#sorry had to include bruce in this somehow. its in my coding

[headworldofficial]

hollywood has just announced the new 5th monkee. its bruce springsteen

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (25/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

Masterpost

Chapter Twenty Four

Pepper was almost a little surprised that Tony had kept her specific access code working on the workshop keypad except that she really wasn’t because Tony probably still considered her one of his best friends just as Pepper knew he held that title for her. Aside from going to the tower for SI business, she hadn’t entered the tower since the break up and definitely not the penthouse, and walking into it felt strange since Tony had remodeled it yet again and none of it looked like it did before. She also had to note that Tony had made things more to his liking rather than hers. It didn’t look bad. It reminded Pepper a little of the Malibu house.

The workshop was still mostly the same and when Pepper stepped inside, Butterfingers actually greeted her and the other two bots followed. She touched each of them and then looked towards Tony who wasn’t alone. She would have expected Bruce, but he was still nowhere to be found as far as Pepper knew, so instead it was Steve.

Steve had stood up from the futon that hadn’t been there the last time Pepper had been in the workshop. She suspected its addition had something to do with Steve’s presence.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Potts,” he said with an easy smile and a nod.

“I didn’t expect you here, Captain,” Pepper said but smiled at him nonetheless before she turned towards Tony who probably hadn’t even noticed that she was there.

“Just keeping Tony company,” Steve said and sat down again. He had a sketch pad in one hand and a tray with art supplies.

“That’s nice of you,” she offered and then walked towards Tony and touched his shoulder but he didn’t react and Pepper hadn’t expected him to.  

“It has not even been an hour, Steve, no cheating,” Tony said after a moment proving to Pepper that Steve was probably spending a lot of time in the workshop with Tony. It was something to think on later, though, because that wasn’t why Pepper was there.  She touched his shoulder again.

Tony turned. “Oh,” Tony said when he saw her and then dropped whatever tools he’d been using on the table and grabbed her into a hug. “Pep, what are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Pepper let her arms fold around Tony. It felt good to know that Tony was over them and over their relationship enough to just welcome her back gladly. For a moment, she didn’t want to give him the news except that she had to because even Tony would notice that they were footing the bill on a funeral.

“I didn’t know I was until earlier today,” Pepper said as she pulled away from him.

Tony frowned at once. “What happened?” he asked.

Steve got up to join them and Pepper didn’t mind that Tony had his support. It was good. Tony would need it -- he needed someone that would stick around and that cared. Pepper took a deep breath.

“Peter’s uncle died yesterday. He was shot in the chest and didn’t make it to the hospital,” Pepper said and tried not to think about the phone call that she had received from May Parker who had told her through tears and sobs.

“Shit,” Tony said at the same time that Steve said, “how’s Peter?”

“May said that Peter was with him when it happened,” Pepper said. “He wasn’t hurt but he was with Ben when he died. May said he was distraught.”

“Damn,” Tony said, “he seems to have the worst luck in the world. Absent father, step-father dies, now his uncle dies. That aunt of his better stay in perfect health.”

Pepper could tell that it pained Tony to know that Peter was in pain and she watched as Steve reached out to Tony and placed his hand on Tony’s back and Tony just leaned into it before glancing towards Steve and giving him a soft and open look that made Pepper pause. This was not at all how they had interacted the last time she had been around the two of them.

“We have to -- we should send something. I don’t know flowers? Maybe food? And we have to cover all the bills. Everything. The funeral, whatever the ambulance and the hospital cost. They shouldn’t have to worry about any of that. I don’t even -- should I reach out to Peter? Will it matter?”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Steve said and then turned towards Pepper as if waiting for her to make the decisions and she supposed that that usually did end up in her hands.

“Write to Peter but just don’t make it harder on him,” Pepper said, “I already told May not to worry about anything including the funeral.”

“This is why you’re the best, Pepper,” Tony said and smiled at her but she could tell that he was worried about Peter.

The funeral felt like it was happening in some other plane, as if Peter were just viewing it from afar and not actually there are all. His mind kept wandering off to the day that Uncle Ben died, and he couldn’t get rid of the image in his mind of Ben on that cold hard asphalt and the blood everywhere.

