PK picks at his shredded sleeve, tearing off small bits and letting them blow away in the wind. He sits on top of a transformer overlooking the beginning of a newly built house, its foundation smelling of a burn from years ago.

  “All over the country, perhaps beyond, nearly exactly the same circumstances had been happening over and over again.” Lance explains, the drone hovering by Tim’s shoulder.

  “So, they kill the families, and burn down the houses, then cover it all up? Why?” Tim turns to the drone.

  “I don’t know.” Lance says, the lenses of the machine zooming in on the house.

  “Best guess?”

  “I have little evidence, and some deductions. Each house that was burned was home to a child between the age of thirteen and fifteen. Purging all of the camera footage would have taken time, money, and manpower to accomplish. Each child in each home excelled in some way, and a few questions about the children's bodies had been raised but just as quickly erased as well. Beyond that? It's difficult to imagine another reason besides that they were special, like you in some way. It seems like they were testing this.”

  “Testing.” Tim’s fist clenches and he breathes out increasingly hot air. “Who?”

  “The government, or an organization with government resources. That I'm nearly certain of.”

  “That’s probably the worst answer you could’ve given.” Tim sighs.

  “Yes.”

  "There were questions about the bodies?"

  "Yes."

  "Lance, please."

  "Sorry. Some of the bodies belonging to the children were odd, or off. The coroners and autopsy reports were purged though not as cleanly. I identified more than one instance where a report suggested there were artificial elements to the corpses."

  "So body doubles?"

  "Likely. I can deduce these children were likely captured, not killed.

  “Do you know where they were taken to?”

  “I’m sorry Tim—“

  “Prehistoric Kid.” He corrects.

  “A wise decision, I’m sorry, Prehistoric Kid, but I don’t know.”

  “Shit.” Tim tries to run his fingers through his hair only to find helmet. “What do we do about this?”

  Lance stays quiet, not a sound escaping from the drone's speaker.

  “Lance.”

  “Nothing, not yet, aside from continuing your work more carefully. To that end, please come with me.”

  The drone begins to fly off and Tim goes to follow, but stops and turns back to the house, its new frame barely erected.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his pulse quickens and his stomach ties into a knot. This, all of this, makes a part of him just want to head home, hang out with Jane, but it’s a small part of him. A much larger part realizes, he’s been thinking far, far too small, and far too selfishly.

  His knuckles turn white and his vision zooms into the dirt, as if there’s some lingering clue there that he could use to track the boy that lived there two years ago. It isn’t until Lance gets his attention with an intentional cough that he’s able to tear away his gaze and follow after the drone.

  “How did you know about all that?” Tim asks as he rises above the drone, landing on it as his Compy, then leaps off it and onto a true as human.

  “As you know, I am a hacker, what you did not know is I am very, very good. This is also how I was able to find you, after seeing what happened to you, I was quickly able to find your school, home address, and more. I watched you over the weekend via street cams—”

  “Street cams?” Tim interrupts, jumping onto a rooftop.

  “Yes.”

  Tim waits for further elaboration as he jumps down from the building, grabs a street lamp, twirls around it, and couches on the top.

  “Can you expand?” Tim rolls his eyes. “I know on TV and movies that people watch through public cams all the time, but that isn’t supposed to be real. Street cams are closed systems, right?”

  “Pre nine eleven, yes, but after the Patriot Act was passed, the government quietly began to change that. Originally they were going to contract the William's to network nigh all the cameras in the US, but when word of the contact eventually reached the Jones Corporation, they won the contract.”

  “Is that why they’ve been doing so much construction all the time?”

  “In nearly every major city in America, yes.”

  “That’s Orwellian."

  “Yes, as I was saying,” Lance picks up, "I watched you over the weekend via street cams, deleted any videos of you that happened to make their way online, and found that I was not the only one doing it.”

  “That’s mysterious.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lance.”

  “Sorry, yes, the others watching and deleting videos were Arch.”

  “Arch?” Tim sighs as he lands from another jump.

  He’s not surprised at this point, who else would or could send a super powered dinosaur after him? Still, it makes his heart sink, Arch is, was, his dream job, Grant Connors his hero. Maybe there’s a chance Connors isn’t involved? Unlikely.

