He hefted his bag, turning his back to the scene. He didn’t wait until he was fully in the clear before using his boots to lift himself off the ground. He flew up to a rooftop, and let the bag fall. Piece by piece, he strapped on his armor. Some of it had only received a few crystallizations of power. But the spear, in multiple pieces that he screwed together, the shield, which was small at the outset, and his helmet were all things he’d focused on over the years.

He left spare clothes and the gym bag behind. It didn’t matter.

The cloud of heaviest rain was advancing steadily toward the bay. Armsmaster had been right. The guy was an asshole who’d had it in for him from the start, but he didn’t screw up when it came to things like this.

Clockblocker and Browbeat were on the scene, standing outside the building and waiting for everyone to arrive. They stared out over dark water.

There was a crack, a boom, and Strider came in with a group, the teleportation contractor the PRT had been using recently.

Strapping Lad, Young Buck, Chronicler and Exalt were in that group. Eidolon was head and shoulders above them all, and rose even higher as he took flight.

Surveying the threat and the city, taking note of Dauntless and a few of the other fliers who were doing similar things. Lady Photon was up here.

Eidolon dropped out of the sky, landing in a clear spot by the building entrance. The people in the way parted to let him through.

They’ve wondered out loud if I would become like you, Dauntless thought. How many years? I never asked for it, but it’s not impossible.

The image of his son wiping away tears stayed with him. Addison had tried to hide it for just this reason, he guessed. To avoid distracting.

They had been rescued a little while after Addison had been born, and Kel had gone to the hospital. He couldn’t claim to understand the thought processes that had driven her to refuse visitation, or the piece of legalese that had been mailed to his parents, because she didn’t know where else to contact him. Forfeiting her parental rights.

Panic, maybe. Maybe self-doubt. She had never believed in herself enough, and he’d wondered in retrospect if her calm in that buried van had been because she no longer had to worry about herself and her role in it all.

He desperately, desperately wished she’d stayed, but she’d needed to do what was good for her, and he needed to do what was good for Addison.

So he’d signed, and he’d done his best. He’d avoided saying an unkind word about her to their son, and he’d organized the charity to do what he could to avoid a similar heartbreak from happening again.