Peter had come to at the hospital with a nurse hovering over him and telling him that he had suffered a panic attack. It had taken a long moment for Peter to ask after Uncle Ben and even longer for the words “he died, there was too much blood loss, but we tried everything we could” to register.

He didn’t calm down until Aunt May arrived to get him and to hear the news for herself and Peter didn’t even know how he could look at her, especially when he remembered that he could have stopped the robber and that he had the means to stop him and just didn’t. Except that May just hugged him tightly and let him cry and she cried too and when they headed home they didn’t say anything and they stayed in the living room together for a long time just holding each other and Peter almost let the guilt fade away.

The next day he woke up on the couch alone and he almost wanted to believe it was a nightmare, except that Aunt May was crying in the kitchen.

“He said to tell you he loves you,” Peter said, then.

It set her off again, but she hugged him and Peter found himself crying too and somehow it felt good to let it out.

At some point Ned and his mom appeared with food and flowers and hugs. Peter just didn’t know what to say or how to act, so he just didn’t try. Ned just sat with him and it seemed to be enough.

Later that night he received a letter that someone must have personally dropped off.

Dear Peter,

I am so sorry. I don’t have the words to express how sorry I am that you are going through this except to say that it is extremely unfair. From every story that you told me about your uncle, I know that he was a good man and a man that loved and cherished you and that should have remained with you longer. You know well, far better than most unfortunately, that loss is a part of life. It doesn’t make it easier to accept. I know that no words will make a difference in this moment and I’m sorry for that too because if I could I would make all of it better for you without much prompting but that’s impossible.

People like to say that time will dull the pain and eventually it will become easier and in some ways that is true. You know both of my parents are dead -- have been for a long while now and I still feel sometimes like I missed out on a lot with them and that they should have been here for my accomplishments and yet I was able to keep going and keep being me and doing everything I could to not stagnate because they were gone. You need to grieve and to feel the loss, but do not let it consume you. Be sad. Be angry. Be anything you want to be, but be you and be the person he wanted you to be.

If you need anything, anything at all, I am here for you night and day whenever you need to talk or to just scream into a void. Remember him fondly and remember he loved you because that is the best and only thing left to do. He’s with you in all the ways that you are like him and in everything he’s taught you. One day the pain won’t be so sharp and you’ll look fondly on the time you spent with him.

Take care and give your aunt my condolences,

Tony Stark

Peter tried not to cry on the letter, but a few tears did fall on the paper. He just couldn’t help it, not when Mr. Stark made him feel like he actually genuinely cared and understood.

May didn’t tell him that Mr. Stark had paid for the funeral and that he had been responsible for all the other little things that made their life that much easier like all the meals that were delivered and the woman that showed up to clean the house and even the planning of the funeral. She didn’t tell him until the day of the funeral when everything seemed just a little bit too expensive for them to have been able to afford and Peter had to ask about it because it was something he noticed in order not to focus on Ben.

As Uncle Ben was lowered into the ground, Peter tried not to cry. Aunt May’s hand was tight around his hand and Peter knew deep down that he could have prevented this. It was not only Uncle Ben that had been shot that day, either, and Peter could have stopped that guy. He could have made it harder for him to hurt anyone and not doing so made him just as guilty.

He and May stepped forward to pick up some of the dirt and throw it in over the casket and as Peter threw his fistful he swore to never not do his best to help anyone that needed it. He was going to become Spider-Man.

Tony wore a disguise to the funeral and kept himself near the back. He wanted nothing else than to try and offer Peter any comfort that he could, but he also realized that he couldn’t and probably shouldn’t. Instead, he watched May hold his son’s hand and he tried not to dwell on how much his boy had already lost. Steve who had gone with him had held his hand instead and Tony couldn’t help but feel grateful to how much of a steady presence Steve had become.

Later, he was in the tower and Pepper who had stuck around for the funeral appeared in the kitchen while he prepared a cup of coffee.

“I don’t think this is the best time to tell Peter, but it might do him some good if he knew he had a living father.”

“He doesn’t need that on top of everything else,” Tony said, “maybe in a few months when Ben’s death isn’t as fresh. How’s May?”