  “So, guess you both had the same idea then? You figured out I was hitting meth labs and decided to wait out the next logical one I’d hit.”

  “Correct.” The drone ducks down into an alleyway, where a plain white van sits.

  “Next question, why help me?” Tim asks as he lands in the alleyway, as the drone approaches the car.

  The back doors open, and Lance steps out, the drone coming to rest in his arms.

  “Because, I think you’re a good person, based on your actions.”

  ‘Not because we became friends on the field trip?” Tim teases a bit as he leans against the van door beside the tall blond teenager.

  “That is a factor.” He shrugs and then climbs into the back of the van.

  Tim whistles as he peers inside, the back of the van seeming to be totally decked out with scavenged technologies, a desk sits on its driver side with a hefty looking computer under it, with a myriad of screens above. A three armed device hangs from the ceiling, one of the arms stretching out to grab the drone from lance and placing it in a slot on a box embedded into the passenger side wall. Crates and bins line what little other wall space is left, holding more scraps and half cobbled together gadgets

  “That’s one fancy microwave.” Tim taps it.

  “Thank you,” Lance nods, “I know nothing here is a uniform aesthetic but, despite that, I enjoy the wood finish on it.”

  “Whatever works man.” Tim watches as Lance opens up his glove box and hands him a green wristband.

  “Oooo, friendship bracelets already! Bestiiiiie.” He twirls it around on his finger and then slips it onto his wrist.

  Lance doesn’t laugh but he does smile as the display.

  “You recall the suit we looked over on the field trip.”

  “Mhmm, you said it was made out of cells or something, and that its collapsible.” Tim says, already getting the gist.

  “It was caught in the same explosion you were, I thought, should you need it, it’d be better to have it.”

  “So you took it?” Tim raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, and modified it, especially after seeing your... specific tastes.”

  “I’m sure it's no money out of some billionaire's pockets.” Tim nods and smiles. “Thanks, how do I use it?”

  “Using your heightened strength, press down with your thumb and pointer finger on opposite sides.”

  Tim tosses off his helmet and follows Lance’s instructions, the wristband expanding and gliding over him like a liquid, solidifying into a new suit.

  “Oooo, got a mirror?”

  Lance shakes his head, but then gestures to a dumpster near the end of an alley, a tall mirror conveniently leaning against it.

  “Neato rino.” Tim hops out of the van and looks himself over.

  The costume is a near even match of green and black. His mask green with emotive, black lenses, and the green continued down to his chest, tapering off to a point on his abdomen. A black, skeletal T-Rex foot sits in the middle of his chest, Tim racing a finger over it. His shoulders, joints, and gloves are also green, as well as along the top of his shoes, or whatever his foot coverings should be called.

  “What is it called on a onesie? Socks?”

  “Hm?” Lance class over.

  “Nothing, just thinking out loud.” Tim walks back over and extends a fist, “Thanks man, I love it.”

  Lance nods and meets the fist with his own.

  “So, it's made out of cells right? It's not going to end up being a Venom situation?”

  Lance shakes its head, “They aren’t real cells, just a close approximation. The suit will actually repair itself if it's torn, as any wound does.”

  “Awesome” He makes a guess on how to retract the suit and does the same thing to his wrist, nodding with satisfaction as it retracts.

  Lance nods, not elaborating further until he realizes there’s expectations in Tim’s eyes.

  “Sorry, yes, it's not dissimilar to how cells divide and repair things. It absorbs ambient energy and then divides until it's back to its original state.”

  “It doesn’t need to take in matter or anything?” Tim whistles.

  Lance shakes his head, “No, and at the moment I can’t figure out why either.” Lance doesn’t sigh but his shoulders droop as he shakes his head again. “Williams tech.”

  “Right,” Tim shrugs and sits down. “So, you don’t seem remotely freaked out by any of this.”

  Lance takes his turn to shrug. “The world has always been strange, most just don’t know where or how to look.”

  “And you do?” Tim raises an eyebrow to him.

  “Yes, my cousin is like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Yes, he is... The term that seems to be gaining popularity is anomaly.”

  “Which SCP is he?”

  “I’m vaguely familiar with the fiction. That is why I’m not entirely shocked by any of this, though it is very different from what I’m used to.”

