I was discharged from the hospital later that day. Turns out my healing was good enough to speed up the recovery time, go figure.

  Putting weight on my right leg was still painful though, so the hospital gave me a crutch in case I needed it for support. The doctor actually provided some insight into my healing that I’d not realised.

  “People with any kind of self-healing ability, their bodies tend to use up far more calories in order to accelerate their abilities.” He’d said to Dad and I after Angelo had gone. “I’ve seen it for years; generally, the more calories in your system, the better and faster you heal. Your problem was that when you had arrived, you were on the verge of malnourishment, likely due to how much of your body you had to heal.”

  I’d held up my left arm, which now had those long, white scars running from my elbow all the way to my fingertips.

  “S-so will these fade?” I’d asked.

  “Most likely not. But it shouldn’t affect your ability to use that arm.” He’d answered, smiling.

  I’d just looked at them. Permanent reminders of last night, seared into my skin.

  “So, if you do end up going into a big fight like that - not that I’d recommend it, of course,” he’d laughed, which did not go down well with Dad, “Then eat a lot more before you do, if you can plan for it.”

  Downtown, Meritas City. September 23rd, 2014, 19:55PM

  The drive back from the hospital was quiet.

  The choice I’d been given - becoming a “Special Case” or facing jail time for taking down Slaughterhouse - hung in my mind the entire time. I didn’t say much; mostly just spent the car ride staring out the window, looking out into the streets of Meritas, going over and over in my head.

  Honestly, you wouldn’t have thought that Slaughterhouse had been here recently. While there was definitely a slight tension to the streets here and chatter on the radio, people were otherwise still about doing their business; different kinds of superheroes were doing patrols alongside more mundane policemen, many of them talking to random citizens. Granted, we were currently going through Downtown, nowhere near the Rustbank.

  But eventually, the city changed; away from the Zero Block and Downtown, and going towards Eastmarch, the docks of the city overlooking the East Coast, where Elena lived.

  Every so often I’d turn to her in the back of the car. She spent most of the drive back fast asleep; couldn’t blame her, between last night and waiting for me to wake up she’d been going pretty much non-stop since we met up.

  Again there was that stab of anxious guilt in the centre of my chest, that I’d worried her, worried Dad. Neither of them should have seen me in that state, we should’ve just run the second Slaughterhouse showed her face.

  But, unfortunately, I couldn’t change it.

  “-and what about this mysterious hero that took down Slaughterhouse last night?” suddenly crackled over the radio.

  I immediately perked up, my head turning fast to listen.

  I saw Dad twitch, his hand going to change stations, but he turned to me.

  “You want me to turn it down, Skye?” He asked.

  “No.” I answered, quicker than either of us were expecting. I could see him give me a look of concern, but he obliged as I listened in.

  “Now this person is almost certainly an unregistered vigilante, right?” one of the hosts - an older gentleman with what sounded like a heavy Southern-accent asked with a chuckle.

  The second voice, a younger-sounding woman, responded. “That’s the best guess, Hank. I mean, it looks like they were dressed in old beaten-up biker gear, hardly official.”

  I winced. That ‘old beaten-up biker gear’ was Mom’s. Dad had taken it and put it in the trunk of the car, but it was in a bad state after last night, with tears running all across it and the helmet cracked and dented.

  “Being a potential vigilante aside,” the first host said, “They did take down Slaughterhouse. Hell, they did what some of The Union’s best and brightest couldn’t. I heard that young girl Glory, the Young Defenders’ so-called ‘shining star’ was there too.”

  “The Union and the Young Defenders need to get their act together, sure.” The second host retorted. “But, that doesn’t mean we should be praising this unlicen-”

  Dad pressed a button on the radio, quickly switching it to some pop radio station.

  “Enough of that, I think.” He said, smiling but clearly annoyed by what they were saying.

  Despite that, I felt a weird twist in my gut. Pride? Guilt, maybe? Whatever it was, it made me feel sick. People were talking about me already.

  We eventually crossed over into Eastmarch, driving across the coastline. The docks here were always busy, with there being all kinds of boats docked up here - from transporters, to smaller and personal yachts and speedboats. A couple of large battleships were stationed a half-mile away from the shoreline, floating there like impassable walls.

  Eventually, Elena stirred awake, stretching. She quickly looked around, seemingly realising where we were.

  “Oh, uh, Mister Williams? Are you ok to drop me off nearby? Left here, then right?”

  After a bit of navigating through the traffic, we came to stop. It was a…less nice part of the city, just away from the docks proper and closer to some older warehouses. Nowhere near as bad as the Rustbank, but still rough; a lot of the apartment buildings here looked damaged, or at least not well-maintained.

  “You sure you’re gonna be ok, Elena?” Dad asked, turning to look at her. I could see he looked genuinely concerned, leaving her here.

