2019.

He reminded Gracie of the older male gorilla she’d seen at the Titan City Zoo as a kid. “Silverback,” they called him. Now there was a name for a superhero, maybe a middle-aged one. 

But that was just how Hank looked. His head was shaved in a buzz cut, making a thin crown of gray around his head. His shoulders were rounded, as if tired from the years of carrying around all his bulk. He still had muscles aplenty, that was for sure, but a heavy belly as well. Gracie remembered the same kind of belly on the silverback. 

As a little girl, when she saw that ape behind the glass, even with its gray hair and fat belly, she knew it was a monster, strong enough to tear apart everyone around if it felt like it. She got just that same feeling from Hank, only there wasn’t any glass between them.

When they didn’t move, Hank repeated himself. “I said, no.”

Kevin said, “Hank, please…” but he was cut off.

“I don’t want your help,” Hank said, the resolution in his eyes as hard as the concrete walls around them. “I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t understand…”

“No.”

Two generations of Crimson Wraiths stood locked in a stalemate. It wasn’t something Gracie could have imagined. 

The differences between them were stark — Kevin with his wealth and sophistication, Hank full of conviction and raw strength. Both had fought the same mission on Titan City streets, both defenders of the defenseless.  

Kevin was floundering though. In his mask and cloak, Gracie couldn’t imagine someone more cunning and competent. There was no crimefighter gadgetry to overcome Hank’s obstinance. He needed help.

Steven saw it too.

“Mr. Mills,” he said, with an almost soothing purr to his voice. “I believe you might misunderstand why we are here…”

“I’m sorry,” said Hank. “I know you’re trying to be nice, Stephen. You’re a good guy. But you know what happened. I can’t be out there.” His eyes flicked to the door, and Gracie saw something she didn’t expect from a monster his size — fear.  

Kevin wasn’t giving up, though. Gracie figured not-giving-up was part of what it took to be a hero.  

“Hank, if you’d just listen…” he said.

“I did what I did,” Hank shouted. The walls echoed with the boom. “Now, I get what I got. That’s justice. That’s what we do.”

And that was all Gracie could take. 

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up and listen for one goddamn second?”

Hank turned his eyes to her. Gracie felt their intensity like a fist but didn’t flinch. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

There was no threat in his tone. Gracie hadn’t thought there would be. Growing up to the screams of her parents’ drunken fights, she had become a connoisseur of raised voices. She heard again in Hank’s shout the fear that flashed in his eyes. 

“I’m Gracie.”

“Hello, Gracie. I’m Hank.”

“Hi, Hank.”

“Why are you here?” 

“Why am I here?”

“Yeah, what do you have to do with this?”

“I’m here because these guys helped me, and now they need help. So, I’m here to help them get it.”

He pointed a finger at Kevin. “You know what he does?”

“I do,” she said. “I know it’s something you used to do. And I also know it’s something I want to do.”

Hank shook his head slowly. “Better think about that. You gotta ask yourself if that’s going to get you where you want to be.”

Something in the way his gaze met hers made Gracie feel like she could be real with him. This guy also spoke the language of no-bullshit. 

“I’ll be honest with you, I don’t have a fucking clue where it’s going to get me. But I didn’t have any idea I’d be here now. And I like being here a fuckton more than where I used to be. 

“I wasn’t really living for anything, just out there surviving. With these guys, though, things look different. Like, I might be good for something. I can help people. I can make bad things better. And from what they tell me, that’s what you did too.”

He looked away from Gracie, answering with a small shrug of his massive frame. “Tried to.”

“Okay, cool. You tried to. Hell, that right there is about a thousand percent more than most people in the world.”

“Didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, sure. I can see that. It’s why you’re here. And, hey, if you want to be left alone, I’m sure we can do that, right?” 

She looked over to Kevin. He nodded. 

Was the gratitude on his face something heroes get to see on a regular basis from the people they rescue? If so, that was going to be pretty damn nice. 

“We don’t want to take you out of here if you don’t want to leave,” Kevin said.

Finally, the light bulb switched on for Hank. “You… don’t?

Stephen said, “I know the pain you are carrying, my friend. No one else can tell you how to carry it.”

“Then, what do you want?”

