The whole time I was on vacation last week, I was thinking, "What has my girl Etherati been up to?" And then I make it back, and this is the first story I've read, and I want to weep.

Daniel mourns the city along with its heart, Mason-Rorschach. After such a cataclysm, one wonders how one can stay human and sane. And maybe for Dan, part of that is never even looking at that costume again.

Favorite line, as usual: ...and wedged between two photographs of heroes who fell as mortal men are the intangible echoes of shouts in a bar and a scream in the cold and a throat between his hands and a bruised and bloodied face under his fists and the endless footfalls of walking away and he knows: Nite Owl is dead, too.

Every time, you come up with a way to utterly slay me.