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Meet the Parents


Heridfel

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"If he really was such a nobody, then whomever killed him wouldn't have done it so strangely. Plenty of people die in Freedom City, even with all the superheroes around. Most of them don't go like that," Mrs. Hanks says. She wheels herself into the kitchen and looks back to the Emissary.

"Can you help me with the sugar? It's in the cupboard over there," she says, pointing to a cupboard which she could conceivably reach from her wheelchair, but not easily. She heads to a tin on the table and gently opens it up to reveal tea inside.

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"He was never very good with people. His father and I thought he was gay for a long while, but he just didn't like people. The ones who were dumber than he was, he mocked. The ones who were as smart or smarter than he was, he was jealous of. There weren't many of them, but he thought that there were. He was always pushing himself harder to make up for it," she says, tearing up a little.

"It still hurts to talk about this, but you're a better listener than those policemen were."

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"He was never very good with people. His father and I thought he was gay for a long while, but he just didn't like people. The ones who were dumber than he was, he mocked. The ones who were as smart or smarter than he was, he was jealous of. There weren't many of them, but he thought that there were. He was always pushing himself harder to make up for it," she says, tearing up a little.

"It still hurts to talk about this, but you're a better listener than those policemen were."

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"No, go ahead. I'm not going to be living here much longer. I'm going to a home soon. It's the one with that Beekeeper fellow, and it's supposed to be a nice one. I just feel worn out now. A mother isn't supposed to outlive her children," she says. Her hands shake a little as she puts the tea leaves in the pot. She has turned on the stove, starting the range as she rolls over to the sink to fill it with water.

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"No, go ahead. I'm not going to be living here much longer. I'm going to a home soon. It's the one with that Beekeeper fellow, and it's supposed to be a nice one. I just feel worn out now. A mother isn't supposed to outlive her children," she says. Her hands shake a little as she puts the tea leaves in the pot. She has turned on the stove, starting the range as she rolls over to the sink to fill it with water.

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"I.. well... was there anyone besides yourself that he ever had any strong ties to? A single friend? A peer he managed to have some respect for? If not, in the times when you yet spoke to him, was there someone he particularly mocked? Or was particularly jealous of?"

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"I.. well... was there anyone besides yourself that he ever had any strong ties to? A single friend? A peer he managed to have some respect for? If not, in the times when you yet spoke to him, was there someone he particularly mocked? Or was particularly jealous of?"

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"He said something about improving a process that another man invented - they were rivals, but he seemed to respect what the man had made. There was also some man who worked with robots. I don't remember his name. I didn't speak with my son for more than five minutes in the last five years, and my memory isn't what it used to be," she says. "They both worked for his company, though. Grant Conglomerates might know who they were."

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"Oh," she says. "Well, thank you for that. Lock the door when you go out. I'll get the deadbolt myself."

The Emissary can see that Mrs. Hanks had put two mugs face-down on the table. She reaches over to put the teapot is put on the range and start boiling the water for her tea.

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Mrs. Hanks smiles quietly to herself and looks to the Emissary.

"Then I would be glad for your company. What did you say your name was, again? My memory isn't as sharp as it used to be. You look sort of like that Envoy fellow from the Second World War," she says. She doesn't seem to be focusing quite as hard as she did while she was speaking about her dead son, and it's reflected in the other parts of her conversation. Once the tea is ready, she'll pour two cups (or allow the Emissary to pour on her behalf), and talk or just listen. She's obviously grateful for the company, and will see the Emissary out when the conversation has run its course.

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"Well, he is my father, I like to hope there is some resemblance, despite the circumstances of my origin.."

He goes on then to talk about with her whatever she prefers really, offering up anecdotes of his own in response to questions she might ask, talking about his relationship with the Envoy, refreshing their cups of tea now and then until the time comes for him to take his leave.

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