“I’ve wondered that every day since. I’m mostly caught between thinking she wanted to get hurt and lose the baby, it was so blatant, or that she thought the broken display window was an escape route, even though there were others she could have run for,” Fume Hood said. “I was so pissed. I shouted at people to take her outside and get her some fresh air, even though I knew it made everything harder with the robbery. They’d contact authorities, we’d have to protect ourselves, whatever. I thought I was pretty fair. She got medical attention and shit.”

“Could have been worse,” I said.

“I shouldn’t have pulled that robbery at the mall. I know that. But it’s not one of my big regrets. Her being a stupid fucking idiot isn’t one of them either, obviously.”

“You turned yourself in after that.”

“The heat got too much, like I said. And—and I was tired, you know?”

Her voice had cracked on the ‘tired’.

She sounded tired now.

“It had been years, trying to get by. A lot of it was fun. The drugs, the robberies and mercenary work, the adventure, new places and really interesting people. Some shitty people, lots of scary people, but they were always interesting. Capes are interesting in a way you probably wouldn’t get if you didn’t know any for real.”

“I grew up with capes,” I said.

She stopped passing the glass from hand to hand, holding it in both instead. “Did you? Huh.”

I shrugged. My glass was empty. I put it on the counter and, finger on the inside, spun it in a circle, the bottom rattling on the metal countertop.

She continued, “Well, all I know is, the crime stuff started to feel like work. The drugs stopped feeling like they were a plus and started feeling like they were something I had to do. I was never addicted, I never craved it, I never had withdrawal after. This analogy I’ve been thinking of is it’s like I had to go to the bathroom every half hour and who wants to do that, you know? Who wants to keep interrupting their day for something they aren’t even enjoying anymore?”

“No idea,” I said. “But I can see what you’re saying.”

“The cool people started dropping away. A couple dead, others just stopped being cool. High people are really boring to be around. So like a genius, I thought hey, let’s just go to prison. I made a deal. I wanted a bit of an education, training at some job or another, safety, I didn’t want to be stuck in there too long.”

“How’d it work out?”

“Deal worked out fine. Judge agreed, heroes agreed, it was one less parahuman on the streets that people were really upset about. Jail isn’t fun, but it was what I needed, I think.”