Pain. Pain was nothing new. Lately his whole world seemed to be defined by pain. He might be stronger, faster, and more powerful than other men, but he still felt pain. His life was defined by the constant struggle against those looking to hurt what was left of the world he loved. With Amanda gone that wasn’t much. Even now he was fighting for… for what? Even as he fought the latest villain in a long, incessant slew of evil, he felt empty. What difference had he made? He bought time. That was all. His tireless watch over the world would end one day. Not from age; he had long ago secured his immortality in that sense, but through his illusion of invincibility. He was tough, but not invincible. One day, he would slip up, be defeated, and then what? Sure, there were others, but they too would only last so long. Over time, some would be corrupted by their own power, others would die, the new would replace the old, and his life’s work would be for naught.

Only Amanda had truly held meaning. He had fought for her countless times, bled for her, nearly died for her, just to know that the next day her smile would be there waiting; inviting him to join her in a land of love and bliss. Now that land was cold and desolate. He stalked cold, grey corridors, trudging tirelessly toward the center of a maze that held the fruits of another destructive plot by another sadistic man. As he walked he dispatched security; obstacles in his path, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he could think was that only four months ago he had held her in his arms, and now here he was living the same life of pain without the only thing that had given him solace.

Finally he reached the center of the labyrinth. The Mastermind, one of the monotonous egomaniacs who always came back to haunt him time and time again; was fully prepared for the usual routine, but this time the hero had lost patience for routine. This man was beyond redemption. He stalked through lethal traps and destroyed everything in his path with a cold rage. When he reached the villain, he beat him. The man begged for mercy, but he gave him none. Finally, he prepared to deliver the final strike… and stopped. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he was, to deliver the final strike; even to this man who the lord knew deserved it. Sighing, he scooped the man up, and flew him out into the world to be returned to the justice that had already failed him.

……………………….

After depositing the villain, he returned to his lonely city flat… and stared at the wall. His apartment held little to interest him at this moment. A basement he used as his lab, some bedrooms. No Amelia. He felt empty. Once again, he was just passing time. Everything around him was filled with the concept of time. In a few weeks, a few months, the Mastermind would be back, with some other ingenious idea, and there the he would be, as the Judge, to buy the world a few more months. A hundred years down the line, there he would probably still be, still buying the world that few more months against the next crop of crazies that succeeded the current cabal.

He was going stir crazy. He needed a friend, but the Judge didn’t have friends. Only partners. Sighing, he took off the mask. Jon had friends. That’s what he called himself when he wasn’t wearing the mask. Sometimes he wondered who was the mask and who was real, but really the difference meant little. It was only a question of how he was looked at. His friends looked at him with pity. To them he was the man that had just experienced a loss. The Judge was looked at with pride, and suspicion. A man who knew nothing of loss, nothing of pain, but at the same time was a target for the uniquely American urge to tear down their heroes. Resolving to separate himself from his melancholy, he donned the uniform of the Judge once again, and coasted out his upstairs window. Rising, he rocketed himself towards the roof of the world. It had been so long since he had done this. Just… flown. No crisis brewing, no destination, just him sitting on a cloud watching the heavens alight in a gold-red sunset made vibrant by the city vista stretching before him. Time flowed, and he sat, drinking in the sight before him, but all sunsets must end. As the night came on, he listened to the city of Argent beneath him with ears enhanced by his own genetic engineering.

He may have started out as a garden variety genius, but he had taken his science to god-like levels. He wondered if he was even human anymore. He played at being a professor, while donning the mask of the Judge, champion of justice. Taught science he had surpassed decades ago in his bid for knowledge. He talked about ongoing research into things he had long-since mastered. His initial findings had propelled him into a world of self-engineering few would ever realize… at least for a little while. There it was again. Time. In time, people would catch up. His science would be matched, and all he could do was try to keep ahead. If he didn’t then he would simply disappear into the annals of history. Humanity marched ever forward, and he must march ever ahead or be lost in its wake. He felt guilty. Every moment he spent contemplating, someone somewhere was getting mugged, raped, murdered, and here he was sitting in the clouds dreaming about the brutality of time. Instead, he could be acting on the brutality of man. He descended to a better vantage point, listening for the telltale sounds of violence. Hearing them, he flew to his destination.

