Though shock and awkwardness followed me wherever I went, I did enjoy walking through town. I went for ice cream. Or, rather, as many free samples as the workers would tolerate. They offered me a free cone after six tries, in desperation and pity, but I refused. It was more about the flavors than the quantity of sugar.

My taste buds had changed from what I remembered. Sugar was still sweet, but it was not the addiction it once had been. It was gross in any significant quantity. No doubt my gut flora had become accustomed to meat, primarily.

I went through the local bread shop and took in the smells as well. All of it was nice, but it was not nostalgic like I had expected it to be. My old life was far away, I had discovered. Its joys couldn't be made to be authentic again, not with the changes that permeated my entire body. Nowadays, I thought more about what it would take to walk to the north pole or across the Sahara, past monsters and endless battlefields. The environmental challenges alone would unlock entirely new visions of what my self could be.

While I was taking my time jaunting about on Mainstreet, causing people to walk the other way, I continued to ruminate on what Rusty had taught me. There were two options for me here, in society. Anonymity or persecution.

I could remain a homeless person, spending the few dollars I made on hollow comforts that had appealed to my former self. Down that path, I could see no further than a motel bed and a cheap hooker. Neither appetized. Or, I could try to make something of myself. Inevitably, the living ape-man would be asked the obvious question, and that all would fall apart.

If I tried to grow in owned space, I would always be knocked down. Still, the ocean held no reward for me. What was the point of growth if your only gain was mastery over a blue wasteland? Though they existed, I had never run up against any aquatic Heroes down there, and that was for a reason.

There was nothing to do or fight over down there except the land above. It was raw emptiness. I didn't try to explain it, and I knew that evolution was supposed to have no direction, but I could not help but see all life as reaching upwards. To the heavens. And no living thing would bear the emptiness if it had the strength to rise out of it.

While I sat thinking beneath the oak trees' shade, out in front of the old Baptist Church, I heard a familiar sound. In only a single short burst this time, a police siren went off down the street. I rolled my eyes in response, seeing the car approach.

Not ready to make my next move yet, I simply watched it slow down to greet me. If this was going to be my eviction notice, so be it, but I wouldn't admit guilt by running.

To my chagrin, the windows rolled down to reveal Terrance at the wheel of the car. He squinted disapprovingly at my presence out in the open, giving me a cynical appraisal. There would be no playing innocent with this guy. Today was indeed my last day in this town.

He pulled into the church parking lot and out of sight. I waited dutifully for him to come and sit down beside me, not feeling the need to try and hide from a lecturing. He put a pair of dark sunglasses on and joined me in watching the pedestrians go by at a distance. At least with him, I decided, there was no need to lie or hide my real nature.

"You don't have to say it," I told him. We both knew my plan to blend in had failed. It was only a matter of time before someone put two and two together. Deformities didn't create a perfectly strange proto-human. Powers did.

"A five-year-old could tell the difference between your Powered form and the hairy Italian look you were going for. You look like Darwin's cryptid lovechild, Sir." He nodded to himself, satisfied with his own estimation of just how badly I had failed.

"Are you done?" I said. "Because I'm not stupid, man. I look good enough that I could live in the woods and sell empty cans at the dump for spare change, but that's it. I can't live like that and I won't go to prison, okay?" I crossed my arms pensively, staring away at the clouds. "I've got to be more than that."

Terrance corrected me. "You wouldn't even make it that far. Everybody on the street knows you're a Super. They can see it written all over you, they just don't think it's their problem. You're too inhuman. And you sit up too straight."

I peaked an eyebrow at that particular comment but realized he was right. My posture was good and my eyes were confident, unafraid to meet others. It was not the composure of the downtrodden or poor. It was the look of someone who had decided they would do anything to reach their highest potential. That, together with the idiosyncrasies of my look made it a dead giveaway.

I sighed. "Salt on the wound, then. Thanks."

"You don't understand, Walter..." He turned to look at me, letting that name sink in. "No matter what you do, America is just not your place. It's too tightly controlled. Too Powerful for anyone to grow under without being stuck in a shadow."

He knew my name. For it to be identifiably by my Power alone, that could only mean one thing. "There's a warrant out for me?" I asked.

"No. It's an internal Seraph bulletin from Former District Leader, Ironbolt. After our run-in, I decided to do some digging. You needed to be made aware, Walter. If even a peep gets out about someone with your abilities... they'll know you're still alive. They've estimated you at a potential Class One. Not to be taken lightly for dead."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I thought back to Ironbolt and all his schemes. "What do you stand to gain?"

He only scoffed. "You're so goddamn cynical. You're just like him. Exactly the same..."

Suddenly, I understood why he was helping me. Remembering back to the diner, he had hinted at someone he knew. Someone, it seemed, that he had failed to save. "Like your friend?"

"I think about him a lot," Terrance admitted to me, confirming the suspicion. "You both hated the draft, only... he wasn't as resolute about dodging it as you. I told you, people like you and him don't last long in the war, and I know that from experience. One in a hundred are Supers, remember? A lot of people have stories like mine. Friends that died. Not all of us are so idealistic about the casualties. At least, not when they become a reality."

"What happened to him?" I asked. As if I didn't already know.

