A soft, gentle breeze blows through the busy roads of West Village, sending small swirls of sand blowing up through the quiet yet lively town in the vast deserts of Thera’s farthest western reaches. The small sounds of local chatter and lowing from livestock fill the town with the sound of life, despite the near total emptiness of the vast landscape surrounding them. The village’s main strip is especially packed with people slowly but surely repairing the central road and business sector that was destroyed when the Harbinger of Death had arrived well over a month before. While the death toll had thankfully been relatively small, over a dozen families still grieve the loss of loved ones, family, and friends. Yet, just as the vast scars of destruction in the town are being repaired, so too are those families slowly moving back to their normal, quaint lives.

  However, despite the relative peace and quiet in the town—save for the occasional skirmish with monster raids—three families in particular can find no peace, no comfort, for their missing loved ones. Walking down the jagged edge of what’s left of the main strip, Venna Michaels, her daughter Jane, and her two friends Cindy Wood and Laine Locke make their way down from their homes, each carrying the day’s supply of goods to sell in the small stands that have been put up in place of the destroyed markets.

  “How’re we doing today, Venna?” Laine asks, her short, silky black hair glinting in the burning blue sun as she turns to face her friend.

  “Same as always,” Venna replies with a noncommittal shrug, hefting the load of hand-sewn outfits in her arms for a better grip. “The kids haven’t been back in weeks. I’m really starting to worry about them now.”

  Cindy smiles wryly to herself. “You know they ain’t kids anymore, right? Peter and Maria are in their twenties, and Joel is nineteen. They can handle themselves out there just fine.”

  Venna shakes her head in tired worry. “I know, I know. What is that, the tenth time you’ve told me that this week?”

  “Well, you do keep saying the same thing each day,” Laine points out as she rounds the corner to her booth, handing some freshly picked fruits and vegetables to her son, Max as he takes inventory of their supply for the day. “Your dad still with the herd?” She asks him a bit distractedly.

  “Yep. Apparently Magnus got a few of the cows pregnant, so he’s making preparations for the new calves,” Max replies with a chuckle. “Can’t wait to see Maria’s face when she shows up to three new mushews waiting for her.”

  “That old bull is still going strong, huh?” Jane asks with mild amusement as she helps her mother open their stand. “I still wish we could get a herd of mushews for ourselves.”

  “You know we don’t have the room for them,” Venna says distantly as she looks out beyond the town gate toward the horizon. A small glint coming from just below the peaks of the newly dubbed ‘Hook Mountain’ catches her eye, a silvery sheen seeming to materialize from the massive hole her son had accidentally bored into the side of the ancient mountain all that time ago. At first, she doesn’t think too much of it and continues her work, but she keeps sneaking glances up toward the mountain, slowly realizing that whatever is out there is getting closer, and fast.

  As Venna gets distracted by the incoming object, her daughter starts to take an interest in it as well, straining her eyes to try and see what could be coming in from so far away. Soon enough, Laine and Cindy also start staring down toward the horizon as the incoming object starts to take shape. First, the faint, metallic outline of a hood becomes visible, then the plumes of dust and sand coming from behind it, and finally the full shape of a strange and distinctly new buggy comes roaring over the dunes, the sound of its engine carrying over the vast desert like an approaching thunder cloud.

  “Is that…?” Venna mutters, stepping away from her stand and squinting hard, trying to will the buggy’s driver into clearer view. After a brief moment, she can make out the billowing red of a plaid jacket in the driver’s seat, and the dulled yet still visible splash of yellow sitting next to it. “Oh, my god…”

  “Joel?” Cindy whispers under her breath in disbelieving joy as the buggy tears its way through the desert and its driver starts flailing his arm wildly to get somebody’s attention. Cindy’s eyes widen as the distant image of her son quickly comes into sharper view as he nears the edge of the town, his golden blond hair shimmering in the sun, his dark red jacket covered in suspiciously darker red stains. Beside him sits Peter—Venna’s son—and behind the both of them is Maria—Laine’s daughter—and a strange fourth man in a tight green shirt.

  “It’s Peter!” Jane exclaims, rushing away from their stand, dragging her mother excitedly behind her, quickly followed by Cindy and Laine as they, too, sprint to the edge of town, calling out for their children and alerting the entire village to their arrival.