  “What are you used to?”

  “Perhaps I'll tell you one day, but for now, trust me when I say that encountering what I'm used to does far more harm than good.”

  “Ok but you should tell me anyways.” Tim presses.

  Lance shakes his head, “While I respect your curiosity, I ask that you respect my boundaries.”

  “You spied on me from traffic cams.” Tim tries another angle.

  “Indeed, good that I did, I trust you agree.”

  “It's going to bother me until you tell me.” Tim frowns.

  “Perhaps.” Lance shrugs, “if for some reason it becomes relevant I’ll explain more.”

  “Eh, give it a month, no way it doesn’t come up now that it's out in the universe.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “So what now? Did you just want to warn me and give me this fancy suit?”

  “No, I intend to offer you assistance.”

  “Cause we’re besties now?” Tim grins and wiggles his band.

  “That factors in.” Lance smiles and nods.

  “What do you think should be first on the itinerary then? I’ve mostly just been trying to clean up the streets, but there’s a lot going on.”

  “I know.” Lance nods, then brings a hand to his chin and begins to ponder. “I’ll get back to you on that. For now, let's go our separate ways, we can contact each other via your suit.”

  “Neat.”

  Tim waves as he watches the Van drive off, activating his suit and rolling his neck as it slips over him. He looks up dead leaps back onto the roof and paces on its edge, thinking about what to do next.

  Hitting more meth labs is probably a no go, as much as he wants to, Arch could have more than one supersaurus lying around to send after him, or they could’ve fixed the Phantasmaraptor’s armor already. Its probably better to just lay low until he can talk to Lance next and plan out their next steps.

  He doesn’t.

  A mugger slams into the ground, gang on gang violence ends with both sides' weapons smashed to smithereens. A lost child returned to her parents, a loose dog carried back to its yard, a woman at a payphone cries that she has no way to visit her father at the hospital, so PK carries her there.

  A woman pleads for her husband not to hit her or her kids, he nearly does anyway, but PK is already down their chimney and wrapping his hand around the man’s thrown punch. He glances towards the cowering children, reminding him of himself and Jane, and casually pushes the father back. He puts on a show of man handling the dad, throwing out quips and making the kids giggle more than once, before he forces the man out the front door and chases him a few blocks as a Utahraptor.

  Probably not good for keeping under the government's radar, but it does make Tim realize something else. He hasn't been thinking big enough, or small enough. The fact that it took him three whole days to do this, to just help people makes him feel nauseous. All the power in the world and his fist instincts were to curb his caving for violence? He’s going to have to be better than that if he wants to be a superhero.

  Tim curses as he slips through his window right as his alarm clock begins to go off, it looks like he’s going to have another day of exhaustion ahead of him.

  “We’re out of eggs, and bacon... and cheese.” Tim tells his mother as she passes by him and his mountain of food, Jane yawning sleepily with a normal sized plate beside him.

  “What the fuck Timmy?” She sighs while rubbing his head, “you’re going to eat us out of house and home.”

  Tim shrugs as he stuffs his mouth. “Hungry.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it.” Beth shrugs.

  “Why? Making more money now that you’re selling guns now?” Tim sleepily lets slip.

  “Who the fuck told you that.” His mother’s face darkens as her eyes narrow. “Was it one of them?” She gestures to the living room. “I swear to god I’ll—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Tim slams his palm onto the table, “the point is that you’re doing it. First it was selling drugs, but not to kids, then Delilah starts and just fuck that rule, right?” He stands up and glares into his mother’s eyes. “And now guns too? What? Not enough blood on your hands?”

  “Don’t start Timothy.” She glares right back at him. “Don’t bring this up again, and don’t talk to me like that. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but I am your mother and—”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Don’t bring it up.” Tim scoffs. “Whatever murderer, all hail the return of Death Beth.”

  “You’re so ungrateful.” She spits the venom laced word. “Where do you think all that food comes from huh? The clothes on your back? Your toys?”

  “I’d rather be naked and starving.”

  “I’ll remember that next time you ask me to buy carne asada fries.”

  “Heaven forbid your fucking child tries to enjoy something in this miserable fucking hellhole.” Tim’s voice raises, but his anger falters as Jane touches the back of his arm.