“Well, Hank,” said Gracie, “there’s been a murder. Edward…”

“Edward? No! No…” 

So the elder Crimson Wraith had meant a lot to him too. Gracie felt a twinge of jealousy that she had just missed out on meeting him

“No,” Hank said again. “Murdered?”

Stephen wore a mask of quiet tears.“It’s true, Hank. Eddie has been murdered.” His voice choked with a sob. “Somebody killed him.”

“Who?”

Kevin answered, “We don’t know. But we thought maybe you would. Evidence from the crime scene suggests that Edward’s killer might have recognized you from the photographs Edward kept on his refrigerator.”

“He had a picture of me?”

“He did, Hank,” said Stephen. “It was from that day that the three of us — Edward, Michael, and I — came to eat at your workplace, the sandwich shop. You stayed busy in the kitchen, but Jasmine took our photograph in such a way that you could be in the picture as well. You were looking up at her, smiling ever so slightly.”

“I remember that day,” said Hank. “That was a nice day.”

“It was a nice day, Hank.”

Kevin set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a stack of folders. 

“If the killer recognized you, Hank, we think maybe you would recognize them too. These folders contain images of the staff from the retirement home where Edward was living. Would you look at these for us, please? Just on the off chance you recognize anything. It might be nothing, but still…”

Hank turned to look at Gracie, questioningly. She nodded. 

“Kind of a long-shot, man,” she said, “but it’s the best we got.”

He nodded back, and began looking through images. 

Kevin and Stephen exchanged looks, and both turned to Gracie. That was more than gratitude. That was pride. At least, that’s what Gracie figured. It wasn’t a look she’d seen a lot, but the best she could read them, it wasn’t just that they were happy she had helped them. It was more like they had already betted on her being able to help them, and she had just proven them right. 

That felt good in a way that made it hard for Gracie to keep looking at them. 

Then a sound came out of Hank that definitely sounded more gorilla than man — a guttural, startled cry. In his hand, held the photograph of a short-haired middle-aged woman. 

Tears welled in his eyes. His face contorted in a terrible grimace. “Betsy…” 

Kevin asked, “Who is Betsy?”

Hank’s jaw worked for a moment, chewing the air before words could come. “Bobby D’s. The deli. She was his niece. She worked there.” 

He looked up to Stephen. “She was the one I found there. You remember? I called you…”

Stephen’s face fell, horror overcoming him. He held his hand to his mouth and said softly, “Dios mio. That poor girl. How she must have suffered.”

Hesitantly, Gracie asked, “Ok, so, what is going on now?”

“She was one of the second Troubador’s victims,” said Kevin. “He murdered her family in front of her. Then she had to watch them mutilate their bodies before he maimed her. She must be wearing a prosthetic arm.”

Gracie muttered, “Jesus fuck…”

“She wanted to know why,” said Hank. “I told her…” The pain of memory mad him wince. “It was to get to me. I told her it was the Crimson Wraith.”

“So, you’re she’s the one?” Gracie asked Kevin. “She murdered Edward?”

“No…” Hank moaned.

“She would appear to have a motive,” said Kevin. “And she definitely had the means and opportunity to carry out a murder.”

Gracie looked as carefully as she could at the face of the woman in the photograph, thinking for sure thirty years of that kind of pain would show itself somehow. When would a wound like that ever start hurting? She wondered if there would be an undercurrent of rage in there, a thunderclap of vengeance waiting to erupt. 

But no, there was no sign of really any emotion at all. There was a hardness in the empty smile of her Sunset Gardens employee ID that made Grace think of photos of the rubble from Zero Hour bombings. 

The site of a tragedy doesn’t show you tragedy. It shows you what was left behind.

Hank touched the photograph softly, giving it comfort he couldn’t give the woman in it. “Betsy…”

Afterward…

Hands opened doors for Gracie, Kevin, and Stephen. These hands pressed buttons to lift gates, allowing them back out into the world. 

They came to fetch Hank, to place his hands in cuffs, and to guide him back to his cell. 

And then hands waved for a supervisor’s attention and made the gesture of puffing on an imaginary cigarette, to show they would be taking a break. After opening the door outside to the overcast day and walking some distance away, hands pulled and lit it before retrieving a cellphone.

Fingers selected “Blue” from contacts, and began typing. 

His visitors just left.

The response from Blue came right away. Ready.