  Within seconds the entire population of West Village is clamoring to the front gates, only making room for the Michaels, Woods, and Lockes to push their way to the front to welcome their children back home. Venna, Jane, and Mamaw each hold each other tightly, as if afraid that any of them would be swallowed up by the crowd, unable to see Peter again. Cindy and her daughter Gwen stand closest to the gates, with Joel’s estranged father Gideon holding toward the back, unsure if he should even be there. Meanwhile, the entire Locke family shouts and hollers for Maria, Laine waving her hands excitedly, her husband Jackson calling out at the top of his lungs, and their son Max shouting asinine jokes at his younger sister to get her attention.

  Encouraged by the sight of the entire village showing up, Joel puts on one last burst of speed, pushing their borrowed vehicle for all that it’s worth, nearly causing its engine to burst from overheating before veering it off to a sudden halt just barely outside of the village. He rushes to switch the buggy off leaps out of the driver’s seat, helps Peter get down, then races to embrace his family, charging arms-first into a desperate family hug, laughing and crying at the same time as he tries and fails to say anything at the sight of his mother and sister.

  Maria is the next to meet her family, rushing forward as quickly as her weary legs can carry her, eventually deciding to just heft her family up with her telekinesis and pull them to her in a tight group hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Jackson says quietly into his daughter’s ear, his voice cracking as tears roll down his eyes.

  “Was there ever any doubt?” Maria asks, trying to keep her voice casual despite her own tears.

  Finally, Peter limps his way over to his family as they rush out of the town to meet him, Venna instantly breaking down and sobbing over her son’s safe return. “Hi, Ma. I’m home,” Peter says simply as he melts into his mother’s arms, barely managing to lift his own to draw Jane and Mamaw into the hug.

  “Oh, Peter…” Venna says through soft sobs, all of her worries from the past month evaporating like dew at the sight of her son. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’ll be—” Peter breaks off as a wince cuts his words short, a sharp stab of pain shooting up his right arm as Jane presses too hard against it. He pulls back slightly but doesn’t let go entirely, refusing to let a little pain get in the way of his reunion. “Well, yeah, I guess I’m pretty banged up, but I’ll be fine.”

  Venna reacts almost instantly to that, pulling away from her son to really examine him, her eyes widening in horror and pain as she sees the sorry state her son truly is in. His arms are covered in scars and cracks, like shattered stone that has been clumsily pressed back together. His clothes are in tatters, save for his father’s bandana wrapped around his neck, which is somehow nearly spotless. His legs look like they’re on the verge of collapsing, and he is covered in dirt, soot, grime, and even dried blood. “What… What happened to you?” Venna asks in hushed tones, unable to comprehend the sheer amount of damage her precious boy has taken.

  Even Jane and Mamaw seem completely shocked as they take in Peter’s injuries. “Did you win? Is she gone?” Jane asks slowly, her eyes drifting from her brother’s shattered limbs to his weary eyes, searching for some hope, some sign of good for all the bad he’s clearly gone through.

  Peter nods his head tiredly. “Yes. Yes, the Harbinger is gone for good.”

  Behind him, Sullivan Jones walks up, bracing him up as his knees start to buckle from exhaustion. “Mrs. Michaels, I assume?” He asks Venna in a calm, clear voice.

  Venna nods slowly, taking in his sheer size in clear shock. “Yes, I’m his mother, Venna. Who… Who are you?”

  “My name is Sullivan Jones. I helped your son defeat the Harbinger. I hate to break this up, but Peter needs medical attention, and soon,” he says, motioning to Peter’s cracked limbs and occasionally bleeding cuts with his eyes. “Is there a doctor nearby we could get him to?”

  “Yes,” Venna replies after a brief moment. “Yes, follow me, all of you,” she says, motioning for the other two families to follow her to Doc Felix’s hospital, which they all gladly do. As the three families fall in line, the crowd around them disperses, allowing them all unblocked access to the hospital, including Gideon as he follows distantly from behind, his eyes hooded under his messy hair, his face scruffy from the shaggy beginnings of an unkept beard.