  Elena waved her hand as if trying to brush his worries away. “It’s cool, I’ll be fine. Know this place like the back of my hand. Was lovely to meet you!”

  He smiled back. “You too, kiddo.”

  She then turned to me. “Well, see you around, Skye.” She gave me a soft smile.

  There was so much I wanted to ask:

  ‘When can we next hang out?’

  ‘Will we hang out again?’

  ‘Can you just stay a bit longer?’

  But instead all that came out was a shaky “Y-yeah, you too.”

  She scoffed once, still smiling, then hopped out of the car before waving us off, quickly disappearing round the corner.

  I felt myself sink back into my seat. Whatever energy was keeping me upright felt like it was sapped right out of me, it felt almost like I deflated into the seat.

  I felt Dad squeeze my shoulder before the car started up again.

  Within the next hour we got back home. Dad immediately got to hauling stuff from the back of the car. I tried to help, but he just told me to head inside.

  I pulled out the crutch they’d given me, using it to hold myself up as we walked. I went in first, the crutch clacking, as dad trailed behind me with the bits from the car; once we got into the apartment, he put them down near the couch and stretched.

  “Right, ok.” He said, before looking at me. “You take a seat, I’ll be back in a second, then we can talk, ok?”

  My stomach lurched. There it was, the thing I’d been dreading. He patted me on the shoulder as he stepped into the kitchen, leaving me to slowly sink into the dining room chair. Again, the events of last night spiralled through my head, but at the same time I was desperately trying to grasp what I would even say.

  It felt like I was trying to concoct the perfect explanation in my head, the exact string of words that would make what I said feel completely sane and justified and make Dad let me off the hook without a worry. But every time I thought about what to say, I realised that, fundamentally, that “perfect explanation” didn’t exist.

  What I had done was brave and heroic, sure, but it was also reckless, and borderline-suicidal.

  I stewed in my own mind, trying not to completely lose it, as well as fighting that instinct to just get up and run. But I owed Dad an explanation. I took a few breaths - in-two-three, pause, out-two-three - trying to calm my frantic nerves.

  After a few minutes, I heard dad walk back from the kitchen. He placed a mug down in front of me - full of hot cocoa based on the smell, which was something he always made whenever we had to have a serious talk, good and bad - before placing another mug at his own seat and sitting opposite me.

  Then, silence. A long, painful silence. I don’t think I moved at all for a good minute, I didn’t even meet Dad’s eyes; just stared blankly down at the table.

  “So,” Dad finally said, his voice gentle. “Tell me what happened last night.”

  I felt my heart jump again, that same tension still firm in my chest.

  “I-I uh… We- We uh-” My voice died in my mouth. I was trying to say something, but words just kept catching; there was so much I wanted to say all at once.

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  “Skye, look at me.” Dad said, his voice a bit more firm. Slowly, I looked up at him, slightly freaking out over what I thought I’d see.

  “Take your time, ok? Take a breath if you need to.”

  He still didn't look angry, as far as I could tell. I couldn’t understand it. He definitely looked more somber than normal, but he still looked at me with that same warmth he always did.

  I nodded slowly, taking a sip from the cocoa. It helped, made me feel a bit less frayed and shaky. Even so, I could feel my left leg bouncing.

  “S-so uh, you remember after I g-got rejected?” I managed, my voice quiet.

  Dad just nodded.

  “I s-spoke to Elena on the ph-phone and she asked t-to meet up; that was the next day.”

  Did I tell him this was Elena’s idea? If I did, would he stop me from seeing her?

  “We uh, t-talked and…” I swallowed, nervous. “Sh-she’d been rejected too…”

  I saw Dad lean back in his chair, still looking at me, nodding slowly. I kept looking away and then back to Dad as I talked, half-wanting to see how he reacted but also half-not wanting to.

  “S-she said that she thought she - and I guess I - g-got rejected because of our powers. We’ve both got g-gross powers, a-and one of the other kids in the tryout said as much to me.” I rambled, the memory of Leeroy flashing in my brain as he’d looked positively sick at me.

  “So you and her hit it off?”

  “Y-yeah.” I replied almost immediately. “Sh-she’s really nice, didn’t feel like there was any j-judgement from her like there was from other people.”

  “So then, how did this lead into last night?”

  I took a deep, shaky breath, taking another sip. This was the part I’d been dreading.

  “S-so uh…s-she said that maybe we could do hero stuff in an…in an unoff- unoffici-” I stopped, the words catching again.

  I took another breath. “If we could do hero stuff unofficially.”

  Dad sighed, leaning back again, staring up at the ceiling for a moment while he was trying to process everything. “...Okay, so the vigilante stuff was her idea.”

  There was no way I was going to lie to Dad, so I just nodded.

  “And you wore the costume we made from your mother’s gear?” He asked, bristling.

