When Gregory heard the door open and close, he walked out from the kitchen.

"Wendy! Ah, here you are! I called you but you left your phone on the night table. Where have you been? Why didn't you tell me you left?"

"I'm sorry, dear." Wendy kissed his lips. "I didn't want to wake you up. My mother called me...A family emergency."

"Oh, I see...Uh...Did something bad happen?"

"My grandmother, she fell. But don't worry, she's alright, she just got a few bruises."

"Ah, that's good to hear. Talking about your grandmother: I don't think we have been introduced. Maybe we could take his chance and pay her a visit and meet each other, what do you think?"

"Oh, well...You see, she's a little bit...how could I put it? ...Traditional."

"Traditional in the 'no boyfriends' sense?"

"Sort of."

"Well, it's alright. Maybe with a bit of time and the help of your parents..."

"Sure. Don't worry, I'm sure she will love you once she gets to know you."

"Do you want pancakes?"

"How am I going to say no?"

Truth be told, those monstruous critters and the bloodbath had turned her stomach but, yes, how could she say no to him, when he was so glad to cook for her?

There was also something else about which she had not been totally sincere: her grandma was not that conservative. It was just that it was too soon to introduce him to her—she was still digesting that her granddaughter was not with that 'lovely boy', Stan, anymore.

She climbed the stair to change her clothes. She wasn't wounded, right? Yes, grazed but not wounded. What was Cartman thinking about when he gave her those ridiculous clothes? Also, why did they have to wear them in the first place? Cartman could play superheroes if he wanted, but them? They were just special people, not heroes. She only accepted to do that because of Bebe. She was not a heroine, just a lady with the ability to snoop around.

Wake up Wendy, smell the coffee

Help me into your custom kitchen

Gimme a cup of that old black magic

I wanna get me some of that old home cookin'

Huh?

Who was...?

Wendy closed her eyes, tracking the origin of that video file.

She saw it. Elton John, singing on a stage. She read 'Chef Aid' on a banner. The camera focused on a stand, where she recognized herself. She was little, like eight years old or so. Stan was by her side, blushing. Wendy was looking at him, smiling. Where did that old record come from? She didn't even remember that.

The video was stopped. It belonged to a gallery. Its name was Wendy. And she soon had an idea of whose phone it belonged to, because there was a recurring person in those photos and videos.

Stan. There he was, always smiling, always by her side. She saw more photos: Stan was scrolling through them in that precise moment. In a costume party, when they were children, she was dressed as a prince and Stan as a princess. Many years later, that P!nk concert, a selfie they took from their seats, the same photo she had deleted from her phone not too long ago. Another video was played, showing a summer morning at the pool with their friends, when Wendy had developed enough to show off her body; she was pretending to drown Stan. Then, another photo of their last trip together to the West Coast; Stan looked pretty weird because he was growing his beard and was all sunburnt, but she was kissing him tenderly and he didn't seem to mind the contact. Stan seemed to watch that photo for long.

Then, he left the gallery, to the main folder. He selected the Wendy folder.

'Delete'

'Do you want to delete this folder?'

Wendy swallowed. Of course. It was Stan's turn to do it. Come on, Stan, why is it taking you so long?

But the button 'cancel' was pressed, and Stan got our from the gallery to call a number. Her number.

Her phone started to vibrate on Gregory's night table. She didn't grab it. With a wink of her eye, she replied to the call.

"...Stan."

"Hi, Wendy...Uhm, I didn't wake you up, right?"

"Not at all. What's the matter?"

"I just wanted to apologize."

"About what?"

"About being an asshole. Because I've been behaving like a plus-size asshole these last weeks. You are right. You are very right, as always. I don't have the right to tell you what to do with your life after leaving you like that. I had my chance and I wasted it. I'm glad you're with Gregory now. If you're happy with him and gives you all that I couldn't...that's all that matters. I hope you can forgive me for everything that I've done. Perhaps we can still be friends after all...or...I mean, tolerate each other."

"Well...Yes, I guess we can still...Thank you, Stan."

"Well...Uhm...That's really all I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry again."

"Don't worry about it, really. It's all forgotten."

"Sure...Goodbye, Wendy."

"...Goodbye, Stan." she replied, but Stan had already cut the communication.

He didn't use his phone anymore, even if he had tons of notifications unread.

"What are you doing, dear?"

Wendy was a bit startled by seeing Gregory at the door. For how long had he been there? She hoped he hadn't noticed she was talking without any device.

"Pancakes are ready."

"Okay, I'm coming."

"Do you want syrup with it?"

"Don't worry, I'll add the toppings myself."

They both descended to the kitchen, Wendy not thinking about the breakfast or even the woodland critters.

It's all forgotten...What a liar she was. As if she could erase all those years together with a click.

"Ike, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ike removed his headphones and looked inquisitively at his father, who closed the door of his bedroom after being on the alert, listening, for a moment.

"I'm very worried about your brother...Since the accident he's been acting strange, getting in so much trouble...I've talked to him but I see he's hasn't been sincere to me...You don't know anything about this, right?"

