An entire city had died in minutes. The property was still fine, aside from some car crashes and building fires, but somehow that made it worse. A perfect picture of everyday life in Blake’s Barrow, as portrayed by corpses. Bleak Barrow, they called it later. That was all they got from the cameras that were still running. Reporters hadn’t been able to get close enough to see more than faint specks in the sky. Some tried. After the first time, the teachers flipped to another channel whenever someone tried. And that was what happened before Endling started working. Then they got the news that Endringer and Endling were headed toward Candlelight Cove.

“And I saw them fighting it.”

Wave after wave of heroes – and even some villains – had flung themselves at the duo over the bodies of their comrades. The invincible ones lasted longer. Sometimes, the long-distance powers nearly hurt the duo. It wasn’t until Nightingale showed up that the tide turned. He still recalled the fear for her safety, and then the cheer when they realized that not only was someone winning, but it was one of their heroes.

“Afterwards… there was no more normal.”

As soon as the ship made it back to shore the next day, he’d been pulled aside and whisked away to a hospital. Lili had taken him aside and explained carefully that his Ma had gotten hurt while helping people evacuate from the city, that she wouldn’t be able to walk again, and that some of her other friends had died. He’d known and hadn’t known, both at the same time, what really happened. After all, plenty of other heroes survived, some also paralyzed, and he’d had his suspicions about what her job really was. He’d just realized that he had powers himself, and who could get that bruised from being a landscaper?

“I saw what happened without heroes.”

Crime had skyrocketed. Maybe it was because there weren’t enough heroes left to cover the city. Only a handful of Cove Corps members had survived, and even then Enmachina was forced to retire. Then again, maybe some people just didn’t feel it was worth it to hold back when any day, someone could show up and destroy them. If you could be slaughtered whether you were a king or a peasant, why not live like kings? Either way, he’d sat in the rehab center with Ma as she watched TV, doing his homework to the sound of robberies, arsons, murders.

“And… I saw what happened when ordinary people stepped up.”

His rabbi and rebbetzin had showed up the day after Nathan went to the hospital. They’d promised her that they would rally the synagogue and do what they could for her. By the time Ma made it home, her house had been modified: ramps up to the porch, stairlifts to the second floor and the basement, rails by the bed and in the shower. The home was clean, the garden was pristine, the freezer and pantry were stocked, and the cats were fed. She’d cried and promised to pay back the people who helped her, but everyone shook their heads. They were only paying it forward from the money she’d given them, the meals she’d cooked, the plants and pets she’d watered. If she wanted to do something about it, then she’d just have to pay it forward too. After all, when she’d helped them, that was what she told them to do.

He did suspect that his rebbetzin had gone directly to the Corps for some of the money, though. Stairlifts alone cost thousands of dollars and the synagogue couldn’t casually afford to spend that much money. She was clever enough to figure out who Ma was and motherly enough to guilt a bureaucracy into actually getting things done.

“So, when I figured out that my ma had been a superhero, I told her that I wanted to become one myself. My power wasn’t good for fighting, but I wanted to help people the way she’d helped them. The way she’d been helped. And she made her own suit. Not only could she keep me safe out there, but I could take on her old persona. Keep her legacy going.” Nathan smiled. “And then I turned out to suck at it.”

Angelica reached out and squeezed Nathan’s shoulder. “You don’t,” she said quietly. “You are the most dedicated hero on the team. You do everything you can. Sometimes, there are things you can’t do, yes, but you do anything you can. Over the past few years, you’ve arrested dozens of villains, helped nine people with powers out of control, and saved countless civilians. I haven’t even done that.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re doing other stuff. I’m not.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Angelica said, smiling. “I need to get you to do my paperwork.”

“Ugh,” Nathan said.

“Or maybe you need to pick up a hobby.” Angelica tapped the side of her soda can.

“I already have a hobby. I just can’t birdwatch from in here.”

“Then find another one that you can do in here. Have you considered knitting or crochet?”

“If I get any more gay, I’ll transform into a living rainbow.”

“Well, then,” Angelica said, spreading her hands. “That solves the problem, doesn’t it?”

Nathan smiled despite himself. “I’ll look into it.” He looked down at his pen. “I just hate not doing anything. I feel so useless and guilty, being able to do something and not doing it.”

“Chronic Hero Syndrome,” Angelica said. “I mean, it beats not caring at all about people. Look at Golden Star.” She grimaced. “Highly powerful, only cares about publicity. I swear, if I were his captain, I’d ship him off to Brokenpoint.”

“I’m not sure whether I’d feel more sorry for him or for the Brokenpoint Corps.” Nathan considered it. “Probably him. That crowd would just throw him into a rift and be done with him.”

“Probably,” Angelica said, slowly spinning her soda can between her hands. “In any case, have you brought this up in therapy?”

Nathan nodded. “We’ve been talking it out. There are… some things that help, but they’re not exactly things I can be doing while I’m supposed to be working.”

Angelica raised an eyebrow and picked up her soda can. After she took a sip, or tried to, she glared at it and got up to get another. “Find something you can do, then,” she said over her shoulder. “After all, if the problem is that you feel like you’re doing nothing when you should be doing something, then do something. That’s an order as your team captain, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, a bit.” He had been thinking about picking up music. Maybe the flute. That was one of the more portable instruments, wasn’t it? And it sounded nice.