  Within minutes, Peter is lying down on Doc Felix’s examination table, being poked and prodded and tested from every angle. The town doctor shakes his head in distressed awe as he takes in the sheer damage his most frequent patient has managed to get himself into this time. “I’ll be honest with ya, I’m shocked you’re still alive. I don’t know what in the scorching winds you ran into out there, but your arms are barely holding together, you’ve lost an alarming amount of blood, and your lungs sound like they’ve been flame-grilled. It’s a miracle you’re still with us, Peter.”

  Venna’s wide eyes drift from the doctor to Peter, her mouth hung in horror. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

  “Well, we got into a pretty big battle,” Peter replies with a pained grunt as he pulls himself upright to face his family. “I had to go all out to kill the Harbinger, and it cost me.”

  “I’ll say,” Felix’s assistant Chelsea says distractedly as she hands Peter a small vial of disconcertingly pale liquid. “Take this. It’s an iron solution. It’ll get your blood levels back up to…well not normal, but better than they are now.”

  Peter nods his thanks and downs the disgusting solution in one gulp, his raw and dry throat protesting in agony as the metallic liquid oozes down into his body. “But she’s not the only one we fought that day,” he continues through a small gag as his exhausted body tries to reject the iron solution.

  Maria nods solemnly, her gaze distant and a little haunted as she remembers the battle that came next. “I don’t know what he was, but some…creature…just showed up from the sky. Nearly killed us all…”

  “What do you mean?” Jackson asks quietly, trying to keep the rising fear out of his voice.

  “He was a monster,” Maria begins to explain, gesturing with her hands as if trying to draw the figure that still haunts her nightmares with her fingers. “Pale white skin, long purple hair, soulless eyes… He was more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen. He just toyed with us the whole fight. He had us all by the throat, then he just left.”

  “Like we weren’t worth the trouble,” Joel mutters darkly from the corner, staring into his hands as he holds what little is left of the prototype Psycho Scrambler.

  “No…” Gideon mumbles to himself from outside the patient room, drawing everyone’s attention with his sudden appearance. His head whips up, his eyes wild and full of terror. “Did it have a name? What did it call itself?” He demands, his voice completely unhinged as he grips the doorframe so tightly his knuckles turn white and splinters start to form in the wood.

  “Vega,” Sullivan replies simply, eyeing Joel’s father curiously.

  “No… No, no, no, no, no, no, no…! No, he can’t be back, he can’t be!” Gideon raves, pacing frantically, clutching his sides, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as they try to get his attention to ask what’s wrong. Suddenly his head darts up and he rushes into the patient room, barging through everyone until he is just inches away from his son. “Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt at all? Did it work?!” He shouts, grasping Joel’s shoulders and pulling him uncomfortably close.

  “Back off!” Joel exclaims, thrusting Gideon’s hands off of his shoulders and shoving him back slightly before he dusts himself off from his father’s touch. “I’m fine. Look at me, I’m fine.” He pauses to lift up the charred remains of the Scrambler, as if the fragments of metal could dispel any and all worries at once. “As janky as this thing was, it worked, okay? Happy?”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Gideon nods distractedly, not really looking at anyone in particular before he starts to shake his head slowly. “That’s…not what I meant…”

  Joel furrows his brow in confusion. “Then what did you mean?”

  Gideon simply shakes his head. “Not here, not here. Meet me at h— At my place. We can talk there.” Without any further elaboration, he leaves the hospital, moving much faster than Joel has ever seen him move before.

  “What was that all about?” Gwen asks Cindy, who simply shrugs in reply.

  “Pardon me,” Doc Felix announces as he tries to reassert control over the situation. “I do still have a patient to tend to here, then I have to check on the others, so could we please save the chaos until later?” A collective ‘sorry’ fills the room as the three families start to pour out of the entirely too small patient room.

  “I’ll save you some hassle. I’m fine, Doc,” Sullivan says simply, ignoring Felix’s protests as he exits the room and makes his way out of the hospital to make himself familiar with the layout of the town. He wanders through West Village aimlessly, greeting the friendly locals with nods and waves, but not really speaking to any of them. He makes his way to the center of the town where he finds a small, clearly disused well. He peers into the well curiously, finding a series of pipes and valves that seem to stretch into infinity the further he follows them.

  “Joel’s dad made them,” Maria’s voice says from behind, giving Sullivan a mild scare as he flinches and turns around.

  “What, the guy with the beard in the hospital?” He asks, getting a nod from Maria in reply. “What are they for?”