  “Tim, let's go, we’re going to be late.”

  They’re not, but an unsteadiness in Jane’s voice tells Tim she isn’t up for this, not today.

  “Right.” Tim turns away from his mother and grabs his and Jane’s plates, quickly unloading the food into tupperware.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of washing those dishes.” His mom tries to reignite the argument.

  “Sure, whatever.” Tim rolls his eyes and walks past her.

  “They’ll be waiting for you when you come back!”

  “If you could put pettiness on your resume I bet you could land a real job!” Tim yells back and slams the front door.

  The pair make their way down the street until they reach one of their regular hang out spots, a green electrical box, and start to eat the remainder of their breakfast.

  “What’s wrong?” Tim asks. “Normally you end up joining in on the yelling match.”

  Jane shakes her head, “Dad was... bad last night.”

  Heat rises in Tim’s chest. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, not yet.” She takes in a deep breath and sighs, “I feel like he’s going to crack soon though, he just keeps getting angrier and angrier.”

  “I won’t let him.” Tim rubs her back.

  “If you were there, I know you’d stop him, hell I'd help you kick his ass but,” She shrugs, “You’re not always around.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What?” Jane raises an eyebrow at him.

  “Just yell my name and I'll be there.”

  She smiles and exhales a bit, “Sure, sure.”

  She has no idea just how serious he is. He’s faster than sound, he ever hears her scream and sonic boom be damned, he’ll do anything to get to her.

  “I have a stupid question,” She says as she plays with a lock of her hair.

  “I’m sure I can conjure a stupid answer.”

  She snorts, “Never mind, it’s dumb.”

  “So?”

  “Am I the only one you’d come running for? If someone called for you?”

  “What?”

  “See it’s... it’s dumb.” She shakes her head. “Forget it.”

  “Weirdo.” Tim teases.

  She frowns at that and goes back to her food in a huff. It looks, and from her heart beat, sounds like that genuinely upset her somehow.

  “What? What’d I do?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugs.

  “You’re so confusing sometimes.” He shakes his head as he finishes up his food and stuffs the empty container into his backpack.

  “Look who’s talking.” Jane rolls her eyes.

  Tim shrugs, “I feel like I’m not hard to figure out.”

  “Oh, you have plenty of shit I just don’t get, trust me.” She says, annoyed, tossing him her empty tupperware and hopping off of the electric box.

  The second day of school with his powers isn’t nearly as much of an assault on Tim’s senses at the first, but despite that it's still a struggle. Food remedied his exhaustion yesterday, but today isn’t enough to stave off just how sleepy he is. Silver linings can be found just about anywhere though, as detention goes by in a snap due to him passing out.

  The shot nap isn’t nearly enough though, as by the time he and Jane head he he’s yawning more and more. He’s not going to be able to get even his homework done at this ate, let alone fight criminals and dinosaurs.

  “I’m going to nap as soon as I get home, too tired to do anything.” He lets Jane now through a particularly long yawn.

  “Eh, I’ll just chill in your room then. Wait, can you help me with my biology homework first?” She asks.

  “Sure.” Tim yawns again.

  They ignore Tim’s mother as she yells at him to do the dishes and get to work in his room. Tim could, and probably should’ve, sleep through High School biology, so guiding Jane through is simple enough. It helps that she’s a fast learner, quickly picking up on what Tim’s saying despite his sleepy slang.

  It's not long until he falls over on his back, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

  “I’m just gonna keep hanging out.” Jane says as she leans against his wall as she slides her homework into her backpack.

  Tim yawns and nods, his eyes finally falling and sleep quickly claiming him.

  He wakes up hazily, not remembering what day, month, or year it is for a moment. He looks at his alarm clock and sees a big, red eight, and realizes that the last fourish hours are the most sleep he’s gotten for four days.

  He groggily goes to get up, only to realize there's a weight on him, looking down to find Jane snuggled on his chest, an open text book lying beside her. He has to suppress a giggle as he looks at her cheek squished up against him, a snort escaping from his nose. He wants to get up, but she’s like if a cat curled up and fell asleep on him, too peaceful to disturb, too cute.

  Cute?