  “Y-Yeah but I-” I said, stammering. “Sh-she didn’t make me do it..”

  Now it was his turn to take a sip before exhaling. He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

  “Then what?”

  “I uh…met Elena on Wayward Places. O-On the roof.”

  I took a breath, then started again. “T-then there was a robbery nearby and we uh, i-intervened.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “You ‘intervened’?”

  “I mean, uh…we ran in, s-stopped them. A couple of them had powers too, so I g-got hurt a bit.” I said, holding up my left arm.

  “Wait, so that wasn’t Slaughterhouse that did that to you?”

  I shook my head. “T-this wasn’t. Just everything else w-was.” I said, laughing nervously. Dad, unfortunately, didn’t laugh along with me. I could see him getting more agitated as he looked at my arm, the scars running down it, then at the rest of me; I know I had a few bruises all across my body that were still healing, some of them on my face and neck.

  “So you dealt with this robbery and…what?”

  I sighed. “We left, tried to find a place to relax. Then…Slaughterhouse happened. W-we tried to run away but she kind of…crashed into us.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

  “I-I don’t k-know.” I said, sounding more defensive than I should have. “We g-got the alarm and tried to get back as soon as possible but then she sort of just, uh…landed in a building near us.”

  Dad was just staring. Not even at me, just ahead. He was clearly still trying to process it.

  I kept going. “A-and then everything else. G-Glory appeared, then got hurt, and that was when-” I stopped. How in the hell did I explain what happened next?

  “When you what?”

  I sighed. “When I p-punched Slaughterhouse in the face.” I thought that allowing time to pass would make that sound less ridiculous but nope, still sounded as insane as when I did it.

  Dad’s face was a look of complete shock, it looked like his eyes were about to bug right out of his head.

  “You punched her in the face?” He asked, in sheer disbelief. “You, you specifically, punched Slaughterhouse, one of the country’s biggest monsters, in the face?”

  I nodded, fidgeting with the inside of my sleeve.

  “Why?” Dad asked, whatever anger and worry he had before was replaced with sheer confusion.

  “S-She was killing people, Dad. A-And then she was hurting Glory. N-Nobody else was helping her, so it might as well have been me.”

  Dad groaned, pressing his hands against his face. He let out a muffled breath, before he let out a dry, joyless laugh.

  “God, you are just like your mother.”

  Then he went quiet. He looked like he was holding something back. His jaw clenched, hands tightening around the mug.

  “You nearly died, Skye!” He snapped, louder than I expected. It made me jump in my chair.

  “When I saw the alert that Slaughterhouse was here, I tried to call you. Nothing.” His voice was sharper now. “I got back here, and you weren’t here. I was terrified, Skye! If you hadn’t been with Elena I wouldn’t have even known you were alive!”

  “D-Dad I’m sorry, I didn’t want to get involved with Slaughterhouse.”

  “I know you didn’t want to, Skye, but you still did. The robbery is bad enough, but when Slaughterhouse appeared you should have run, you and Elena should have run and-”

  “We tried, Dad!” I shouted, louder than I was expecting. “W-we tried to run before Glory got there, but Slaughterhouse killed so many people!”

  Silence again. I was panting, that fear in my chest felt white-hot, and I could feel tears bubbling in the corners of my eyes.

  “I just don’t want to lose you, and I almost did last night.” Dad said, clearly trying to keep himself even-tempered, but the crack in his voice betrayed him; I could see tears building up in his eyes too.

  “D-Dad I’m sorry. I k-know I shouldn’t have gone out but I just-” I could feel myself starting to lose what little composure was left. “Y-You know t-that I want to be a hero like Mom, m-more than anything, and it felt like the only way-”

  My throat locked up, the words stopped. I felt myself come apart. Tears started streaming down my face; I tried to keep on speaking but I felt myself get choked up, and just started sobbing.

  Dad watched me fall apart. He wanted to say something, but didn’t have the words. He just stood up and came to me, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

  “I know, kiddo, I know.”

  Eventually, I managed to calm myself down enough to stop sobbing. It felt good, I had to admit; felt like I’d been bottling everything up since I’d woken up.

  “I know you want to be a Hero like she was, even though what she did was so, so dangerous.”

  He took a breath, trying to steady himself.

  “You’re so much like her, y’know; she’s the only other person I know who’d have the balls to do what you did. Hell, if she was still here, she’d be celebrating.”

  I laughed, but I didn’t fully believe him about me being like Mom. I honestly didn’t remember much of her, mostly flashes and feelings; her wide, toothy grin filled with razor-sharp teeth; her unshakeable confidence like she had everything under control. Just being near her had made me feel safe as a kid.

  But me, I was a neurotic, shaky mess. I didn’t have that confidence, that presence that she had.

