A heartbreaker, she called him. Like Shiro, from what his mom told him. The first thing he ever learned about the man. Jordan barely understood Maria, his fraternal parent was a void to him. One he wasn’t sure he needed to worry over. Jordan wouldn’t be another Shiro. He wouldn’t be Maria. It seemed silly to think about, but with how unhappy his mother was all the time, he didn’t think he wanted anything to do with the S.U.N. either. If she was an Agent, a Technician, or whatever else. It clearly brought no joy to her life.

She removed him from her past, forsaking it. He no desire to connect to Shiro. There was an answer, half formed, drifting in the darkness. Something he could reach out and touch almost. A revolver partially completed. A sword still being forged. If he could reach it, grasp it in his hand, he felt he could understand his place in the world better. He could understand who he wanted to be.

The world around him went by as he wrapped himself in his own mind. Meditation was something he remembered Frank calling it, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t really care if he was being honest. This was something he started doing to cope with his loneliness. It was pleasant, letting the outside wash away, dedicating everything to whatever troubled him. Soothing. Time itself slowed. He could visualize clouds growing still in the air and the lackadaisical traffic outside the bus grinding to a halt.

It never lasted, a familiar feeling on his shoulder telling him Gia arrived. His eyes opening, he saw her worried gaze. He realized she was trying to get his attention for a while now, him completely oblivious.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was trying to say good morning. How are you?”

Jordan frowned. What should he say? Finally, he settled on the truth. “I don’t know.” There was a tightness to his chest, a pain in his heart. “I really don’t.”

He missed the soft expression on Gia’s face, the light blush that appeared. “If you need anything, you know, you can talk to me,” she said. “I’m always here.”

Without thinking, he took her hand still on his shoulder and grasped it. “I know. Thank you,” he said, smiling to himself.

He held it for a moment before letting go, never looking back at his friend whose face went scarlet. Never seeing the all too pleased look settle over her.

“You might be sad, but don’t forget,” Gia said. “No matter how dark the clouds are they’ll go away. After a storm, the sun will be shining.”

Maybe another time Jordan would have found this corny. Maybe he would have made fun of her trying to be sentimental. That’s what boys did, he found. That’s what he did, trying to be like them. Right now, he felt like he needed corniness. It felt right.

It reminded him of one of his favorite movies. Maria loved Spaghetti Westerns and he ended up seeing quite a few. Both with and without her, going through her collection of laserdiscs. It reminded him of the hero of a few of those movies and made him imagine himself in their place. Riding on horseback, free from his stress and worries, seeking adventure. Doing what he felt was right.

That’s not who he was. Reality came down on him again, as unforgiving as gravity. Despite his flights of fancy, he would never be a cowboy. He would never be a superhero. His good mood turned bitter as his thoughts wandered to what his mother was. She wasn’t a hero. She was bound by duty, nothing else.

“Gia what do you think about S.U.N. Agents?”

“The SUN are a bunch of fascists hiding behind badges, is what my dad says.”

“Your dad was in the military right?”

“Yeah. Marines. He got to see some of the fighting firsthand,” Gia said.

Gia’s father was disabled, having lost a leg and half of his hand in ’84. Jordan never needed to ask how. The PTSD from the incident would flare up too often. His thoughts limped back to Maria.

“Do you think that’s true though? About them being bad guys?”

Gia bit her lip. “I don’t know. The Agents are just soldiers that work for them, right? So, maybe they’re fine. But the leaders, they supposedly to do some shady stuff. Stuff in Africa and China, my dad says, that the media isn’t allowed to report on.”

“Why would an Agent do something wrong, just because they’re told to?”

“That’s part of following orders, Jordan. Why the sudden interest?”

He didn’t have time to think of an excuse. The bus lurched to a stop, Frank getting on with a larger batch of kids than usual. Jordan waved to him. He handed back his comic, which distressingly had the cover bent. Frank looked apologetic but Jordan waved off an explanation.

“It’s fine,” he signed. “Did you like it?”

He did a so-so motion.

“That’s too bad,” he said. He looked at the book, the cover depicting Superman’s cape, shredded, fluttering in the wind like a war-torn flag. Another day he would have gone into it, asked what he didn’t like and what he thought could have been done better. Today he wasn’t feeling it. He slipped the book into his bag.

Frank signed that it was fine to him. He didn’t get it. It seemed too hopeless and bleak.

Jordan agreed that it wasn’t happy. He didn’t think that was a problem. Not everything needed to be happy. He tried to think of how to phrase what was in his mind but the words wouldn’t come.

Frank frowned but nodded. He signed to Jordan that he could tell something was off.

“I’ll be fine,” he said aloud. “I just need to put some things away.”

Jordan looked back to the end of the bus. Steph was alone, sitting near a window, staring. Her expression was blank. It was curious.

Gia glanced back when he motioned to her.

“I thought you said she was popular?”

“She was. Rumors can be vicious, and she’s had a lot. Still, it sucks. No one deserves to be treated like that,” she said.

Frank tapped his arm. He wanted to know why Superman never flew Doomsday into space. If he can fly, Frank reasoned, he should be able to. He was a hero, right? Jordan rolled his eyes. He only got started explaining how strong Doomsday was when TJ crashed down next to Gia, some of the final kids getting onboard.

“What is up losers!”

Familiar bickering bubbled to the surface, a calming atmosphere filling the air. The bus would make another stop to pick up the rest that would be coming on it, and then it would synch up with the other buses for the trip proper.

The three of them made him feel better. Brought him from where he sunk. He was feeling better. He’d have to confront these questions soon, but for now, he was fine. All he needed was them.