  Any potential introspection on the thought is abruptly cut off as Tim’s bedroom door swings open, Jane’s father lumbering in.

  “Here we go.” Tim sighs.

  “Jane!” Her dad bellows, his face turning a deep red as soon as he processes what he sees.

  Jane jumps awake, her heart thumping in her chest. She looks completely confused as she struggles to process what’s going on and get her bearings.

  “Dad? I—”

  “Get the fuck up.” He orders, glaring daggers into Tim.

  “Seriously Dan? We just fell asleep, that's all that—”

  “Don’t fucking touch my daughter.” He growls, Tim just blinking in response..

  “Don’t talk to him like that.” Jane says under her breath as she hesitantly climbs out of bed.

  “And you, you trying to become a slut or something?”

  “Ok.” Tim rolls his neck and gets out of bed, standing in front of Jane. “Back off.”

  “Sit back down Timothy.” Dan narrows his eyes at him. “Jane, go to the car, now.”

  Tim glances back to her as her heart skips a beat, she meets Tim’s eyes, then her dad’s, then Tim’s again.

  “No.” She answers, her heart racing and hand twitching.

  Tim smiles and winks at her, making a small smile briefly curl up on the edges of her lips.

  “Now Jane!” Dan yells, “Me and Tim are going to have a talk.”

  “Dan.” Tim steps closer to him. “Nothing happened, nothing is happening! Jane’s my best friend, she has been since we thought paste was a fucking hors d’oeuvres.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if you know any French.”

  “What?”

  “Fuck the French.”

  “Ok?”

  “And bullshit, you two are obviously fucking and I’m not letting her get pregnant at sixteen!”

  “What the fuck.” Jane says under her breath again, getting her teeth, then raising her voice. “I... I'm not going anywhere with you!”

  “Go to the fucking car now girl!”

  “No! I’m not leaving, go home without me.”

  “You will listen to me.” He reaches for her arm but she back steps causing him to grab a hold of her long hair instead.

  And then he yanks, Jane yelping as she’s pulled towards him.

  Tim doesn't know how he ended up with Dan pinned to the hallway wall, digging his elbow into his collar bone, but he does know he wants to snap it.

  “What the fuck!” Dan tries to pull Tim off of him but he doesn’t budge.

  The commotion draws the attention of the whole house, the living room squatters peeking down the hallway, and Beth’s door opening.

  “What’s going on?” Beth demands, staring at her son pinning the man against the wall.

  “Get him the fuck off me Beth.” Dan demands.

  “He hurt her.” Tim says with a cool rage, digging his elbow into him further, he could hear the bone straining, wanting to crack.

  Beth looks over to Jane, who gives her a nod, and then she looks back to Tim, and nods to him.

  The bone makes a satisfying snap sound, Dan yelling as a spasm of pain curses through his body. Tim winks at him, then lets him fall to his ass.

  “You ever hurt her again, I’ll break every bone in your body.” Tim glares down at him.

  Tim turns to Jane, her mouth trying to form words, but she gives up and takes a step backwards into the room, eyes locked on her dad.

  Clarity begins to creep its way back over Tim’s mind, what did he just do? He and Jane always talked about fighting her dad together, but its still her dad. He didn't need to take it as far as he did, and now Jane looks not ok, not ok at all.

  “Fuck!” Dan holds his chest, gritting his teeth in pain. “Jane,” he says as he pulls himself up, leaning on the wall. “Go to the fucking car.”

  “No.” Beth says, to Tim’s surprise.

  “What?” Dan grits his teeth and glares at her.

  Beth shrugs, “Get out Dan, Jane is going to stay with us for now.”

  “Beth, she’s my fucking daughter.”

  “Did I stutter?”

  “I just pulled her god damn hair! Its not like I fucking backhanded her!”

  Beth steps up to him, while she’s not short, Dan sits at more than six feet tall, yet she still towers over him in this moment.

  “Are you going to listen to me, or not?”

  Dan’s anger melts away into fear almost cartoonishly, a gulp sound coming from him as he nods.

  Beth smiles, “Good, now get the fuck out of my house.”

  Dan nods to her again, and makes his way out, eyes pointing to the floor.

