Breakfast consisted of cold milk and cereal.

I sat alone at the dining table, watching the grains slosh around in my bowl. A silence of sorts perfused the living room. It bounced off the walls and furniture, grating with its lack of substance. A soundless din. If such a thing ever existed.

The clock read a quarter to seven. Fifteen more minutes till the driver came for me. I tidied up my bowl and exited the common area, arriving in silence at my little corner of the base.

The room that had been my home for the past five weeks swung open with a sigh. It lay bare now, stripped of the personalty that made it my space. The wardrobe and bathroom stood empty, nary a razor visible in sight. The desk rested against the wall, sporting a single handbook.

My copy of the GAG book on superpowers, huh? I’d forgotten about that.

I grabbed the handbook and turned to the travel bag sitting at the edge of my bed. It spilled over with my belongings. The gaudy tie mom had gifted me—in what now seemed like ages ago—sat atop the pile. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. The handbook went into the bag, and the latter went over my shoulder. Taking one last look behind me, I killed the light switch.

Ava waited at the entrance to the boys’ dorms in tank top and loose-fitting sweatpants. A six-pack of canned drinks dangled from her grasp.

“Fingers,” she cooed. “You know I am not a morning person.”

I swept past her.

“Don’t leave,” she said. “Not like this. At the very least, let us say farewell.”

“I really don't care,” I said, irked at the rawness in my voice. “I just want to get this over with.”

Ava linked her arm with mine. “I care.” She shouted her next words. “Alewo!”

Alewo stumbled out of his room in a singlet and boxers. “What? Huh?”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?” Ava said, punching him in the gut. “You promised to wake me once Fingers got moving. Why the heck were you still sleeping?”

Alewo groaned, cradling his stomach. “What time is it?” He took sight of my travel bag and gasped. “Shit.”

“Shit is right,” Ava said, pulling him by the ear.

“Ow!”

“Guys,” I said. “I don't think I'm up for this—”

Ava glanced back at me, a broken look on her face.

I swallowed my complaint and let her pull me to the nearest catwalk. She sat on the cold metal floor, slipping her legs through the railing. Alewo and I followed suit on opposite sides of her.

Ava pressed a can of flavored beer into my hand. “Drink.”

I eyed the label and switched my gaze to the oversized collar clasped around her neck. “Do I want to know how you got these?”

“Stole ‘em from Obong,” Ava said, popping her can.

“Obong drinks alcohol?”

“Obong is human too,” Ava corrected. She knocked back her drink, downing half its contents in one go. “You have a bunch of misconceptions about her, don’t you? Sometimes, a girl just wants to chill under the duvet with air-conditioning, a good book, and a glass of alcohol perched by her hand.”

“Wine, maybe, not beer,” Alewo said, taking a sip. “Obong doesn’t strike me as the type to appreciate a cold one. Then again, she’s dating Toye. I'd drink anything if I were in her shoes.”

“Word,” Ava chuckled. “Obong might come off as prim and proper, but she’s a real piece of work. You'd be surprised at the number of contraband she hides in her room. And those weren't the most interesting things I found. You should have seen her drawer!”

“Hey,” Alewo said, stretching the word. “You shouldn't be breaking into someone else's room.”

“I didn't ask for your opinion, shorty,” Ava replied, lobbing a can tab at his head. “Besides, she invited me to look.”

“I'm not short! I'm of average height.”

“Average in Lilliput, maybe. Would explain your fascination with giant robots. You should name the next one Gulliver Three.”

“Get bent.”

They fell into a round of bickering.

I ignored them, enjoying the taste of sweetened alcohol on my lips.

Alewo smoothened his singlet, peering out over the walkway. “Maybe, we should have invited Obong?”

Ava scoffed. “She would have ruined the mood. She's been crying her eyes out ever since Toye got arrested.”

“More reason to invite her then,” Alewo said.

“I wouldn’t bother. She probably blames Chetachi for Toye’s situation.”

“Oh.” Alewo peeked at me.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You still haven't shared the reason behind your punishment.”

I shrugged. “We got into a fight.”

“I know that. But aren't they treating you unfairly, after all that you did for the team?”

“We got into a serious fight.”

Ava growled, tossing a second can tab at Alewo. “Stop pestering the man. We’re here to send him forth. Not make things worse.”

“Sorry,” Alewo said.

We lapsed into a bout of silence, sipping our drinks.

“So,” I said.

“So,” Ava replied.

“So”—Alewo dropped his can—“this is technically the last time we'll hang out in a while.”

I kept my expression stoic.

