The Shadow Fox reached the top of the building, puffing and gulping, his breath whooshing in and out as he fought for a bit of air. The top of the building was a flat roof covered in gravel and tar. A wall about two feet tall ran along the edge of the roof. He flung a leg over the wall and strained as he pulled himself up and over, landing a little less than gracefully on the roof top. He used to be better at this.

As he lay panting among the dark gravel, he noticed for the first time a man floating in the air above him.

“Hello, Gerald,” the floating man said. He was dressed in a red bodysuit. His boots, gloves, cape, and belt were blue. And on his chest was a large golden letter M.

“Peter,” Gerald said.

“The city seems quiet,” Peter gazed out at Garrison. He seemed to watch everything in view, which for him—Gerald knew—was a few hundred miles.

“From up there maybe,” Gerald said, pulling himself to his feet.

“Up here?” Peter looked confused.

“Oh come now, Peter. Sometimes the legendary Captain Might has to come out of the sky once in a while if he wants to see what really goes on below him.”

A hurt looked crawled across Peter’s face. Gerald could almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

“The city is restless,” Gerald continued. “You’d feel it yourself if you’d ever deem to come down to my level.”

“Gerald,” Peter began, but Gerald just continued to talk right over him.

“Something’s up tonight. The Down Boys are planning something,” Gerald walked over to the wall at the edge of the roof. “I noticed a group of them gathering behind Ralph’s Pawn Shop on the way over.”

“We need to talk.” Peter tried to change the subject. Gerald hadn’t noticed.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Gerald continued. “You hit them high, I’ll hit them low. They’ll all be in prison by dawn.”

“You remember that night during the war,” Peter said, as if Gerald hadn’t spoken. “The night we made a visit to the boys in Bastogne?”

“What’re you on about?”

“We just wanted to raise their spirits, remember?” Peter continued to gaze into the distance.

“Of course I remember. Why are you bringing that up now?”

“There wasn’t much we could do for the boys.”

“You could have taken Bastogne by yourself.”

“True. God knows I wanted to. But by the time we’d arrived the men had already been there for nearly a week. They were dug in. Lieutenant Liberty told me to stay out of it.” Peter smiled at the memory. “She’d said that the boys had their pride. They’d lasted that long, they were going all the way.”

“I remember.”

“Of course,” Peter said. “The very next day, General Patton and his boys showed up and helped turn the tide.”

“What’s this all about, Peter? The Down Boys won’t just stand around all night.”

Peter floated down, his feet making contact with the roof.

“I’m tired, Gerald,” said Peter with a sigh, taking a seat on the wall.

“Tired?” Gerald said, joining friend. “You? The man with the power of a thousand bull elephants!?”

“We weren’t needed in Bastogne,” Peter said. He looked at the ground, kicking a few of the gravel pieces around. “And we aren’t needed here.”

“What’re you on about? Of course we’re needed here. The Down Boys—” but Peter cut him off.

“Someone else can look after the city for a change. Your protégé seems to have a good handle on things.”

“Walter!?” Gerald shot to his feet. “Are you barking!? That boy couldn’t handle an umbrella on a sunny afternoon!”

“You don’t give him enough credit. He’s perfectly capable of protecting the city without you and me.”

“What’s going on here, Peter? What are you trying to say?”

Peter was silent for a moment. He looked up from the gravel on the roof, looked Gerald in the eyes, then stood and turned to gaze out at the city again before speaking.

“I’m retiring.”

“Retiring?” Gerald laughed. “Captain Might is going to retire. You’re having me on.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Gerald. I’ve been fighting for over seventy years now. I’m done.”

“Done?”

“Done.”

“Are you completely mental?”

“This is no joke, Gerald. It’s over. I’m over. You may want to think about coming with me.”

“Coming with you?” Gerald laughed again.

“Come with me. Retire. You’re getting a little long in the tooth, old friend.”

“So you say,” Gerald said, anger rising in his voice.

“I do say. Tell me, how long did it take you to climb up here?”

“You sound like an old woman, you do.”

“How long did it take you to climb this building?”

“I got up here, I did! That’s all that matters!”

“Gerald,” Peter said, his voice calm and steady. “Your mind is still as sharp and brilliant as ever. But your body…”

Gerald returned to the wall at the edge of the roof, sat down, and placed his head in his hands.

“I don’t deserve this. To be treated like this,” he said quietly to himself.

“Gerald, please.”

“I’m the Shadow Fox.”

“Gerald. You’re my closest friend. We’re practically brothers. I can’t do this alone.”

“Brothers!?” Gerald shot to his feet, thrusting a finger into Peter’s chest. “You selfish bastard! You have the powers of a god! A GOD! You have responsibilities to this planet and you want to quit!”

“Gerald.” Peter put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“No!” Shadow Fox slapped the hand away. “How dare you?! How dare you walk away from this city?! These people?!”

“I need something more, Gerald.”

“More? What else could you possibly want?”

“I’ve met someone.”

“I should have known,” Gerald threw his hands into the air. “I should have known a woman was involved.”

“Gerald.”

“Who is she?”

“It’s not important who she is.”

“Is she a Mighty like you and I?”

“No, she’s a Normal.”

“And so, for her, you’re going to leave the good people of this city—the world—to fend for themselves?”

“Gerald, I love her. I’m ready to start a family. I want to start a family.”

“Then start a family. You don’t have to hang up the cape, Peter.”

“I think I do. You know the demands that this lifestyle puts on us. I can’t be away all the time. It’s not fair to her. I can’t put myself in danger like I do. I would have to be there for my family… for Cecilia.”

“So you’re just going to give it all up then,” Gerald had turned back to the city, his head down.

“Yes,” Peter said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I have to. I need to.” He let out a sigh. “It’s time, Gerald.”

Gerald stood silent, looking out at the city. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sounds of crime. Car alarms, police sirens, a scream, the high klaxon of a bank alarm… the city needed him.

Without warning, Gerald spun and slammed his fist into Peter’s face with such force that it would have punched through a car door.

It didn’t faze Peter, not in a physical sense.

“How can you be so selfish?” Shadow Fox screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “You have all this power, all this… this… might! And you chose to turn your back on it? I’d give anything for even a fraction of your power!”

Tears streamed from under Gerald’s mask. “Good Lord, Peter. If I had just a little of what you have, I could continue. I could do so much for this city. Just a little. That’s all I need,” his voice was almost pleading.

“I’m sorry Gerald,” Peter’s voice cracked with sorrow. “You aren’t ready for that kind of power.”

Gerald didn’t know what else to do, what else to say. All he could do was stare at his friend, his brother, as the two stood in silence. It didn’t last long, that moment of quiet, as the sound of sirens erupted from below. Garrison’s finest, doing their duty. Just as he should be doing.

“You can go to Hell, Peter Pembleton,” Gerald whispered, his voice cold and empty. “This city doesn’t need you.”

The Shadow Fox turned his back on Captain Might and retrieved a thin, black, rope-line from the belt at his back, beneath the cape. Attached to the line was a steel grappling hook, the size of a baby’s fist, its three sharpened barbed points folded inward. With a flick of his wrist, the barbed points snapped into place with an audible click and he began to spin the line in a tight circle before flinging it out into the night to connect with another building.

“I don’t need you,” the Shadow Fox said, his back to his friend. Then, without another word, he leapt from atop the Kent Building and swung out into the night.

Peter remained on the roof of the Kent Building for a full ten minutes. He stood stoic, weeping silently. He knew in his heart that he had done the right thing, and he hoped that one day Gerald would see it as well. Then maybe, just maybe, Gerald would be able to give Peter the only thing he would ever need.

Forgiveness.