, but… but this? He was leaving, because I pushed too far.

Armsmaster was still talking, but I wasn't listening. Instead, I was running out of his office, tagging the door behind me so he couldn't follow without going through a wall.

I found myself in my room, staring up at the ceiling. My best friend, the one person in my life I didn't have to think about what to say… hated me now?

A few hours later, I was on the roof, giving a halfhearted wave to him as he boarded the helicopter. "Keep the city safe," he'd said to Vista and I before leaving. I'd mumbled something, I couldn't remember.

And then he was gone, and in his place three strangers introducing themselves. Weld, Necator, Flechette. Vista introduced herself, I said "Clockblocker" and got a raised metal eyebrow from Weld. They went off to unpack, Vista went off with Stalker on patrol, I was stuck here. On-call, in case something happened. In reality, it was almost always a day stuck in an uncomfortable costume, sitting in the common room. Things were a bit different lately, with the PHQ gone, we were housing the Protectorate wherever we could. Eventually it would get sorted out, but for now, I was stuck weaving between flight cases and jumping inch-thick bundles of cables.

Everyone else had dinner in the PRT mess. I didn't bother, just sitting up and staring at the ceiling, waiting for the alarm to go off…

"Hey," someone said. I glanced over to see Weld, sitting down across from me. "This seat taken?"

I shook my head. "Not hungry?"

"No need," he quipped.

Oof. Right. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he said with a smile. "I just wanted to meet everybody one-on-one."

"You're replacing Aegis." My voice was flat.

"I wouldn't word it that way, but yes. The PRT wants me in charge of the Wards here." He paused, like I was supposed to say something to that. I remained silent, so he continued his voice full of forced optimism, "I only know everyone by their files. I'd like to fix that."

"Okay," I said after a pause. "What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "Tell me about yourself, about what the files don't say?"

I sighed. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Look man, I'm just trying to get settled. You guys have been through a lot, and—"

I didn't need the speech. "Dennis Cooper, a.k.a. Clockblocker. Age 17. Striker 7 with time manipulation. Do we really need the icebreaker shit?"

Weld was quiet for a second. "Okay, sure. Why have you rescheduled or missed every therapy meeting for the last six months?"

"I don't need a shrink," I said angrily.

"The—"

"Did I stutter? Have you looked outside? This city's a mess, and Leviathan didn't exactly help. We don't have time for that bullshit."

"So that's why you're avoiding them, out of a sense of obligation?"

"Sure," I said flatly. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

"...Alright. I'm not going to make you go, but please reconsider. You're more than Clockblocker, don't let being a cape consume that. Remember your friends and family."

Excuse me? I stood up, my fists balled. A look of alarm appeared on Weld's stupid metal face. Deep breath. Calm the fuck down. "Your stupid files are outdated," I muttered angrily.

"Sorry?" he asked, confused. Then a look of realization dawned. "Oh… I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," I forced myself to say. "Just drop the shit, okay? And don't fucking tell anyone on the team."

"You haven't told them?"

"No. We all lost people. I don't need them worrying about me. The PRT's having me emancipated. It's fine." He didn't look very reassured. "Don't fuck up your new guy pass with me, Weld."

"They'll find out eventually, you know that, right? I won't tell them, but they'll figure it out. Tell them before then, when you're ready."

"When I'm ready," I agreed. So never. "We done?"

"Yeah, we're—" I didn't wait for him to finish, standing up and walking away. I made it all the way to my room before punching a hole in the sheetrock.

One missed call.

I dismissed the notification, for what felt like the millionth time. Dropped the phone on my tummy. Back to staring at the ceiling. It beeped again, thirty seconds later.

Message from Aunt Laura: call me

Another minute passed.

Message from Aunt Laura: dennis, please call. uncle rick and i are worried.

I turned the phone off. And then threw it at the wall. It made a nice thwack sound. Little things like that kept me going.

My dad's brother, his wife, and their two kids. They lived on the west coast, I couldn't remember where. Washington? Anyway, we'd never really had the money to visit. Mom had been an only child, her parents died in New York. So really, they were the last living family I had left.

The problem, besides kicking the can down the road as far as talking to them went, was that they didn't know I was a cape. Aunt Laura was PRT, but thanks to security clearances I didn't have to worry there. Honestly? I didn't want them to know, and talking meant they'd find out, somehow.

There was a knock at the door. "Clock!" Missy's voice. I ignored her, hoping she'd wander away… "I know you're in there."

Fuck. "Not up for a chat right now," I shouted back.

Instead of responding, the door warped, the gap at the base widening to become a three-foot-high opening, that Vista ducked under. "C'mon, get up!"

"What do you want?" I asked, returning my gaze to the ceiling.

"We're going on a patrol. Let's go… Dennis, what'd you do to your phone?"

"I threw it at the wall."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to answer it."

"That's not a reason."

"Yes it is."

There was the sound of a foot stomping. "Well get in costume, we're going. You need to get outdoors, this room smells super gross."

"I'll meet you outside?"

"Five minutes," she ordered, actually opening the door this time to walk out.

Maybe she was right. A patrol, just like we'd been doing. A chance to actually do some much-needed good, Youth Guard be damned. I rolled off the bed, landing back-first on the carpet with a thunk. At the very least, I could get my mind off things.

As I dug around for my cleanest set of boots, I thought that fateful, clichéd line. What could possibly go wrong?