  “They get water to every home in the village,” Maria says as she walks closer to the old well, peering in with a small smile. “It was Gideon’s pet project for a whole year when we were younger. He just woke up one day and decided that our water supply needed an upgrade. Now everyone has fresh running water whenever they need it.”

  Sullivan nods, clearly impressed. “I see where Joel gets it from, then.”

  Maria chuckles softly, mostly to herself. “Don’t let him know you said that. He hates his old man.”

  “I noticed,” Sullivan replies slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the well with his legs. “What happened between them? ‘Cause from what I could tell, Gideon still loves his son.”

  Maria hesitates for a moment, still staring into the well before she looks up to speak. “I’m sure he does in his own weird way. He’s been…distant…for about a decade now. No one knows what happened to him, and he won’t tell anyone. He and Peter’s dad, Marcus, went off to deal with some big threat ten years ago, and—” She cuts herself off as a rush of realization suddenly crashes into her mind. She bolts upright and races to Gideon’s house with Sullivan closely behind, utterly confounded.

  As the two near Gideon’s place they run into Joel, nearly crashing into him as he makes his slow, methodical way over to the same run-down house. “Why’re you two here?” He asks after he manages to avoid getting flattened.

  “I need to ask your—Gideon—I need to ask him a question,” Maria splutters, catching herself mid-sentence before she says something stupid.

  Joel gives her a confused glance then shrugs. “Fine. I could use the backup, anyway,” he says noncommittally. The trio makes their way up to Gideon’s porch, the ancient wooden steps creaking in protest and slightly breaking under the weight of three people at once, as if the house itself bore Gideon’s nameless anxiety. Joel goes to knock on the door, then stops just before his fist makes contact on the door. He drops his hand and stares forlornly forward, a strange medley of fear, anger, and nostalgia welling up in his mind, threatening to draw tears in his eyes. The moment passes and he finally knocks, rapping the door three times.

  Almost instantly it flies open as Gideon practically barrels through the house to let his son in. “Joel! Why are—? Never mind, they can come in, too.” He suddenly dips back into his home, leaving the others on the porch.

  “We’ll be inside,” Maria says softly, motioning for Sullivan to follow her in, leaving Joel behind with a compassionate glance. Joel steadies himself with a few breaths before he crosses the doorway and enters his childhood home for the first time in years, shutting the door behind him with finality.

  Looking around the home, a deep feeling of old despair washes over him. Everywhere he looks he sees random clutter—scattered fragments of a half-dozen unknown projects lying around, old pictures resting on dusty and unkempt shelves, dishes left out randomly, stale bits of food strewn on the floor. As he makes his way through the house he spots the occasional treasure amongst the trash. The first thing he notices is his old favorite toy buggy lying on the old coffee table, looking just as pristine as he remembers it. He fiddles with the wooden model’s wheels for a bit then places it back down gently. Then he finds an old drawing of his framed on a wall, a crude drawing of a gun with two chambers. His hand brushes against the TwinSilver, the full realization of that childhood fantasy, a weapon so unwieldy and awkward that only a kid would appreciate it.

  A small sad smile creeps onto Joel’s face as he passes through the living room and rounds the corner into the dining room. Brief flashes of memory pour through his mind, images of him and his younger sister racing through the house to get dinner, him and his father working on random projects late into the night, his mother trying and failing to teach him how to cook but still eating his undeniably horrible food. He allows himself to revel in this one moment of joy before he steps into the dining room and comes face to face with Gideon, his haunted and unkempt face a painful reminder of reality.

  “So. What did you want to tell me? What’s got you so worked up?” Joel asks, crossing his arms over his chest and locking eyes with Gideon.

  Gideon starts pacing as he speaks, his anxiety rising with every step. “The monster you fought—Vega—he’s back. He shouldn’t be back, but he’s back. And he just left you? Just fought and left?”

  “We gave it everything we had, but it still wasn’t enough,” Sullivan says, motioning to Joel. “He’s the only reason we lasted as long as we did.”

  Gideon whirls around to stare at his son, who simply shrugs uncomfortably. “What can I say? That hunk of junk you gave me was actually useful. Emphasis on ‘was’,” he finishes as he pulls the charred scraps of the Psycho Scrambler out of a pouch on his hip and fiddles with them.