“She’s doing as well as she can right now. I think having to be there for Peter is helping.” Pepper had reached out to May again a few times and would continue to do so because Tony just didn’t feel comfortable when he and May had never had the same rapport that May and Pepper did.

The next few weeks were odd. Tony hadn’t known Ben Parker personally, but he had essentially been his son’s father and raised him so in a way Tony felt a little bit like he too had lost someone important in his life. He definitely felt the pain for Peter too at losing someone so important in his life and it wasn’t too surprising when he didn’t receive any letter or email back from Peter. Eventually, it became something he didn’t dwell on too much because there were other things. Hydra was still active.

The Avengers were chasing leads on Hydra operatives and so Steve had gone on some mission chasing a lead. Tony was a little bit worried about it because he had only taken Sam with him.  

So, Tony worked on B.A.R.F. It had been obvious to him after visiting the old house at Christmas that he wasn’t over the death of his parents or probably a number of other things that had happened when he was child and then Ben dying had truly reminded Tony of the fact. To try and re-imagine them felt like the best therapeutic way to deal that didn’t include finding a therapist that wouldn’t spill all of his secrets. Sam had been some help in looking over how Tony intended the project to work and adding his own input in what might actually make a difference from a psychological standpoint.

Tony planned on showing it off at the MIT presentation that he’d agreed to attend. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had actually gone back to his alma mater and he was looking forward to giving back to those kids whose ideas would change the world. The September Foundation had been one of many charities that his mother had started and been chairman of and Tony was proud to keep them going. The foundation funded scholarships every year, but Tony was making one change this year and doing more than just scholarships because getting those brilliant kids through school wasn’t enough when they couldn’t find jobs or get the funding they needed for their ideas.

Pepper had even agreed to go with him and do her part in representing the business side of Stark Industries. They didn’t want to say it, but this was also a bit of a headhunting trip because they wanted to expand on a few fields mostly to do with medical equipment and there were some promising kids graduating soon that Tony had his eye on to snatch away from other competing companies.

Chapter Twenty Six

[angel-gidget]

Stars Unearth Your Fires (ch4/?)

Title:  Stars Unearth Your Fires (Ch 4/?)

Fandom: DCU, Teen Titans, Red Robin (preboot)

    Rating:  PG  | Words: 2800  | a03 link 

    Summary: Tim Drake never thought of himself as a troublemaker as far as Robins go. But a passing accusation quickly escalates into a case of stolen memories, technologically backwards clues from his past self, interdimensional hijinks, reflections on the good old days, and possibly the rekindling of a foregone romance. Eventually Tim/??? Mystery ship!

Ch 4: Tim has to look up an old friend or two before he can dig up his (hopefully existent) clue.

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It’s ended up becoming my longest one yet. Thank you so much for the amazing reviews! While there is sadly no Core Four in this chapter (Bart tried to elbow his way in, he really did), they will make more appearances soon. It’s time for Tim to reconnect with a few non-caped companions. My lovely beta Kiragecko took a much-deserved break this week, so all mistakes are 100% me. Sorry if I missed anything!

He and Ives were still friends. He was pretty sure. Mostly. At least, the guy hadn’t taken it too personally the last time Tim had visited out of the blue without speaking to him for over a year.

If anything, Ives had been shocked that Tim wanted to hang with him when he was in the middle of cancer treatment, as so many other friends had flaked out when things got too intense. Tim had just been grateful to have warning, for once, that one of his friends might die. He wasn’t usually so lucky, though he didn’t know how to tell Ives that without telling him way too much.

Two rings. Three. And then—

“Does my caller ID deceive me, or is this richest and dorkiest of my foul weather friends?”

“Don’t you mean fair-weather friends, Ives?”

“No, no, I don’t. You should brush up on your Shakespeare. And cheap surfer-stoner productions in the park don’t count, by the way,”

There were voices in the background, and music too. If anything, Tim would have sworn Ives was in the middle of a… club?

Ives continued, “I do mean foul-weather. That’s what you call people who stick with you when life is sucking but unexpectedly ditch you when it’s time to party. Case in point: I’m throwing a party and you’re not here. Because you never pick up your damn phone, you ass.”

Oh. OH! “Congratulations on your remission, man.”