Terrance hung his head. Leaving me in suspense, he thoughtfully withdrew a cigarette from the pack he kept in his breast pocket. Before finally continuing, he breathed deeply to relax and clear his mind. The emotions were still raw. "Simon. That was his name. We grew up together in this town, me and him. His Powers manifested early at school. Like a lot of people, his parents had taken him straight to the hospital. As soon as he turned eighteen, they knew exactly where he was. Unwilling to fight or run, he joined up that same day. On his birthday. He died on his first damn mission after that. They sent him up north against the Tyrant King of the Iron Keep. You know, the Zed Class Baron and one of the Six Kings?"

"I know them," I said.

"Well, Simon's Power was to turn invisible. He could carry items with himself, too. High utility, but no more than a Class Four. Long story short, after two months of training for the attempt, they sent him to assassinate the guy with a small thermonuclear weapon in his arms."

"Jesus Christ," I said. "A suicide mission?"

He grimaced. "The point is, I have no love for politicians or Seraph, and I don't want to see one more soul mulched in their machine. There are plenty of willing volunteers, but that's not enough for them. America is the head and body of the UN Superforce. Even against the Six Kings and all their Barons, we're not underdog rebels holding back the night. We're... the world. And while we all appreciate that we live in a free country, not as some Super Supremacist's slaves, the Cause for freedom is not a free license to violate the very principles we're supposed to be the sole defenders of."

He offered me a cigarette, but I turned him down. I'd never tried before but imagined it to be an acquired taste. "I agree. What good are values if you have to contradict them to win. But... you're really trying to crush my spirit, aren't you? You want me to go hide in the woods like you think Simon should have, to survive."

"No, I know that's no life. Simon died because, even though he hated the system, he feared its enemies more." Terrance took off his sunglasses and met my gaze with his own intensity. Serious as death, he told me, "That's the mistake we all make, waiting around on dead principles, Walter. We can't give in or give up in the face of corruption, even if that means siding against the very home we want to protect. There's only one choice left. You have to escape to the Baronies. That's the only place a Super can be free now."

My eyes widened. "I wanted to be left alone, not join up with totalitarian warlords."

"Go South," he said, trying to explain. "Below the Expanded Territories, to the Crystal Paradise of the Conquistador." Terrance brought out his phone and showed me the map. "I've been thinking about this for six years, Walter. Since before Simon's death, when he and I discussed running away together. I pleaded for him to go, but he was terrified of the Powers there, so he resigned himself to those here. He wasn't tough, like you. But you could make a life where he couldn't, and you could flourish. No one would bother or coerce you there, as long as you keep your head down. The Crystal Gangs don't give a shit about monsters because there's a constant flow of Kizmets coming out of the South American Kingdom..."

I had gone silent, letting him talk and lay out his heartfelt idea. What he was saying was tantamount to advocating explicit political violence in our world. It was worse than that. Mere spoken support of the Baronies was prosecutable treason, even in America. The cult of the Six Kings was beyond taboo. The Conquistador himself posed the number one domestic threat, as the largest gang leader in our half of the world.

For all my rebelliousness, I had never sympathized with the Super Supremacists. They were Power worshippers. I only wanted to be left alone to grow, not shackled to some neo-royalist Imperial fantasy. But the one thing you could say about the Cult, despite all the insanity, "They always respected selfishness." I couldn't believe what I was saying. "If they decide it's worth the time, they may enslave me for their own interest... But at least they wouldn't try to leash me... on principle. They're just not capable of that."

The Barons, for all their spectacular, godlike Power, ran uncivilized societies. The Six Kings might have sold themselves as omnipotent, but they were far from omnipresent. In Baronies, there was hardly any organized state at all beyond an explicit military hierarchy. Crystal Paradise was one such place.

The idea rattled in my brain. This was the solution to my dilemma. Not to return to the abyss of unclaimed nature, or the stricture of controlled civilization. Where I belonged was somewhere on the edge, with room to breathe, between the desolate waste and suffocating control.

"I've been cruising around looking for you since we last talked," Terrance said. "I realized that I couldn't let the same thing happen twice. If I had it all to do over again, I would smuggle Simon past the damn wall myself, kicking and screaming if need be. Anything to stop a senseless death. You have no idea what that's like on your conscience."

"I can't imagine," I said. "This all... somehow makes sense. It's what I needed to hear. It can't hurt that it gets me out of your town too, huh?"

"Yeah, this works for me in a lot of ways. It works for you, too. And neither of us wants the other option. Conflict. Don't forget that it can usually work out that way, Walter."

Finally, I stood up from the bench and looked up through the branches of the oak. Then, I laughed, extending my hand one last time for Terrance to shake. "Thank you for everything," I said.

He flicked away his cigarette. "I don't ever want to see you again. But it was nice meeting you, anyway."

Those were the last words we shared. Terrance took to his cruiser and left me standing on the sidewalk as he drove away. The beachfront restaurants were teeming with life, and cars filled the area. I was sure he had work to do, as did I. After standing around to watch for a little while longer, I went on towards the pier.

I came to lean against the railing there, and I set my eyes on the ocean. The various fishermen ignored me, even as I considered jumping.

The Southern Border, which ran across the bottom of what used to be Mexico, would not be easy to cross. The ocean was a generally safer bet if I wanted to avoid trouble. Otherwise, I'd have the military on one side and the gangs on my other. I risked being discovered by Seraph, and Death was not utterly off the table yet, either.

With a light push off, I turned away from the railing. It was going to be a long walk. That was for sure. No matter what, there would be no turning back. Sea monsters were old hat. It was time for a greater adventure.