“Ava's staying in Lagos until her hearing is done,” Alewo muttered. “Toye’s been sent off to juvie. Chetachi's suspended. And . . .” He paused. “I guess Obong and I are all that are left until you guys return.”

“You forgot AV,” Ava said.

“Yeah, him.” Alewo rubbed at his peach fuzz and lowered his gaze. “I'll miss you guys.”

“Can't say I'll miss you,” Ava snarked. “You're unbearable.”

Alewo’s cheeks reddened. “You're unbearable too, you know that? I was just being nice.”

“Too late.” Ava stuck out her tongue. “You've said it already.”

I swirled the can in my hand, suppressing the vice grip that tightened around my heart. I refused to give voice to my thoughts. But I'd come to see the CAH as home. Nothing awaited me outside these walls, save for a return to the days when I watched impotently as mom struggled to keep our heads above the water.

Sure, I returned home over two million naira richer. But I would also be staying three months. Three months of battling inadequacy all over again.

Ava elbowed me. “I won't have a phone. But I’ll keep in touch whenever I can.”

“You try that,” I answered, “and you'd probably lose your hearing.”

“Boohoo,” she said. “It's about time I blew this joint anyway. They try to send me to the Arm Pit, and my glorious escape is all you’ll see on the news.”

“The Arm Pit, huh?” Alewo piped up. “Isn't that the place we are sending those Four-oh-Four guys? Manbite and Tellmenot?”

I shot him a black look. Way to read the mood, dumdum.

Ava tossed down the last of her drink. “It is.”

“You okay with that?” he asked.

“No. But the matter’s out of my hands now. No point crying over spilled milk.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I'd cry,” Alewo offered, “if it was my favorite brand of milk.”

“That's why you're tubby,” Ava said, patting his shoulder.

Alewo shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “You're never going to stop with the jabs, are you?”

“Nopes. Never.”

“Then I pray your hearing ends in disaster. Enjoy your time in the Pit.”

Ava swooned, placing a hand over her chest. “How cold!”

“Yeah, too bad you’re bony. You could have used the warmth.”

“I know you don’t mean that.”

Alewo smiled. “I don’t.”

My phone beeped at that moment, and I pulled it from my pocket.

Ava and Alewo stilled, watching with wary eyes.

“Driver’s here,” I said, rising to my feet.

Nothing more needed to be said. Alewo offered a fist bump and Ava pulled me into a hug. We separated with mumbled words, and I descended alone to the ground floor, lugging my travel bag behind me.

Catherine stood near the van in the basement car park, whispering to a mask-less Kabash. Her usual clean-cropped hair looked haggard, and her eyes burned red behind her makeup. Large creases marred her skirt suit, worsened by a droopy scarf. She looked up at my approach, and I stumbled at the emptiness in her face.

Kabash followed her gaze. Despite Catherine's drastic changes, he was the more unrecognizable of the two. Dark hair fanned out his head, balding at the edges and peppered with grey. Deep wrinkles traversed a well-worn face. Where before he had been age-mates with Catherine, the man standing beside her now could pass for her father.

He glanced at me, and something must have given on my face because he ducked away, hanging his head. He muttered some final words to Catherine and excused himself, cutting past my path. He patted my shoulder with a thick, flabby arm, bereft of any traces of muscle. Emotion surged like a tide in my chest.

Of the losses we'd taken, Kabash was easily the biggest. Scant little of his old superhero self remained in him, and the sight caused a lump in the back of my throat. Then he was gone, and I missed the chance to say goodbye to the man that was the closest thing I had to a mentor.

Fucking stupid, Chachi. It was his pain, not yours. You had no right to personalize it.

“Ready, Chetachi?” Catherine asked in a spent voice.

I nodded, and we climbed into the van. She didn't rap the partition, but our driver took the hint. The van rolled out of the grounds at a steady speed, and we eventually joined the highway, leaving the base far in the past.

A month ago, I’d sat for the first time in this same van, nervous energy eating at my gut. Now . . .

I couldn't quite describe what I felt. Anger, for one. Guilt. Disappointment . . . a chimera of emotions fabricated from all three.

And mounted atop the chimera was a rider of shame. Because Activity aside, I deserved this punishment. I'd sought it with my hands. The CAH had offered me a new life on a platter of gold, and I’d come close to tossing it in a dumpster of bad choices.

What lies would I need to feed my mom? The Council wouldn't tell her I'd been suspended, would they? I could almost see the look on her face as she struggled with the realization that the son she'd had such high hopes for was ultimately a letdown.