  Beth smiles at Tim, and gives him a nod. He doesn’t like the look of pride in her eyes, but doesn’t do or say anything as she walks past him and wraps her arms around Jane in a hug.

  “Are you ok sweetie?”

  “I don’t know...” Jane answers quietly.

  “That’s ok.” She kisses her forehead. “Just rest tonight, maybe take tomorrow off from school.”

  Jane shakes her head, “I want to go.”

  “Ok,” Beth rubs her shoulders, “I’ll send Delilah to get some clothes for you.”

  “Ok.” Jane nods.

  “Tim.” Beth turns to him. “Good job.”

  He frowns, then looks at Jane, the smell of adrenaline on her skin.

  “Yeah.” He answers simply.

  Beth pats his arm and kisses his cheek, before shooting a look towards the onlooking tweakers to disperse them, then heading to her room.

  He stares at Jane, her eyes locked on the floor and her hand rubbing her arm, and he has no idea what to do. Did he do the right thing? Not morally, he’s confidant in that he’s right on that, if anything Dan deserves worse than just a broken bone but did he do the right thing for her?

  That makes said confidence falter, and falter further as his mother’s prideful “good job” echoes in his head. Then the snap goes off like one of his own sonic booms, it felt so... good to do, so satisfying. Maybe it makes more sense than he wants to admit that the first thing he did when he got his powers was to look for something to break.

  He hesitates, then reaches for Jane, expecting her to flinch away, then sighs in relief when she doesn't. He holds her hand then guides her back into his room, sitting her on the bed and shutting the door.

  “Wanna talk about it?” Tim asks.

  She sits quietly for a moment, “I’m not sure what to say yet.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  She shakes her head, “No, not mad.”

  “But... something?”

  She shrugs, “Plenty of somethings, but don’t worry, they aren’t... bad. Um, how do I even say this.” She runs her finger through long hair and collects it in her hand, twisting it as she thinks. “It's about me, not you.”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make it about me I just—”

  “That's not what I meant.”

  “Right, sorry.”

  “Ugh,” She rolls her eyes. “Boys are so stupid.”

  “What? How am I being stupid?”

  “Cause.” She shrugs and then throws herself back onto the bed, “I’m going to go back to sleep. Tell me when Delilah shows up with my clothes if you’re still up.”

  “Man, that's where we’re leaving that huh?”

  Jane pauses, grabbing at the blanket and pulling it over herself.

  “Sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She says.

  “It's ok.” He reassures her, and himself, then looks at the clock, eight ten.

  Wait.

  Jane’s staying with him now, sharing his room now. How is he supposed to manage maintaining his secret identity? There’s no way he’s going to be able to think of good enough excuses to cover him disappearing all night, every night, especially not from her.

  He isn’t able to come up with anything, and it isn’t until midnight that Jane actually falls asleep. At least sneaking out without waking her should be easy enough, all Tim has to do is go small and be careful.

  He crawls onto his wardrobe as the smallest known dinosaur he knows about, Oculudentavis. For all intents and purposes, just a bird, a palm sized, toothed one. It makes sneaking around easy enough, though Tim isn’t ready for another new sense disorienting him. Birds are capable of sensing the Earth's magnetosphere, and it looks like little Oculudentavis is capable of it as well. Still, its easy to adjust too, especially in comparison to the metric ton of sensory overload becoming a bug is, and he’s able to push his window open and slip out without issue.

  Another failed first flight attempt later and PK makes his way into the city as the diminutive dromaeosaur, Bambiraptor. At only three feet long and four pounds, with amusingly fawn colored feathers, anyone who notices him will hopefully think he’s just a bird.

  Now that he knows that a spooky shadow organization pays attention to “anomalies,” it's probably better to stay small and be as low key as possible. Think through and calculate each action he takes, but dang, is he bad at math.

  “My name’s Prehistoric Kid, and I’m going to make crime extinct!” He repeats his modified catchphrase again and again until he loses count. It might air on the reckless side, but if no one has rolled up looking for the T.rex that totaled a mech, surely Lance is doing a good enough job that he can help people on the streets.

