“Protector No More”

He laughs — or tries to. Because that’s what heroes do, right? They smile through the cracks, they make jokes when the world’s already gone silent.

But the laugh dies halfway. Just like everything else did.

He stares at the empty streets of Wakefield, the bikes are rusting, the baseball field buried in dust, and the ghost of every name he swore to protect echoing back at him. “Protector of Friends,” he used to say. “Defender of the Realm.” Now the title feels heavy, like armor made of guilt.

He still wears that stupid grin sometimes — the one everyone loved, the one he used to hide behind when the world fell apart. But at night, when no one’s left to see, his hands shake. The silence talks back. And he wonders if being a hero means being alone forever.

Because maybe saving the world doesn’t mean you get to keep it. Maybe it means standing in the ruins, smiling through the ache, and pretending you don’t hear your heart breaking over and over again.

Take care of Jack. Angst. He needs you more than anything else in the world.