I'm awoken early the following morning by a phone call from Delta.

I was only half unconscious, I ended up falling asleep pretty late last night and it doesn't appear as though I had time to get anything of quality. Either way, I'm awake enough to answer it.

I fall back after retrieving it, pressing the green button.

"Delta?"

"We're fucked, Sunny. We're absolutely fucked if we don't find a way to utilize this."

The sun is barely over the horizon. Why is she freaking out? Is the news reporting on us again? This mission wasn't nearly as successful as our last one though, we were literally ambushed. Still, she sounds beyond freaked out.

"Why? What's going on?" I ask her, mildly alarmed at the urgency in her voice. Delta tends to exaggerate a lot, but she's still taking this much more seriously than usual. I can hear it in her voice, and I can only assume what's on the news.

We've officially put ourselves on the government's radar. If they weren't after us before, they absolutely are now.

"It's all over the news. People are freaking the hell out. Just watch, it doesn't matter what channel."

Alright, now I'm alarmed. What's all over the news? Our break in? Why are people freaking out so much? I only just woke up, I don't have the mental capacity for this. Something tells me Delta never even fell asleep at all.

"Okay," I sigh, deciding that's fair. It'll give me a second to wake up, too, before I'm bombarded with detailed descriptions of everything wrong with the world. AKA: the news

"Wait! Before you go, quick question." She cuts in before I can press the red button, which I was about to do. I stop myself though, letting the woman talk while I blink up at my ceiling. My hands are bare because of course they are, I just woke up, and I feel the need to cover them when I feel the cool air of my apartment hit the skin there. I'm too lazy to get out of bed, though.

"Toward the end, when I couldn't find you, I was freaking out and I called you Sunny instead of Ex. I need you to tell me if you know whether or not Clover could have heard me."

Clover.

All the memories from last night come back, ruining my groggy bliss. I'm already growing more and more awake at a rapid pace, but that gets my attention. His face, his smile, his pain, and... his skin. Skin I was able to touch. He survived me.

Then, I'm reminded of the condition I left him in.

I don't remember the specifics of what she's talking about to be honest, but she did mention that it was toward the end. I highly doubt Clover was picking up on much of anything toward the end, since I basically gutted him like a deer. He did see my face, though, which is stressful and alarming even though I can't do much about it now. I'm relying quite a bit on him losing his memory, to be honest, but I highly doubt he heard Delta refer to me by name through my tiny earpiece either way. It would've been so quiet, and he was on the floor.

If he did hear, though... that would be bad. Sunny Wells the business owner, and he's seen my face. It would not take much to find me. I'd be at the top of search results.

"No. I think he was already bleeding out on the floor by then." I notify the girl, hearing her huff a laugh that doesn't have much humor to it. Just stress. What is such a big deal? Again, this job wasn't nearly as successful as the last one. Why does it sound like the public is freaking out? They weren't so scared last time.

"We're laying low for a while," Delta notifies me, which I'm thankful for. I mean, just about everyone told her that was a bad idea. Maybe she's just beating herself up and wants some time. Or maybe whatever backlash we got really is that rough. "Just turn on the TV. Seriously. I'll call you again soon."

The line goes dead, and I stare at the wall for about 45 seconds. Then, the conversation catches up with me and I drag myself out of bed. I head to my living room still in a slight haze, covering myself in a blanket since I'm too lazy to put on any sort of proper cover this early, a ball of dread in my gut. I don't know what I'm expecting, all I know is that if I think too hard, my mind is a hurricane. If I close my eyes I see my hand on his face. I see his skin, flawless, right after I pulled it away.

I stand in the dead center of the room, grabbing my remote and turning on the TV. Sure enough it's already on the news, and sure enough, they're talking about last night. They're talking about Monarch.

However, most of all, they're focusing on... me and Clover. Not Monarch, not the DVA. Us specifically. "—with Silver Sphere, who was the first to find previously undefeated top hero Clover in critical condition this morning after a hidden battle with Monarch's infamous Executioner—"

There's only one person on this station, a woman who has a deeply intense expression on her face. Sad. Angry. Also...

Watery eyes.

I've never seen a news anchor cry before.

"We have people currently at the scene, but we'll show some footage from a couple hours ago—fresh after the incident for those who are just tuning in this morning..." The woman leaves off, hardly keeping herself together. The screen cuts to footage of the outside of a hospital, the back doors of an ambulance opening up and an absolutely insane amount of paramedics and EMTs rushing out.

They have a gurney, one with a large person on it, though they're covered fully by a sheet, not even a face showing. I already know it's Clover, the size an the way the camera pans as they rush him toward the ER gives that away pretty plainly, though I don't see his typical glow. That's not good.