  Gideon nods slowly and closes his eyes. “And he didn’t do anything else to you? Nothing he tried worked?”

  Joel shudders slightly as he remembers Vega’s voice in his mind, the deep, commanding presence that filled his entire consciousness and threatened to smother his own voice. “He could speak into my mind. He tried to control me, force me to kill myself, but right as I was about to…pull the trigger…his voice faded away, and I was back in charge.”

  Gideon’s eyes go wide in horror then even wider in relief. “Thank god it worked!”

  “What worked?” Joel demands, not wanting to repeat the same song and dance. “What are you talking about, Gideon?”

  “And how do you know Vega?” Maria chimes in, taking a step forward, forcing Gideon to step back. She stares intently at the old man, not angrily or spitefully, but analytically, purposefully. “It was with Marcus, wasn’t it? The day you two ran off?”

  Stunned, Gideon simply stands there for a while, unsure what to say. Finally, he nods, lowering his head in shame and pain. “I told him not to go. I told him Vega was too powerful, but he never listened to me. ‘I know it’s dangerous,’ he told me. ‘That’s why we have to fight it. If not us, then who?’” Gideon takes a seat, falling laboriously into an old chair that screams in protest against his weight. “I knew it was a bad idea. Even with my limited strength, I could feel Vega’s power, like a blanket smothering the entire planet. It felt like a trap like he was calling out for something, taunting us with his strength, beckoning us to challenge him, urging us to come.

  “It was a trap, and we ran right into it, arms wide open, ready to die.” Gideon pauses solemnly, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “Vega was waiting for us. He said something about being a god among mortals, about craving his next meal, that Marcus would sustain him for years to come.”

  “Just like Peter,” Sullivan mutters, putting some pieces together. “Was Marcus as strong as Peter is?”

  “Peter is stronger,” Gideon replies without hesitation. “But Marcus was a close second. Vega almost drained him dry right there on the spot, but I stepped in, took his blast head on. It felt like I was on fire, like my entire body was being ripped inside out, like my blood was turning to ice…”

  “Like the worst pain you’ve ever experienced,” Sullivan says quietly, knowing the feeling of Vega’s draining lightning firsthand.

  Gideon nods. “Yes, if only that was the worst of it. After he was done draining me, he called me worthless, said my power wasn’t worth consuming. He tried to throw me away, but Marcus stepped in and saved me. I guess Vega just…got bored and decided to play with us… He possessed my mind and body, he forced me to fight Marcus.” He starts shaking, clutching his head with white-knuckled hands as he relives the same horror he’s been reliving for a decade now.

  “All I could hear was his laughter. He just kept laughing and laughing and laughing! In my head, for eternity, just laughing! Marcus didn’t fight back. He took every hit head-on like my best efforts barely even tickled him. Then, just like that, Vega got bored again and… And everything went black. I woke up, and Marcus wasn’t there. I searched for him for hours, and when I finally found him, he was already gone. I can still see his face when I close my eyes…”

  A heavy silence fills the house as Gideon weeps silently, tears pouring down his face like a river. Before anyone else can speak, he pushes through his pain to address his son. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about, Joel. After Vega took control of me, I dedicated myself to finding a way to shield everyone’s mind from psychic control. I ran test after test, did experiment after experiment, until I finally found the right system. I applied it to myself and to you—”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Joel interrupts with a wave of his hand. “When did you do this? I don’t remember you ever testing anything on me.”

  “You were asleep…” Gideon replies shamefully, not meeting his son’s baleful gaze. “I knew I needed to protect you, and this test would do that. But, I didn’t know about the side effects. I didn’t realize my shield went both ways, until it was too late.”

  “You…” Joel begins, trying to wrap his head around that last sentence. His eyes grow dark as he realizes what Gideon had really done to him. Maria glances at him in shock, putting the pieces together herself. “You’re the reason I’m powerless.” He stalks forward, keeping one hand on the dining table as he corners Gideon, his meager frame absolutely towering over Gideon’s small, fearful body. “That’s what you wanted to tell me, ain’t it? That you decided to ‘save’ me by crippling and abandoning me, without ever telling me! Is that it? Is that your big secret, pops?”