Some people said that it was hard to read the face of a Canadian, with those little eyes and fancy heads, but Gerald was Ike's father after all, he knew him, and saw that, when he answered no, he really meant it.

"I don't want to find out there's a problem when it's too late..."

"Did Mom...?"

"She thinks there's nothing to worry about." Ike couldn't help smiling. So this time his mother was more relaxed about her son's problems and his father was the one who worried? This was a funny turn! "She thinks all of this has to do with the trauma of the electrocution, that it will be gone with time, but I fear there's something else...What I want to ask you, Ike, is that, if Kyle tells you something or you see something suspicious..."

Ike quickly adopted a straight face.

"Sure, dad, I'll tell you."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Gerald patted Ike's shoulder. "Thank you, son."

That was all before leaving the room. Ike went back to his Spotify playlist but he didn't pay attention to the music anymore.

The thing was that...his father was right. Kyle was acting really weird, spent a lot of time with his old friends or talking to them, he seemed distracted most of the time. There were times when he surprised him in a room or at the backyard and flustered. Not to mention the glasses he wore as if his life depended on it for some days. Yes, something was up with Kyle.

"I'm going to work, Mom!"

"Huh? Ah, alright, bubbe, have a good day!"

The door closed.

"Oh, they make him work on weekends again..."

That was what Ike needed to get up from the bed and put his sneakers on. He had memorized Kyle's work schedule because he always needed someone to drive him to places, and he was completely sure that is employer, a friend of his father, who knew the family was Jewish, would never risk himself to be sued by a Jewish employee for making him work on Shabbat. Kyle was going somewhere, lying to his family.

Kyle closed the door. There was nobody in the storing unit, which was good, because he didn't like exhibiting his powers that much. He had the feeling that he performed better when no one was watching.

Timmy, who worked as a camp monitor on summers, had gotten some bullseyes. Craig also bought a few mannequins he had found in a thrift shop. Somebody seemed to have practiced with those, because one if it was melted.

It was his turn now. He made his neck crack, tilting it to one side and the other, then exhaled the air out of his lungs; and next to that, he waved his arms in order to stretch himself.

He stopped. That gesture shouldn't have provoked that air wave, as if he had had enormous fans in his hands.

Perhaps...

Hey, Tweek thought he could just heal and then was able to freeze too. Perhaps he had additional powers too.

It was exciting, so exciting that Kyle forgot about the lasers. He waved his hands again as if he was bouncing imaginary basketball balls.

He jumped, and it was an involuntary move.

Enthusiastic, he repeated it, longer. He ascended four feet from the floor.

He was starting to get the drift, it encouraged him to try harder. He opened his arms with a strong movement, and he was propelled up like a rocket. He floated. He just had to think he wanted to stay up and there he stayed.

Kyle couldn't believe that was happening. He was flying. He felt the air tickling his body, holding him, light but firm. It was such a marvellous thing that he couldn't help laughing.

But the laugh was brief, and he chocked on it. Someone was at the door of the unit, looking at him. It was a familiar face. A face which seemed cut in two. It was his little brother.

"Ike!"

The magic was gone. Kyle descended to the round clumsily, almost falling brusquely. He walked to Ike, not sure of what to do or say feeling his blood froze inside of his veins.

"Ike...What are you...You...I know this is weird but..."

Oh, that face. He was so shocked, the poor boy.

"You have nothing to worry about, I don't mean to hurt anybody and..."

"That. Was. So. COOL!"

Ike couldn't get any closer, his beady eyes open with ecstasy.

"How did you do that?! You were flying! Flying! Oh, Jesus! Since when?! Wait...The electrocution! That's right! It gave you superpowers! That comic stuff was true after all! And I squashed that spider in the bathroom this morning! Geez, Kyle! You have any idea of what you just did?!"

"Yeah, yeah, calm down, don't shout! Did you come alone?"

"Yes."

"Good. Listen: you can't tell anybody about this."

"Of course! They'd capture you and run experiments on you!"

"Yeah, and imagine what Mom would do if she found out."

"Oh! No, no, no, she mustn't know!"

"That's right. This is between you and I, alright? You promise!"

"I swear on my life. Okay, but I want to scream so bad. You can fly!"

"It has something to do with the air. But that's not all: I got lasers too."

"Lasers? Let me see."

"Uh, no, I'd better..."

"Come ooooon!"

Kyle shrugged. Well, why not? He was busted already. He turned towards one of the bullseyes and a flash made a hole in its center. Ike jumped and gasped in awe.

"This is super!"

"Thanks. But remember: you can't tell a soul about this. And don't you dare post anything in Internet about me! Nevermore!"

"Sure, alright, of course, I won't. You think I am a dummy?"

"Yes, you are." More relaxed now, Kyle grabbed his brother and rubbed his kuckles on his head.

"Stop, you bully!" Ike laughed. Once he got to break free from him, he smirked. "Come on, I want to see you do your stuff!"

"Okay, feast your eyes, because you're not going to see it again."

"Uh-Uh. You evidently have no idea of what you have there. There's so much potential you're missing. That's why you need assistance. From now on, I will be your Alfred. Your Jimmy Olsen. Your-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What?"

Ike winked. "All good superheroes have a sidekick."