  He should probably check in with Lance, so he brings his wrist to his face to talk into it, only to realize he has no idea how to use it to make a call. Tim curses at Lance’s habit of under explaining and his own habit of getting swept up in things as he presses random spots to see if anything sets off the comms. Nothing works so he continues his patrol, ending up at the Promenade and crutches down on the edge of its roof like a gargoyle.

  “Maybe it's like a cell sized ear piece? A cell phone!” He jokes to himself and presses on his ear, more nothing happening.

  He sighs and considers just heading to the alley where they met up, before he picks up a pained yelp close by. PK sniffs the air and recognizes two of the scents. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way over.

  “Go on son.” Bernard tells Darik, tossing him a metal pipe, then crosses his arms as it clinks across the ground.

  PK lands on a flagpole and looks over the scene, Bernard and Darik standing across from an old, disheveled, junkie. Tim recognizes him, though doesn’t remember his name, just another one of his mom's customers that has always shown up over the years.

  PK doesn’t exactly have any sympathy for the guy, but he’s not going to let him get beat so he goes to drop down on the father and son, only to hesitate. Darik hasn’t picked the pipe up yet.

  “This... this doesn’t feel right dad.” Darik said, shaking his head.

  “Of course its right, he gambled and he lost, he owes us money but he fucking spent it on Shit,” Darik’s dad raised his chin. “He deserves it.”

  “I don’t know.” Darik runs his fingers through his hair, looking to the pipe, then to the man, then too the pipe again.

  “Are you some sort of pussy, huh? Did I raise a pussy?” Bernard scoffs. “I thought you were a fighter, a scrapper. Losing so many fights against Beth’s boy get you quivering in your boots or some shit?”

  “No I just, fucking look at him! He’s pathetic! I can’t—”

  “Fine,” Bernard snatches the pipe off the ground and approaches the man, “I’ll let you be spineless tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, I'm sorry!” The man trembles, “I really thought Swineheart was going to lose the race this time! No way his streak can go on! Hey hey! How about double or nothing on the next one.”

  Swineheart? Like Earl Swineheart? The fucking NASCAR driver? This beating’s over betting on guys turning left really fast?

  “You know, I’m not angry, I'm more disappointed.” PK calls out as he drops down from the flagpole.

  “Shit.” Darik takes a few steps back. “You’re real?”

  “Very.” PK winks to him.

  “What the fuck? You one of those fucking dungeon and dragons idiots or something?”

  Tim looks himself up and down.

  “Yeah, I uh, really come off as a wizard, wanna see a magic trick?”

  “Fuck off kid, don’t be a hero.”

  “Dad, wait, he—”

  “Shut the fuck up Darik.” The man rolls his eyes, has the utter audacity to ignore PK, and raises his arm to strike the old man.

  “Ugh,” with a slight push off the ground, PK appears in front of Bernard, tanking the pipe swing, then snatches it from him.

  “Pipe joke, pipe joke.” PK ponders out loud as he kicks Bernard to the ground. “Uuuh, are you a plumber cause... No, don’t know where I'm going with that.” He taps his chin with the makeshift weapon as he waits for Bernard to get up.

  “I’ll fucking kill you!” Bernard springs up and swings, PK quickly smacking his hand with the pipe. Bernard curses as he takes a step back and tries to shake the pain out of his quickly reddening fingers.

  “Pipe... bomb? Pied Piper? Ok I got nothing.” PK sighs. “Do you just... when you want to beat someone do you just carry a pipe around? Where’d you get this anyways?”

  “Dad, we need to go.” Darik grabs Bernard and tries to pull him away.

  Tim sighs as Darik’s dad responds with some generic, abusive old man blah blah blah. Then transforms into his Allosaurus, roaring.

  That sends everyone, including the old guy, into a sprint, ending the tiresome conflict. He turns and zooms his vision onto a trash can, then underhand tosses the pipe to it, pumping his fist when he makes the basket.

  He jumps back onto the flagpole and goes to make his way to the alleyways, when a voice speaks into his ear.

  “Would you like to meet?” Lance asked.

  “Forever ago, yes.” Tim sighs.

  “Why didn’t you call then?”

  “You didn’t tell me how Lance.” Tim grumbles.

  “Ah, sorry, it slipped my mind. You hold a finger down on the top of your wrist for 5 seconds.”

  Tim runs his hand down his face, “Kay.”