  Gideon cowers under Joel’s hateful eyes, stammering for a response. “I— I didn’t mean to— I never wanted to hurt you, son—”

  “Don’t you ever call me that!” Joel screams, lifting his hand from the table and smacking Gideon so hard that he flies out of his chair. “You abandoned me! You abandoned us! You broke my brain, broke Mom’s heart, and abandoned us! And you have the nerve to call me ‘son’? You’re not my father, Gideon. You’re just a sad, useless, pathetic old man! Don’t ever speak to me again, got it?”

  “Joel, please…” Gideon pleads, his haunted eyes streaming with tears, begging his only son for forgiveness, for understanding, for anything other than hate.

  “I told you to shut up,” Joel replies, his voice getting eerily low. “If you ever speak to me or my family again, it’ll be the last mistake you make. Got it?” Gideon sobs silently and lowers his head, not saying a word in reply. “Good.” With that, he stalks out of the house, ripping the framed drawing from the wall and snatching the toy buggy from the table on his way out.

  Maria stares at Gideon in combined shock, disgust, and sympathy. She wants to comfort the old man, to say anything to ease the pain of what just happened, but she can’t think of anything. All she can think to do is leave, racing after Joel to try and reason with him, instead. Sullivan watches as Maria rushes off but stays behind. He kneels down to offer Gideon a hand back up into his seat, then sits down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “This might not be my place to say, but you need to know this, Gideon. Your son is the only reason we’re still alive. He’s the most brilliant man I’ve ever met, one heck of a shot, too. His tech has kept us safe time and time again, and I think I have you to thank for that. I don’t know what all you two have been through, or what your relationship was like before, but I know that Joel still takes after you, whether he likes to admit it or not. He never stops working, never stops trying to keep up with the rest of us, and never quits even when the odds are immensely stacked against him. He’s become a fine young man, and if I were you, I’d be proud to be able to call him my son.”

  “I know he has…” Gideon whispers, his voice hoarse with sorrow. “I’m so very proud of the man he’s become, despite my mistakes. I just wish I could be a man he could be proud of, too.”

  Sullivan nods and stands up, giving Gideon a small, encouraging pat on the back. “You still can. As long as you’re alive, you still have the chance to make things right. Believe me, I know how hard it is to let the past go. I know how easy it is to live in pain and regret. But at the end of the day, you have to make the choice to move forward or to stand still. And I think you’ll make the right choice.” Before Gideon can reply, Sullivan leaves, following after Maria and Joel, leaving Gideon to think about all that’s happened.

  ***

  Joel storms away from his childhood home in a fog of rage. He wants to break something, anything, just to let out his anger, but he restrains himself. He already let loose on Gideon, and no one else deserves his rage right now. So he instead just trudges through the town, mindlessly wandering to Mullen’s workshop, eager to find anything to take his mind off of his pain.

  “Joel!” Maria shouts from behind him, racing towards him at breakneck pace. “Wait up a minute!”

  “Just leave me alone,” Joel replies as Maria nears, not wanting to speak to anyone, let alone face someone who just saw his outburst.

  “Please, just listen. I know you’re hurting right now, but—”

  Joel whips around, his wild eyes filled with tears. “You know what, Maria? You don’t know what I’m going through. You’ve never had to live your entire life feeling like a failure. You’ve never had to get up before dawn and train for hours, hoping and praying you could move so much as a pebble before anyone else could see you. You’ve never had to watch your best friends play god while you sit back and watch, knowing you’ll never be like them. So just don’t. Don’t tell me it’ll be okay. Don’t try to talk this down.” He turns on his heels and continues his way down to the workshop, leaving Maria behind. “Just leave me alone. Please, Maria.”

  Maria halts and watches as Joel walks away, desperately wishing to follow after him, but knowing that she should stay put, let him process everything before she tries to talk to him again. After a moment, Sullivan walks up behind her, watching as Joel rounds the corner and disappears from sight. “Will he be alright?”

  Maria shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him so angry before.”

  “I’d imagine finding out your own father experimented on you as a child would be difficult for anyone to process,” Sullivan says calmly. “Give him some time. He’ll calm down on his own.”

  “Right,” Maria replies with a sigh, looking toward the hospital with a wry smile. “Come on. Let’s check on the other problem child.”

  Sullivan chuckles at that and follows after her. “Now the real question is, will he be alright?”

  “Eh, he’s blown himself up a few times before. He’ll bounce back. Probably.”