He could hear the smile through the phone. It wasn’t the same as being totally forgiven, but Ives wasn’t the sort of person who could be happy and hold a grudge at the same time.

“Thanks. It’s my one-month anniversary of the big NED. Looks like for the time being, I’ve rolled a twenty on breathing. It’s worth celebrating.”

Smooth opening. Here we go.

“Feel like doing a more personal celebration too? Maybe something nostalgic? Like digging up our time capsule from the 8th grade? I’ll buy the pizza.”

“Oh, man. Yes. You better, Prince Midas. Hold up.”

He was distracted, clearly talking to somebody else at the party. Tim took a moment. It was just as well that he’d caught Ives when he was distracted. The guy didn’t do parties much. Introvert that he was, they took a lot out of him, including his tendency to say no to things. Even before he’d been sick. Tim didn’t have many childhood friends, but they were bookish gamer geeks, the lot of them.

Ives voice came back on the line.

“I got a friend who wants to come with. The dude’s curious about everything, a real Nancy Drew. Wants to know about my nerdy little 8th grade self. I told him the biggest difference was that I was little and in the 8th grade, but he’s bored and I promised to include him in more stuff.”

“That’s cool. Saturday, noon?”

“That’s high noon to you, buckaroo. And yes.”

——-

He’d outgrown his best nerd shirts.

Tim didn’t even know when it had happened. It wasn’t that they didn’t fit him through the arms and chest—he was wiry enough that they did—but he’d gotten so long in the torso, that the edges of his shirts rose up obnoxiously from the waist of his jeans, constantly baring strips of skin.

When this had happened to Cassie, she’d embraced it and pulled off the sexy belly-shirt like a pro. Tim… couldn’t do that. Or rather, he couldn’t do that without pulling out a persona.

Ives had an meet-up with Tim Drake, not Mr. Sarcastic. So belly nerd shirts were a no-go.

He’d yanked out what appeared to be his least-expensive hoodie and Alfred-purchased designer jeans, and hoped for the best. This was supposed to be about nostalgia for Ives, though Tim had mixed hopes.

What would be worse? Finding nothing but exactly what they had buried years ago, and pretending to laugh with his friend while secretly pulling out his hair over a dead end of evidence? Or finding the evidence he needed in its place, but then having to somehow cover for the oddness of whatever they found by lying to Ives again?

It had been a while since he’d had to lie to someone he loved, and Tim wanted to keep it that way. (And lies of omission didn’t count. Especially to Bruce. And to Dick. And to whomever else he’d been lying to by means of omission lately.)

“Best not to overthink it,” Tim muttered to himself. He had been ten minutes early to the discolored tree that had been the site of his and Ives’ 8th grade paint-ball fight. Also, the site of their only paintball fight, because apparently nobody had told Ives that there tended to be bruises from such a thing.

If Ives was anything like his old self, he’d be five minutes early, and… yup.

Tim smiled and waved as Ives’ old Chevy pulled into the park’s lot. He was about to say hello, when a second person slid out from the car, following after Ives with a growing Cheshire grin on his face.

Tim gasped, “F@*#$ing hell.”

Bernard Dowd.

Ives new Nancy Drew pal was Bernard. Fragging. Dowd. The nosey-est (and therefore worst possible) person to have on a dig that might or might not yield incriminating signs of inter-dimensional antics.

“Why Timbo! With a greeting like that, one would almost think you weren’t pleased to see me.” Bernard bumped the car door closed with his hip as he balanced a brand new shovel on one shoulder.

Ives blinked, “You two know each other?”

Tim scratched his head, “You two know each other?”

“As I’ve told you both,” Bernard set the shovel down by the largest tree root, “I know everyone who’s anyone.”

As if to prove the solidity of his nonchalance, Bernard took his best guess as to which patch of dirt housed the capsule, and made a sweeping ‘you first’ motion with his arm at Tim and Ives.

Tim pulled out Alfred’s trusty gardening hoe, and braced himself as Bernard began to snicker. Because he’d brought a hoe. Because, for all his eloquence, Bernard was emotionally twelve. Ives stared at them both like they had doubled their number of arms and limbs and turned green.

Tim felt his eyes narrow in suspicion in Bernard’s direction, “You knew I’d be here.”

