Scott spent quite some time with his family. He spoke of Sonja, of Ashton, even of his concerns for Shara. His voice carried with it a lightness, a hint of bright joy. In many ways, this was the first time he had come to this place to speak of happy things.

It was easy to slip back into his old mannerisms, though there was much more cheer in his voice when he spoke. Part of him did wonder if it were somehow insulting to the memories of his sister and father to actually allow himself to be happy. How could he allow himself to know even this hint of joy, when they lay dead at his feet? Covered in dirt and forgotten by nearly everyone, they existed only inside of him now.

Yet, despite those misgivings he continued to speak to them of happier things. If nothing else, hearing him always sad and filled with complaints could not possibly have done them any good. Likely, it could do them no harm either, but such was the state of things.

“What’s that?” he asked Liz. Scott grinned at the tombstone then rubbed the top of it as though it were his little sister’s head. “Yeah. I bet they would.”

He laughed warmly then nodded after he imagined her response. “Of course! I’m sure they’d love you. Why wouldn’t they?”

“What’s that dad?” Scott looked to his father’s gravestone. His good humor died back slightly and he become somewhat sober. “Yeah, I did become a cop for a while… Not sure you could call what I did ‘by the book’ but… I don’t know how else to be.”

His face lost a bit a color and he threw his hands up. “No! It’s not your fault. You would have taught me stuff like that if you could.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t say that… You’re a great dad.”

His eyes drew closed and he released a tired breathe. “The best.”

“I miss you, dad,” he admitted, a trickle of tears beginning to flow down from the corners of his eyes. He started to say something else, but a familiar voice reached out to him and a skitter of dread slipped along his spine.

“Well, lookit here… If it isn’t ol’ dickless himself,” said the crusty voice of a man Scott had avoided meeting. “Standin’ there missin’ his daddy.”

Scott eyes blazed red and his nostrils flared. Slowly, he turned to the origin of that hated voice. Standing there, face red from a lifetime of boozing it up and worse, was Harry. The man at the heart of everything that had happened to his family.

There were no words, only a seething anger that grew by the second. Voices entered his mind for the first time in a long while, not the fake guilt of someone else pulling his strings, but his own true conscience. His thoughts warred inside of him, raged.

He specifically avoided meeting the man because he did not want to kill him. Coming this close to the bastard would make it impossible not to do it. No. He wanted nothing more than for this steaming pile of shit to be outed for what he did, and true justice to be served. His family could not know peace until that happened.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?” asked Harry with a sneer. “Don’t have nothing to say to your daddy?”

“Every day that you continue to draw breath is an insult to my father,” said Scott coldly.

Harry snickered at him, then popped open a can of beer. Oddly, the name on the side literally said beer. There was no brand name. Were Scott’s thoughts more coherent he would have made a bigger note of it, but he couldn’t. There was too much going on before him. There were too many things to say, to feel, for him to care about off-brand alcohol.

“Hell. I’ll drink to that,” guffawed harry loudly. He took a mighty swig beer. In fact, he chugged it down, then crushed the can in his hand.

Harry tossed the can aside, though obviously aimed it toward the tombstone of Scott’s father. The red-faced man’s sneer intensified. “I love drinking to the thought of that useless dead fuck.”

The flesh atop Scott’s nose crinkled slightly as his better angels fought with his inner demons. He had to remain calm. Killing this man would feel good, but it would accomplish nothing else.

Harry popped open another cold one then saluted Scott with it. “It gets me almost as hot and bothered as fucking your mother in the ass.”

Scott’s claw-like fingernails elongated slightly and began to sharpen. Pain wracked his body in tiny little waves as he involuntarily shifted outside of his normal human mode to this minor degree. Without lifeforce, anything to do with his shifting powers beyond the three basic forms led to pain and internal injuries.

Harry chugged his beer then glanced over to Liz’s tombstone. A smug smile spread across his cracked lips. Yellowed teeth from a lifetime of tobacco and meth abuse showed fiercely for a moment. “Course… She’s got nothing on that little sis—”

A hellish screech erupted from Scott’s throat. Unable to suppress himself any longer, he could not hold back is rage. A mask of indescribable hatred warped his formerly cold visage into a frightening thing. His aura washed over Harry like a tidal wave.

Harry screamed inarticulately and fell on his ass. Crying desperate tears of mortal terror, he flung his arms into the air and began to shout. He writhed on the ground like a dying serpent.

Scott poured on the aura, increased it to his full intensity and to hell with any internal injuries that he might suffer. Harry wallowed around on the ground for a moment while shrieking and flailing his limbs. However, the moment soon passed.

In a bizarre and unsettling display, Harry rolled onto his back and started to wave his arms and legs like he wanted to make a snow angel. “No! Not like this! Not the stupid gimmick!”

Harry’s outcry shocked Scott out of his furious demeanor. Confusion arose on his face as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Harry laughed darkly and rose from the ground, completely unphased by the terrible aura that Scott produced in that moment. “Shit, boy. You really are a useless little spitfuck. I’m glad that stupid redheaded slut fucked everything up. Don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Wha—?” asked Scott, only to have his words cut off mid-sentence by a sudden wave of energy. The wave crashed over him, blew him backwards. He toppled several tombstones then slammed heavily against the side wall of the cemetery.

Scott slid down, brick and mortar flaking all around him, as the wave came to an end. Harry cracked open another beer. His yellowed teeth gleamed sickeningly at him in the light. “You should know, boy. I fucked that whore mom of yours. I fucked that slutty little sister of yours… but to be honest, the one signed on to fuck was you.”

He did not know what had just happened, but he had become more of a dragon of action in recent weeks. Scott’s hand flashed down and grasped a large chunk of brick. He hurled it at the smiling bastard with all the strength that he could must.

While Scott lacked a throwing skill, his agility and strength were quite good. He nailed Harry right between the eyes… for all the good it did. A little blue message window popped up above the smiling bastard.

[[Immortal Object ]]

Harry’s grin increased three sizes, and a wicked light game to his eyes. “It’s time that redheaded ninja slut learned not to fuck with the Corpse Rats, you pouty-lipped little bitch.”

Scott glared hatefully at the bastard. It was obvious, now. Harry was one of those so-called gods. Beyond that, he was not actually certain of what the man was talking about. Some of it sounded familiar, but his mind was not exactly the most coherent thing around.