Clover's covered in a sheet, but said sheet is thoroughly soaked with blood. Pretty much everywhere it touches his body. I almost wonder if the sheet itself is actually red.

Her words catch up with me. Critically injured.

My heart drops.

They medical personnel reach the doors of the hospital as paparazzi take pictures and a girl tries to follow them inside. They push Clover through and out of sight as they presumably take him deeper into the hospital. As they prepare to perform life saving surgery.

0 percent chance I can kill him. That's what he told me. He'll be fine.

Why do I care so much?

Someone grabs the girl before she can run in after him, and I watch her struggle and reach as a large man  holds her back with little effort. The guy is quite tall and vaguely familiar for whatever reason. Maybe he did something important, somewhere down the line.

The man pulls her into his arms, and judging by the fluffy purple curls, I can only assume the girl is related to Clover. The man comforts her, talks to her and rubs her shoulder.

Then, I notice another person. Another man, this one also with purple hair, so I'll assume he's also related to Clover. He glows just like Clover does, though one thing I don't expect is the pure rage on his face. He looks beyond pissed, but there's a fear to it. He's in the middle of yelling at a paramedic and pointing in the general direction they just took Clover.

This must be Clover's family.

Clover's sister is sobbing. She has the main focus. Absolutely inconsolable. Her entire body trembles and heaves, face buried in her dad's chest.

I feel my hands shaking. I fold them together so they stop.

The camera pans away from the distraught family and instead decides to focus on the distraught crowd. The people swarmed around the hospital are visibly in distress. Some are crying, some are covering their kid's eyes, some with their hands over their mouths in disbelief and a lot of anger.

Because of what I did.

His parents are terrified. The public is devastated. I made his sister cry.

I change to a different channel. It's no use.

"—even if it is a shock. He is still our number one hero, our symbol of hope. One loss means nothing, I'm sure Clover will have that monster off the streets in no time once he is back on his feet. For now, the best we can do is take care of him and his family until this horrific nightmare is finally over."

"Absolutely. But The Executioner specifically is a serious problem. He's who we should be focusing on, here. I mean, this guy is called The Executioner. As far as I'm concerned, Clover's just as lucky as he's ever been. He's alive."

I flip the channel again.

"—I mean it's absolutely outrageous, this is getting out of hand. Why on earth are they still walking free? When will the authorities finally take these people seriously? They've more than proven themselves."

"I'll say. Then again, it's not like we have much better than the Wolfe prodigal son. My prediction is that it will take multiple heroes to take Monarch and its executioner down. I just hope the city is ready." A clean shaven man with a solemn look on his face remarks. All these channels are the same. People talking, arguing, some crying, and a few photos and closeups of me.

I think about my aunt. Gutierrez. Christine.

No, that's wrong. I'm not thinking about them, I'm thinking of all the people who were horrified at my aunt's condition. All the people who tried to help her. Gutierrez's partner, inconsolable and sobbing and calling in officer down. Christine, ruffling my hair. Christine, dropping. The horrified, devastated guards who found us.

I feel sick.

That's the one part of killing people that I've never been able to make myself immune to. I'll never be numb to mourning. I'll never be able to handle the reactions of the loved ones. I can't hear a shattered, heartbroken mother wail and just... feel nothing.

It's then that I realize, I'm no better than the news anchor. The crowd. His sister. My eyes are watering.

I shut the TV off, because that's just too much for me.

I reach up to cover my face with shaking hands, clenching my eyes shut and trying to get all these images out of my head. Clover, blood leaking out of his mouth as the red substance ran down my blades and dripped from my fingers.

The look on his face right before I left. Right before he collapsed. Pain and some sort of twisted, delirious fascination.

And now, the crowd. The children crying, the adults in no better shape.

The looks on his family's faces.

I can't help the way I'm trembling. I hate this. I hate the aftermath. I can handle taking the life of someone who is loved, even if it sucks.

I can reason out murder in self defense. I can move on.

I can't justify making someone's sister sob outside an ER.

I shake my head, wiping at my eyes and deciding to distract myself by taking care of my fish and preparing the shop to open. I need to avoid the news today, it's just going to stress me out. Make me feel guilty. Maybe I should, maybe I deserve that.

I do just that. I ignore the media for the day, but that doesn't matter, because it's all they will talk about. Speculation about me, calls for a manhunt, and mourning their star hero who finally lost. Some are even in denial, calling it a hoax.

Clover is discharged from the hospital after three days, which is absolutely insane to me. They must have had a healer. Then again, I've never even heard of a healer who could mend that level of damage in such a short time. Still, whatever, I'll take what I can get. I can't help my relief.

Another week goes by.