Robbie Rivers, despite golden strength and telekinetic powers and shining laughter, had died preventing a stolen nuclear weapon from taking out half the planet. John, locked in hand-to-hand battle with the mastermind responsible for the launch, had heard him die.
Ryan couldn’t even imagine that moment. Hearing that. Living with that. He hoped he’d never have to. And he knew, the way they all knew, the risks of what they did.
That’d been over a decade ago. John might’ve quit fighting, then. Might’ve succumbed to vigilante vengeance and gone on a murderous rampage. He hadn’t, because he was John. He’d simply thrown himself back into work, tense and devastated and rigidly determined to follow all the rules and take all the villains into custody and save as many lives as he could.