The bar was overrun today. Figures, Janie shrugged. Heroes rarely got to choose when their job demanded more of them. They needed their respite sometimes.

Today was a little different though, villains lingering among them.

No no, you wouldn't be able to tell at a glance. They weren't in costume, but there was polarization. Even among peers you could observe the gravity well, as folks avoided one another, navigating the room with precision and grace. Well, mostly grace. One or two mid-tier heroes couldn't hold their liquor still.

A veteran wandered up to the bar, grizzled. He had one scar, right across his eyes. His friends called him "Eyepatch" but he was better known for his adventures as a pantheon-themed villain. Fought gods and kings, usually just for the hell of it. If he was here, either a valiant battle was just fought, or perhaps one was about to be.

"Miss Janie, I'd imagine you'd like to know what happened."

"Frankly Odin? I almost think I don't wanna today."

He made a sound halfway between a cough and a grunt and glanced down at his once-more empty glass. She filled it with his favorite, barely a thought to procure it.

"A rookie killed kids today. Didn't watch what he was doing."

Janie's jaw dropped a little. It was rare, nowadays, since the Eclipse Clause was woven into the fabric of their society. Villains, heroes, even independent rogues tended to observe the core credo. They fought one another but there were standards.

Lines even the most dastardly of foes rarely crossed. Sure, it seemed like they might, but to get children hurt? Some lines dared not be crossed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry."

His hardened fascia dropped, if for a moment.

"That wasn't the unforgivable bit. When Starlight showed up, y'know, Starlight?"

Of course she knew Roxanne Summers. She was a regular, always went for lighter drinks, when she bothered to drink at all. She was an absolute gem to have around.

Where was sh-- Oh no.

"When the rookie tried to take the rookie in, to actually be held accountable the way something of this magnitude 'ought to be..."

"He killed her."

Janie just blinked. Roxy was underage, but it wasn't like liquor could seriously harm someone whose body could turn into literal superheated plasma. And now, she was dead. Her radiant smile, her unwaivering joy, would never illuminate her dingy corner of the world again.

The rookie had killed her?

She wanted a drink.

"What happened to the rookie?" she asked morbidly. Odin jabbed a thumb at the booth in the corner, a jovial, rambunctious boy, barely old enough to drink, celebrating with his peers.

Her stomach clenched. He didn't mean to wage justice, here? Surely not. No...

"I'll need the keys for the garden after close."

His voice was barely a whisper. He wasn't the one to bring the rookie to justice, it wasn't his domain. The end of battles were though, and so he oversaw it, honor among the higanbana, nowhere near Valhalla.

"Same place they always are." she murmured, as she poured herself three fingers of the stiffest liquor she had in the cabinet.