A Superhero Doesn't Need Family

I'm in New York.
I've never actually been to New York before, so this is my brain's very stylized version. Walkways on the ground and spiraling into the sky are filled with people of all kinds, bustling to their destinations in complete ignorance of the other people around them. There are vendors with hover-carts chasing the pedestrians, trying to sell their wares-- hot greasy foods and cheap nicknacks and second-hand jewelry. I really want to enter one of the third-tier bookshops to browse around, but I am here, like everyone else, for a specific purpose. I keep on flying through the crowded streets, searching for the sign that will say "Mulligan & Son's Time-Repair Shop." I have a message to deliver.

At last, I spot it-- a dinky, run-down shop on the bottom level of the city, the windows boarded up, the "Closed" sign swinging half-heartedly in the wind made by passing cars on their way to the Skyramp.

I knock tentatively on the stained door, peer in through the window. I know he is here. Syca told me he would be, and she is not often wrong.

"Hello?" I call out. There is a slight lull in the traffic behind me, so I quickly extract one of Prof. Willa's new devices, and unlock and open the door without ever having to touch it. I don't want fingerprints here. That might give some indication of exactly who did what I'm about to do...and I don't want him to become biased by that knowledge.

I slip inside and make my way to the back of the shop, where a pile of old clocks and assorted clutter dominates a small workdesk. Using the device, I carefully lift the Object from my coat pocket and place it on top of the pile. I place the Letter beside it. Sometimes, you see, super heroes can save lives in obscure and non-aggressive ways...

I expect that when the Hermit Child comes tentatively out of the back room to discover who has come, he will immediately notice the new items, and their significance. He will realize that the loss of his father does not mean he can no longer do the world any good-- that he can perpetuate his father's legacy through his own struggle for right. I remember his sardonic comment that "A superhero doesn't need family. While they are busy out saving the rest of the world, their family gets left behind or held prisoner or killed. They trade the lives of those close to them for the power to defeat what most people suppose is the greater evil. The truth is, they invite pain and destruction upon themselves. They ignore their loved ones in the pursuit of glory. They are nothing but hypocrites." The Hermit told Syca that he could never forgive the pain caused when his father was murdered. His father who just happened to cross the path of a supervillain. The villain who just happened to desire information on the lower-tier super force his son had recently and not-so-inconspicuously joined. It was one of life's unfortunate happenings, and no one could have predicted its emergence-- but now, with this letter and gift from his father, which he never had the chance to send, I hope to inspire Daniel not to grow embittered at the world, but rather to keep fighting that which distracts us from our greatest priority of love, both in our foes and ourselves.

I cannot say what was in the letter, nor can I divulge the nature of the object. All I can say is: with an open mind, they have the power either to heal or destroy the world. It is the heart which divides this power. I hope that he makes the right choice. In the end, we are all one big family, the Human Race-- though a very large, dysfunctional, maniacal one. We tend to get in scraps too big for us.