Bernard pulled back his laughter into a finely-controlled smirk, “When dear ol’ Sebastian told me he had an eccentrically neglectful, ridiculously rich childhood compadre named Tim… well, I did the math. But I waited for a face-to-face to be sure,” He winked, “It’s more fun that way.”

Tim purposefully and carefully ignored that entire description of himself as he stared incredulously at Ives.

“You actually let him call you Sebastian? Him?”

“It was the only way to get him to stop calling me ‘St. Ives’ along with several other unholy variations of my surname,” Ives took a deep breath and pitched his own shovel into the dirt, “Now lets get this show on the road.”

Once the digging began, it was a simple matter to let Bernard dominate the conversation, explaining to Ives that he and Tim had gone to the aptly-named Grieve High for a semester together. Until the Aquista gang war had come to their front door step.

Tim’s mind remained vaguely on Bernard’s story, but mostly on the ground they were unearthing. There was a reason Bernard had been able to see the digging spot. It was especially uneven compared to its surroundings, overgrown with grass that was clearly seeded, a slightly different color than what was surrounding it.

Which was suspicious, considering Tim and Ives hadn’t laid down any grass seed when they were kids. Not that someone responsible for the park couldn’t have laid something down, but it didn’t look quite right. It had been what? Six? Seven years since he and Ives had buried the thing? It should have blended with the rest of the milieu perfectly. But it didn’t. Not quite. As though it had been dug up again at least once in the interim.

“Earth to Timinator,” Ives poked him in the forehead, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Ives looked like he wanted to smack Tim with his shovel and Bernard looked… oddly serious.

“Did Bernard’s dream girl turn into a super villain and try to kidnap you?”

And this was why he didn’t want Bernard here. There was the guy’s ongoing conspiracy theory habit, and then there was the fact that he had actually seen way too much.

“No,” Tim heard Bernard begin to protest, but he continued, “Darla didn’t try to kidnap me. She tried to make me into her personal moral compass and I told her where to get off.”

Bernard stared, “You what??? But she—you—she dismantled my car! She had these… these…”

Ives jumped in, “Phenomenal cosmic powers?”

“Yes,” Bernard continued, “And you just told her to go jump off a cliff? And got away with it? What the hell, Timothy!”

Tim blinked. He had forgotten about that. When Darla Aquista had died and returned from the dead with dark magic powers via one of Robin’s enemies, she had sought out her friend Tim Drake out for “advice.” Tim had forgotten that she had gone to Bernard first. He had never bothered to call Bernard and let the guy know he was okay. For all Bernard had known, he’d sent Tim’s untimely demise to his door when he told Darla where to find their former classmate.

Tim put the shovel down for a moment.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Bernard. I meant—I meant that if Darla wanted to be a hero, and she did, she couldn’t rely on me to tell her right from wrong and hold her to it. Heroes take responsibility for their actions. She gets that now. She went off with a superhero team called Shadowpact. She was okay.”

“And you?” Bernard exhaled.

Tim grinned.

“I’m always okay.”

Neither of his friends looked like they believed him.

Ives returned to digging, “See this is why you should call me more often,” He grunted as his shovel finally struck metal, “Your life gets really, really weird without me. Dating undead superheroes, Tim? Really? Oy vey.”

“We didn’t… never mind.”

He could have pulled the chest from the remainder of the hole without grunting, but watching Ives and Bernard wheeze and strain from the physical activity set a good bar for Timothy Drake Wayne’s level of sluggishness. So he panted along with them.

“Makes..nnghhh… a lot of sense in hind sight, though.” Ives breathed.

“What does?”

“Cancer probably doesn’t look like so bad of a boss battle after you’ve seen the fire and brimstone.”

“I…” He could be honest about this much. He could. “It made me glad for the people who are alive. However long they’re alive. Y’know?”

Ives gave him the most earnest smile Tim had seen all day.

“Okay, geeks! And Tim, for all your previous disguise, I see now that you are—in fact—a geek. It’s time to unbox this baby.” Bernard crowed.

Their “time capsule” was less a futuristic tube and more pirate-chest themed lockable luggage from the nearest department store. It had space for stuff, and it looked cool. Even as an adult, Tim felt he could stand by that choice.