  “I’m sorry I yelled, Skye.” Dad said, pulling away, one arm staying at my shoulder. “I just…I want you to know that even though what you did was insane, I’m so, so proud of you. You said you felt worthless after being rejected, but what you did last night? That’s the kind of thing heroes do.”

  “Just, please,” He added, with a crooked grin, “don’t go punching monsters like that in the face again, promise?”

  I wiped my face and gave him the smallest smile I could manage. “P-Promise.”

  “Look at the plus side,” he said with a bit of a grin, clearly trying to defuse some of the tension. “Slaughterhouse gave you an in.”

  I half-choked, half-laughed.

  Then I paused.

  “S-so wait,” I asked. “You’re going to let me join the Special Case program?”

  Dad sighed. “If you don’t, you’re looking at jail time, so you’re really twisting my arm on this one.”

  I grimaced. He had a point.

  “But…don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I guess.” He shrugged.

  I felt a smile creep across my face. “D-Dad I- T-Thank you…”

  “But,” he added, “Some conditions:”

  Oh no.

  “First, you’re not living there. You’ll have to live at home with me, at least for now. Maybe that changes.”

  I nodded. That wasn’t anything I intended on doing.

  “Second, keep in contact as often as possible. Keep your phone on and charged, ‘cos I will be checking in on you.”

  I nodded, slower. More annoying, but fair.

  “And third: for the love of God, please do not throw yourself into another life-or-death situation.”

  I grimaced.

  “Y-yeah, of course.”

  Dad smiled. I stood up and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.

  “I’ll call that ‘Angelo’ asshole, let him know. Before I do, you want some food?”

  Almost as if on cue my stomach growled.

  “Y-yeah I guess so.” I answered, smiling.

  Dad laughed, grabbing his phone and stepping into the kitchen. I heard him speaking to Angelo over the phone, but honestly aside from something to the effect of “Skye accepts”, I wasn’t listening. I moved onto the couch and just sunk into it, letting myself breathe. For the first time since last night, I didn’t feel like I was on the verge of falling apart.

  Now it was time for whatever came next.

  I was knocked out of my thoughts by a buzzing in my pocket: my phone.

  Three messages from Elena were waiting for me:

  21:20

  u doin ok

  21:30

  hello

  21:45

  gess still talkin 2 dad

  I tapped on one, responding:

  Sorry, I’m ok. Talked to dad a lot.

  Went better than i thought it would go

  We talked, cried

  I said sorry a lot

  nice

  ur dad seems nice

  u doin ok?

  I think so.

  How did the talk with your parents go?

  they chill

  Really? With what happened with Slaughterhouse?

  Or did you only tell them about the robbery

  i said they chill

  what did your dad say about the special case

  He was ok with it eventually. Are you going for it?

  maybe

  “‘Maybe’?” I said out loud, now a lot more worried. Was she going to just …not go? Leave me behind to take it on alone?

  It buzzed again.

  are u

  I just sat there, a thousand thoughts running through my head.

  What if I say yes and she says no?

  What if I say no to see what she does?

  No you idiot that’s stupid.

  Why isn’t she saying if she is?

  Because she asked you first?

  Just say yes!

  I frantically typed out and sent a Yes, before launching my phone to the other end of the couch. I didn’t want to look at it, didn’t want to think about it; I was still thinking about it anyway.

  That lasted all of about thirty seconds before I grabbed the phone again. I turned it on cautiously, almost like it was an angry animal that I was trying to get to not bite me; as the message loaded, all I saw was a single:

  same

  I exhaled, letting out a massive sigh of relief. Thank God that I wasn’t doing this alone, but with a friend.

  A friend? I thought to myself. Been a while since I’d had someone I’d considered a friend, and it was someone I’d known for less than a full week.

  But that was nice. She was nice, and it felt nice to be around her.

  Hopefully she feels the same way.

  After Dad and I ate, I stepped up to my room, shutting the door behind me. I let out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight fall from my shoulders, finally.

  I stepped into the bathroom, catching a glance at myself in the mirror. My hair was always wild and curly, but now it was messy and looked like I’d survived an explosion. I could see small scars above my eyes, and there were still the faint remnants of bruises on my shoulders and jaw.

  I stared at myself, like I was trying to figure something out.

  The feelings of last night came roaring back. The crack of my fist against Slaughterhouse’s jaw. Saving Elena. Finally ramming my arm through Slaughterhouse’s chest.

  The same shy, nervous wreck of a girl stared back at me, plus some breaks and bruises. But despite that, I felt different than I had the night before, before I’d stepped out as a vigilante. There was a warmth in my chest, like someone had sparked a fire inside me.

  I still felt anxious, sure - I don’t think there’d be a time where I wouldn’t - but I felt different.

  I traced a line down one of the healed cuts with a finger, thinking about last night, and the possible future. One single thought came into crystal-clear focus.

  Maybe I can be a hero like Mom.