Stitches sat, legs crossed, on the small bench as he ate his donut. It was a gas station donut, which would ordinarily mean that it tasted like spoons and sadness, but in this case, it was a good old-fashioned glazed cruller. It was pretty good, either way. He chewed on it thoughtfully as he read his daily newspaper. He could have read it on his phone, but he was more than a little old.

The front page was dedicated to an interesting piece of news. Apparently, someone had sprayed graffiti on the Everywhere memorial. The obsidian obelisk just in front of the Tower had received a few choice images on its sides. The unusual part was that the cameras in front of the Tower hadn't picked up anyone. If anything, the reporter discussing the incident felt that it was almost as though Everywhere himself had done the deed.

Taking a bite out of his donut, he licked his finger and turned the page. The Well of Monsters was in upheaval over the death of one of their citizens and were threatening to leave their gigantic island to hunt down the killer. International governments were trying to calm them down before any major problems began. Stitches snorted when he read it. He could remember when the Well was just called Australia.

Running his eyes down the next page, his forehead furrowed as he saw the obituaries. Four heroes had died yesterday. One was an unfortunate battle against Bulwark, a powerful villain whose invulnerability and strength made him a terrifying enemy. The other three, however, were what drew his attention.

All three of them had died in Smallstone park, from a new villain. It'd been brutal. It hadn't been much of an autopsy. There was barely anything left of them by the time the park opened back up. The only way to even tell who they were was from an extremely thorough DNA check. From a variety of certain time manipulation abilities, the Tower had figured out that a strange figure - one with cloning abilities, teleportation, quite a few incredibly powerful abilities - had been responsible for their deaths. From what they could tell, he'd eaten them alive. A terrifying enemy. The media had already given him a name - He of Many Eyes. With an abbreviation of Home, of all things.

He wondered if they were the same three heroes Bain had encountered yesterday. He knew he should feel bad about it, but he kind of didn't mind if that turned out to be the case. Part of him had wanted to go after them himself, but he knew he wouldn't have ended up doing so.

Bain jogged over to him, looking ready to do something. "Hey, Stitches! What're you doing?"

Stitches shrugged, turning another page. "Just checking up on the daily news. Where's your little friend?"

"I dropped her off with Nahma. I don't know if it'll go all that well, but he raised me, so I'm sure he can take care of her for a few days. It's not like he's going to adopt her or something."

Nodding agreeably, Stitches turned his attention back to his newspaper. The information sank in a moment later and his head snapped back up. "Wait, what?"

Heading inside, Bain turned to look at him. "What is it?"

Folding his newspaper and setting it down, Stitches rose, one eyebrow raised. "You took the probably traumatized, very young monster girl... and took her to quite literally the most dangerous and most powerful creature in Centropolis?"

Bain nodded. "Yeah. My dad." He walked into the building without saying anything else, and Stitches contemplated the simple response. Shrugging, he curled his lip in mild agreement and sat back down.

Several minutes later, the air in front of him shimmered and a shedding appeared. Looking up, Stitches indicated it with his donut. "Y'ello. It's Gren, right?"

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The shedding's eyes narrowed, a barely suppressed hiss building in the back of its throat. "No. I look nothing like Gren."

Stitches rolled his eyes. How was he supposed to tell the difference? "I take it you're here to see Bain?"

The shedding shook its head, the motion sliding down its body. "I would not be here to see you. I am here with a message from Benedict. He wanted us to tell you to..." It frowned as it recalled the request. "...to get your electronics up and running, specifically television and phones. What are phones?" It added curiously.

Stitches mused on the information. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Any chance you'd be willing to help with that?" He asked hopefully.

It didn't bother trying to hide it this time. It hissed at him. "Only if Bain asks, corpse."

He sighed dramatically. It ignored him, scuttling past him to go inside the cube. He could hear it talking with Bain, asking how he was doing.

Thinking for a moment, Stitches wondered when the last time someone had asked him how he was doing was. It'd been... too long, if it took him that long to remember. With a sudden movement, he stood up, calling, "Hey, Bain! I'm going to head to the Tower for a bit. I'll be back before long, all right?"

Bain shouted from inside, "Okay! See you later!" His voice dropped again as he continued talking with the shedding, conversationally asking how the young monster girl was doing, what the shedding had been up to, and other common topics that Stitches didn't want to be a part of.

He set off with a slight spring in his step, tucking the newspaper under his arm and whistling. If he wanted to see some of his old friends, there wasn't any rule against that, right?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Wandering into the lobby of the Tower brought back memories. He couldn't remember the first time he'd walked in, however many decades ago that was, but he knew so many of the faces walking around him. 

Passing the secretary, he gave her a sloppy salute and a grin, and she gave him a familiar smile. Heading to the elevators, he slipped into one just as its doors were closing. Pushing the button for Tinker's workshop, he stood back, humming gently.

He heard a faint noise, just outside his field of perception, and looked to his left. There was a young heroine, catlike-eyes wide in surprise and fuzzy ears folded back on the top of her head. He smiled at her. "G'morning!"

Her eyes somehow got even wider, and she made a barely audible squeak. Not entirely sure how to deal with that, he gave her a more awkward smile and stayed quiet. A few seconds later, the elevator doors opened and he stepped out. As the doors were closing behind him, he heard the cat-heroine shout, "Wait! I-"

The doors closed, and he wondered vaguely what that was all ab-

"STITCHES!"

He jumped to attention, then forced himself to relax, berating himself as he did. It was just a casual meetup between friends, it wasn't the end of the world.

Seeing the short mechanic stomping towards him, frizzy hair in an untamed mane around her head and eyes slitted in perpetual fury, he decided that maybe he should come back later. Turning back to the elevator, he was stopped by a massive claw, blocking the elevator. 

Spinning around, he was just in time to see Tinker jump in a short hop, yanking him by the top of the shirt down until he was at eye level. He managed a weak grin. "Hey, Tinker. How're you doing?"

Her eyes narrowed impossibly further. "So, I heard you met with Nahma."

He blinked, frowning. "Wait, how did you-"

"Benedict told me." She cut him off tersely, then grinned in way reminiscent of a shark. "So, what was his carapace like? I've heard it's the toughest material on the planet."

He raised a finger, off-balance from her pull. "I can't really tell you. I only talked to one of his sheddings."

She raised an eyebrow. "His... what?"

Stitches sighed. This was going to be a long conversation. Well, he could just skip over certain parts of it until-

"Ah, Stitches. How are you doing?"

His head hung. He didn't know how Benedict got along so well with Tinker, but the well-to-do man had been able to ride Tinker's tantrums like a dapper surfer. He snorted to himself at the mental picture of Benedict surfing while wearing his suit, probably sipping a cup of tea.

Benedict's head wove into his view. "Stitches? Is everything all right?"

Stitches sighed. "I got your message from the sheddings. Tinker, I, uh... need your help."

She grinned widely. "Sorry, what was that?" 

He grimaced at the effort. "I. need. your. help."

She nodded, cupping a hand around her ear. "Man, my hearing just isn't what it used to be, Benedict. Did you hear what he said?" 

Benedict shook his head in amusement. "I certainly didn't. Stitches, would you overly mind repeating yourself again?"

Stitches groaned out loud. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?