Three seconds to blow off the dust. Forty-two to smash the lock. (He and Ives could both remember Tim swearing when they were kids that he would remember the combination, but well, he hadn’t.)

“A moment of silence for the defunct game boy who’s grave we have disturbed.” Ives mock-solemnly intoned, as he pulled out the old system preserved in plastic.

Tim blinked, “You buried your game boy? You loved that thing.”

“Exactly,” Ives poked him in the chest, “I was committed to this project. Unlike you.”

Tim frowned.

“I was too committed. Behold,” he lifted a green mud-crusted travesty that had not aged well, “Rusty the water pistol. Never got in a water gun fight without him. And look! My pog collection.”

“You mean my pog collection.”

Tim shrugged, “Our pog collection.”

“You are both the nerdiest nerds who ever nerded in the eighth grade. I don’t know why I expected differently.” Bernard sighed.

“I did warn you, buddy.” Ives laughed.

Bernard muttered something unintelligible, but it set Ives off on a lecture about the impact of popular culture. Tim took it as a much-needed distraction.

It wouldn’t have done Tim any good to have remembered the lock combination anyway. The lock wasn’t as old as it should have been. And while the capsule was filled with mementos from younger years, there were two small evidence bags at the bottom that were Batman standard issue.

They were hair samples.

Easily researched. Easily pocketed.

Tim breathed a sigh of relief as he quietly slipped them into the back of his jeans.

That had… not gone nearly as badly as he anticipated. He reminded himself that it wasn’t quite over yet. After all, he owed Ives pizza.

Ives and Bernard were still arguing amicably.

One of the reasons Ives never had too many friends as a kid was because most people couldn’t understand that the guy’s favorite form of conversation was a heated debate. When he felt like conversing at all outside of Wizards and Warlocks.

Bernard… well, Bernard just decided when someone was his friend and treated any attempts to escape his friendship as an amusing joke. It worked for him. But he also had a tendency to look down his nose at people who fit too neatly into a category, and Ives tended to wear his categories loud and proud. So it was… curious.

“So, how did you guys meet?”

Ives and Bernard paused and then grinned in unison.

“Elizabeth Spillgrave.”

Who? It took Tim a moment. Right.

Elizabeth Spillgrave. Real name: Jodie Weise. Internationally recognized alien conspiracy theorist, and one of Ives favorite authors. Or least favorite, depending how one looked at it. He always holed up in his room on the day one of her books released, reading voraciously. He would spend the next two weeks debunking her entire book paragraph by paragraph. Sometimes with charts if he was feeling particularly zealous and homework wasn’t challenging him enough.

Tim blinked, “And you became friends over this?”

It didn’t seem possible. Because while Ives was the sort to spend two weeks disproving the sort of theories that were the woman’s bread and butter, Bernard was just the sort to spend the same amount of time proving it. Or perhaps editing how such events would be possible, turning each paragraph into a spring board for his own theories. He would stop short of making charts, though. Bernard thought excessive chart-making was for nerds.

Ives shrugged, “We were both late to her book signing last year, and had to team up on scalping tickets to get into the VIP meet and greet.”

“We shared mutual disappointment that she could but spare us two minutes each, even after all that hassle.” Bernard sighed.

Ives rolled his eyes, “And then he started going on about his idea that the UFO’s mentioned in her last book might be Kryptonian. From a hundred years ago.”

“Magic is a thing, Sebastian.”

“They’re aliens, Bernard. Superman is vulnerable to magic. He’s not going to carry around something that could kill him.”

“Humans do it all the time.”

They continued on as they packed up their tools and piled into Ives’ car. Tim didn’t get a word in edge-wise to ask where they were going, but he quickly recognized the route Ives was taking. Pizza Planet, appropriately enough.

He pulled the clear evidence bags from his pocket to glance at them once more.

One contained extremely short snips of dirty blond hair. The other contained a single jet-black lock that looked like it had been curled around someone’s finger before getting cut.

Both sets were sufficient for a DNA database search.

Tim sat back in his seat.

First pizza, then catching up with the two civilian friends who were still speaking to him, maybe some nostalgic passing around of ye olde Game Boy, and then…

Answers.