Times had changed since my golden days, that was for sure. I saw this most of all in the eyes of my son. I didn't blame him for his sorrow, who could? I wondered if he hated for me what I did. There was nothing I loved more than putting on the suit of the seer, the rush of it all, the power. I doomed my family every night I wore it, but they still loved me the same. Jake's childhood was filled with nothing but hearing how much of a hero his old man was. Times had changed since I engaged in constant battle with the Black Octopus, the Mantis, the whole lot of costumed goons with silly names. It was never personal, though. They broke into banks using the latest gimmicky plot. I stopped them. Rinse and repeat. Such foes ended up innocent when it came to the death of my wife. Dying at the hands of some nobody with a knife. No costume. No gimmick. No motive. I wasn't there to help her when my son saw her bleed out onto the floor. My powers couldn't save the one I loved. My son as a child had decided he wanted to be just like me. Actually, he wanted to be a grocer at first. As he grew, I watched him train himself. He read the law books to a T, ate his vegetables, helped his fellow man.

Now, I struggled to find a reply to the anger in my son's eyes. A lust for revenge on those who killed his mother. "I'm not letting the law get in my way, Dad. Not anymore." "This is not how I taught you, Jake!" "Sorry, Mr. Boyscout. This is something I have to do." I looked at the suit my son wore. It bared none of the colors that his childhood doodled contained. It looked more military than spandex. Enough guns for an army too. "Your mom's killer was caught." "I want all men like that thug to suffer." Things had changed since the golden days. I watched, in silence, as my son headed out into the warzone.