Just like his fath—

“You're a great Hero, Chetachi,” Catherine said, voice like a razor. “Don't you dare tell yourself otherwise.”

I blinked and pressed my head to the window. “Great Heroes don't get suspended. Great Heroes catch the bad guy and rescue the captives. Great Heroes”—I stuttered—“don't attempt to put their teammates in body bags.”

“Great Heroes make mistakes and learn from them. And you were blameless in that incident. Don’t let it weigh you down.”

“Mistakes,” I said, voice hoarse. “A mistake is when you shake the sugar into your meal instead than the salt. It doesn't apply to pressing a blade into someone's neck. I should have handled that situation much better.”

“Then why aren't you in cuffs yet?”

I looked down at my hands. “That's what I should be asking.”

“Can it,” Catherine snarled. “Can the pity party, Chetachi. I’m in no mood to listen.”

I recoiled at the venom in her words. Catherine never spoke that way. Not to public hearing anyway. I'd been so absorbed with myself, I'd forgotten she suffered just as worse.

I raised my head off the window and sat up straighter. “Sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded on you. Not when you are dealing with stuff of your own.”

She didn't reply.

“Are you . . . are you alright?”

Catherine kept her eyes on her window. “I am fine, Chetachi.”

“You can talk to me if you want. I didn't mean to be an ass. You didn’t deserve to sit through all of that.”

“It's alright.” Her thick accent highlighted her frustration. “It's just . . . it's a suspension, not the end of the world. And to be honest, this is Pro-now protecting you. The base is going to be charged with emotions and finger-pointing over the next few weeks. Headquarters feel we need a shake-up, and there’s something of an inquest regarding our activities.”

She sighed. “Rest, recharge, take stock of the situation. Return to us better and more prepared. You've been through so much in such a short timeframe. You need this breather.”

“And what about you? Shouldn't you get a chance to recharge?”

Catherine smiled grimly. “I don't know. I have half a mind to quit.”

The woman sitting next to me had more than half a mind. She sat in a way that betrayed her thoughts: legs uncrossed, arms splayed out to the sides. She wasn’t bothering to maintain appearances anymore, and she wanted people to know it.

I couldn’t say many things to reassure her. So, I settled for a question instead. “Would quitting make you happy?”

Catherine knitted her brows. Her lips parted, then sealed, and she knitted her brows again.

“You don't need to answer.”

“. . . No,” she said, picking her words. “Not to your question. I just don't get what he was trying to achieve. We’ve come a long way from the kids who hawked fruits in traffic. So, why? What had he been promised that changed him—that made him abandon all we had gained? It doesn't make sense.”

I stayed silent, allowing her to vent.

Catherine glared at the city beyond the window, eyes alight with an unfamiliar flame.

“The Four-oh-Four kills people,” she said. “Civilians, police, Supers—anyone who opposes them gets murdered in brutal ways. You can't call yourself a champion of justice and align with that kind of evil. You simply can't.”

“Maybe your brother was blackmailed?” I offered. “Have you spoken with him?”

“I haven't. Pro-now won't let me. But blackmail's no excuse, is it? People died during the Four-oh-Four invasion. Our people. I nearly died too.” She shuddered. “There's no going back from that. Words won't dispel the problems.”

She was right. The friends and family of the dead Combat suits would want justice. And justice wasn't granted by talking about feelings. Other questions needed to be asked too.

Adom had aided the syndicate both times Evans had been in trouble. But only an optimistic fool would write off both cases as the extent of his betrayal. How much information was he privy to regarding our secret identities? How much had he shared?

The more I thought about it, the more I wished the CAH could toss him into a deep-sea container and throw out the key. Facing near-death encounters on my lonesome was fine. Putting my family in danger? Fuck, no. Should anyone threaten their safety, a knife would be the least of their worries.

I clenched my fists, stilling the shudder in my arms. The CAH knew what they were doing. I wouldn’t accept anything less.

“Your mother called earlier,” Catherine said, wiping her eyes. “She told me she’s been trying to reach you?”

“Oh,” I replied.

Catherine glanced at me. “You switched off your phone?”

I shuffled my feet, not quite liking where the discussion was headed. “I didn't know what to tell her.”

“She is worried.”

“I know, but I'd rather explain the situation in person. It's not every day your son gets suspended one month into his new job.”

“We can't hide that bit from her,” Catherine said. “And this is supposed to feel like a punishment.”

“Try telling her that when you have a poor interpersonal rating stamped on your report.”