A young woman in an alley was being attacked by garden variety thugs. The kind you see working the streets in bad movies about criminals. By the time he got there she was unconscious. He quickly dispatched them, but when he glanced at her something inside him cracked. She bore a striking resemblance to Amanda. Long brown hair framed a rounded face, spooling past a healthy, though not curvaceous figure. Looking at her it felt like fighting for her again. He was overcome by emotion, and sat down, leaning against the wall of the alley crying. As he did this she regained consciousness. He didn’t notice, overcome as he was. She looked around, and upon seeing him and the state of her attackers, she went over to him.

“Sir, are you alright?” She said.

“No, I’m not. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” He replied.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He was grateful that his mask hid his tears from this vision of Amanda, as he slowly got to his feet. “Ma’am you’re the one who’s just been attacked. Let’s focus on helping you.”

He collected the unconscious men to deliver them to the police. She watched him quietly, and neither said anything. Finally she broke the silence, handing him a card. It was a business card with a professional looking design giving the number of a local accountant’s office.

“This is my number” she said. “I’m the manager of the office, and if you ever need anything, even just to talk; my business number and my personal cell are both on this card. Thank you for saving me.”

She gave him a light kiss on the cheek and walked off. He couldn’t help but notice the way she walked. Her gait had a beautiful symmetry to it. Her legs moved precisely with a grace born from a clear attention to detail. She had a precision to her that appealed to the scientist in him. As a man of numbers and science he was in a unique position to recognize her innate beauty. Shaking the feeling he continued with his night according to his normal routine, but it no longer felt like a routine. He felt like he had when Amanda was still alive. He looked at the card, seeing the name for the fiftieth time. “Danica Spring.” He liked the flow of her name; the peacefulness of it. He felt the world inside his head, the one once inhabited by Amanda, quiver and stir. Perhaps for all the despair brought to him by time, it had also brought him hope.

…………………….

When he returned to his flat there was a dark presence sitting in the corner. It was a fellow crime-fighter, but the Judge had always hesitated to call him a hero. Where the IJudge tried to change the world through living to a higher standard, this man operated through the application of fear. He had never truly crossed the line as such, but his dark message had always bothered Jon. It seemed short-sighted to attempt to control men through fear. Trying to do so had a historical tendency to backfire. Still the hero had to accept him despite how much the man’s habit of appearing and disappearing irritated him. He was a tall, solidly built man. He had a mane of long dark hair, with a pale white face. His hair, his irises, everything about him was dark and imposing. Luckily Jon was still wearing the Judge suit because he would have felt ridiculous trying to talk to this man without it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Zed?” the Judge said.

“The Circle of Heroes is preparing a gathering to discuss the continuing wave of crime that has been propagating across the world. Since I am the only one who knows how to contact you I was tasked with making sure you were informed.” Zed handed him a card with a time and a location. As the Judge looked at the card, the dark figure looked at him appraisingly, taking in his haggard appearance, or as much as could be seen beneath the mask. “Jon… you know that Amanda wasn’t your fault.”

Jon was startled. This was unusual for the Crow; he was normally stoic and impassive. Jon couldn’t remember a time when he had tried to engage anyone on a personal level. At the same time he did feel somewhat comforted. For all that he disagreed with the man’s methods or habits, he trusted him. He had a high opinion of the man’s thoughts, as they almost always proved valid, and highly intelligent.

“I know it’s not my fault, but without her my life has no meaning. I will live forever, and I never realized what that meant until now. Sometimes I feel like I’m going partially insane.”

Zed considered this for a second, his cold black eyes shining reflectively in the light. Jon had often wondered if he wore contacts to get such pure black irises, but had never asked .

“Social life isn’t my area of expertise, but I recommend you find a connection to the outside world. Now I must go. I will see you at the gathering.”

With that Zed folded back into the shadows and was gone. Taking off his costume, Jon ruminated on what had been said. He took out the card Danica had given him and stared at it. Eventually he resolved that he would call her tomorrow, and prepared for bed. He still had a day’s worth of classes ahead of him tomorrow.