The cop didn’t drive David to the hospital.
At first, David was too wound up in his own problems to even notice. And his mind felt so damn cloudy.
The cop sweated. Felt like his hands were going to slip right off the wheel. Stay in your thoughts, kid. It’ll be the best for both of us.
David had never been so sad in his life. He figured that had to be what was making him act so weird, feel so weird.
Shade. It’d all started with Shade.
Keep your head in the clouds, kid, the cop thought. He prayed to the God he believed in, along with a couple he didn’t.
The way David saw it, Shade could be blamed even for the stuff the demon had done. If Ricky had been there, one of it would’ve happened the way it did.
Ricky was the fighter. He was the one they could count on to get them out of even the worst situations. A team’s balance was so delicate. Take just one person out of the equation, and disaster can follow.
Disaster. What other word could be used to describe that massacre that’d taken David’s team?
The thought felt complete. Moreover, it made David feel complete. The cloud dissipated, just a little.
Finally, he had purpose. He knew what he had to do.
Shade had to die, and he was just the guy to make it happen.
He figured he’d go back to the hospital and rest up. Then, when the time was right, he’d strike.
But he wasn’t going to the hospital. With the newfound clarity came a realization: he was in trouble.
They must’ve thought he was unstable. They were going to hold him. Under the Baker Act? The Metahuman Safety Act?
It didn’t matter. He only knew one thing: he was going to have to fight the cops. For justice.