Catherine's lips quirked upwards. “It could be worse. It could be gross misconduct.”

“Oh joy.”

“We aren’t cutting your benefits. Your sister would still be taken care of. Just work off some steam, okay? I know it would do me a world of good.”

She didn't say anything after that, and I quieted in turn, keeping to my thoughts.

The van pulled slowly to a stop. I grabbed my travel bag and hopped down to the ground.

“See you in three months,” Catherine said.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Thanks for everything, Ms. Catherine.”

“Oh. I never got to say it. But thank you too, Chetachi. For saving me. Those were the most horrific moments of my life.”

“I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

Catherine smiled and leaned back in her seat. “Okay. But let’s hope it doesn’t become a habit.”

The van drove off, taking all I'd achieved in the past month away with it. The red gate seemed alien behind my back. I’d come full circle and returned to the starting level: Chetachi the failure. National exam retaker and pizza service guy. Oh wait, I'd quit that job.

Jimoh poked his head out of his gatehouse. “Who’s there? Chetachi?”

“Yep,” I said, adjusting my bag. “How have you been, man?”

Jimoh stumbled out, chewing stick in hand. His pristine jellabiya ruffled in the wind. “I should be asking you that! How long has it been since I last saw you? One year?”

“Ten,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Jimoh guffawed. He grabbed me by the shoulder. “Good to have you back, my friend. Things have been different with you gone.”

Nothing felt good about being back, but I managed a smile and accepted his handshake.

“What’s up with the new job?” he asked. “How long are you staying for?”

“Dunno. A month. Maybe three?”

“Then we have enough time to catch up.” He stuck the chewing stick in his mouth. “I hope you told Mike you were returning. He’s been gloomy ever since you left.”

I dipped my chin, chuckling uneasily. I hadn't thought of my old friend in weeks. “Nah, I wanted to surprise him.”

Jimoh nodded, focused on his stick. “Great. I should probably let you settle in, eh? Come find me later if you want some hot gist from around the neighborhood. I’ve got plenty for you. Oh, you wouldn’t believe the situation with Gunner—”

“Will do, Jims.” I went ahead with a wave.

The tall, red gate glowered down at me. I walked up to it, battling with hesitant feet. The side entrance swung open with a push.

A dreary front yard greeted me. Pockmarks dotted the fence, remnants of my scuffle with Rabidor. Mom's car sat beneath a cover, featuring a couple of new dents on its bumper. She’d gotten a fresh houseplant too. The serrated leaves of Aloe vera—mom's favorite ornamental—glistened with dew. Moisture from the rain of yesternight speckled the yard.

I fingered the Aloe vera, finding strength in its robust, succulent leaves. Then steeling my spine, I rapped hard on the door.

Mom emerged on the fourth knock. She appeared in an oversized robe, clenching a broom in one hand. Grey hair peeked out of her sideburns and her short locs fell over her face. She blinked at me. The broom tumbled from her grasp.

“Oh, Chachi,” mom said, gathering me into a hug.

I returned the gesture with as much ferocity as I could muster, bowing beneath my travel bag's weight.

We stayed that way in silence.

Mom pulled away first. She grabbed my arms, rubbed them, and peered into my face.

I bit my lip, steadying myself against the stream of questions that would follow.

Mom smiled instead. “Had anything to eat?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Cereal.”

“That's no food,” she said, tsk-tsking at the notion. “How does Jollof sound?”

“With fried plantains?”

“You ask too much. But it won't be rice without plantains now, would it? Come on, let's go in.”

I followed after her. Nenye stood in the passage adjacent to the kitchen, staring off into space.

“Hey, you,” I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulder.

She squirmed some, and I loosened my grip, then planted a kiss on her temple. She relaxed after that. Tiny fingers reached for my sleeve.

Had she gotten even skinnier?

“Chachi,” she murmured, as mom strode into the kitchen. “Back.”

“Yeah,” I said, resting my chin on her crown.

“Tired. So . . . tired.”

“That’s okay. I'm here now. I'll pick up the slack.”

Nenye closed her eyes. She didn't let go.

I let her lean on me and readjusted to the familiar sights and sounds of home. I'd stared down everything from a walking transformer to giant rats to murderous supervillains, but the one thing I didn’t want to face was mom's disappointment.

In retrospect, I had acted kind of silly. Mom was intimately familiar with disappointment, yet it never soured her attitude at home.

Sure, I would have preferred being back at the base, doing all I could to secure a better future for them. However, standing there in the passageway, surrounded by the two people I loved the most, I realized:

It was good to be home.