The dimly lit pub hummed with the lively chatter of patrons, their laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the low melody of a jukebox in the corner. Nestled in a worn-out armchair Potage sat as the amber liquid swirled in their glass, its aroma mingling with the scent of old wood and freshly brewed beer looking down at the drink as he thought to himself, how it had been a rough night on patrol alone and tired, how long had he been doing this and has it really made a change for people in the Bleeding Heart, his people.

Their eyes wandered across the room, observing the eclectic mix of patrons that filled the space. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow, casting shadows that seemed to dance along with their memories. Potage had been in this city long enough to remember some of these men and women as children watching as they quickly seemed to pass him in age. Turning their attention to the couple near the window, his eyes softened. They saw in them a reflection of a love that had weathered the storms of time. Wrinkled hands interlaced, whispers exchanged, and affectionate glances spoke of a bond that had grown stronger through the years. It reminded the person of their own cherished love, now a beautiful memory etched in their heart, that was the thing for falling for someone with a different lifespan as their own.

With a wistful sigh, Potage realized that their own chapter had reached a new phase, they found themselves transported to another time lost in their own reminiscences, it was a moonlit night, and the silent city below seemed peaceful for once in a long time as they leaped from one rooftop to another, their patrol, early in their vigilantism, took them across the cityscape. Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught their attention as one misplaced leap sent them clashing with nearby skylight. The glass surface shattered as their body crashed through, sending shards flying in every direction. Time seemed to slow down as the hero's heart pounded in their chest, and a mix of excitement and uncertainty filled their mind then landed with a thud, rolling instinctively to absorb the impact. Rising to their feet, they found themselves on a table in a dimly lit room, surrounded by nicely dressed men and at the head of the table there she was someone who would give this lost soul a new purpose, the Boss lady herself.

As quickly as he found himself there he was back at the pub finishing their drink, the person rose from the seat, their heart brimming with a renewed appreciation for the beauty of human connection no matter how fleeting. They stepped into the night not before returning the bartender’s smile and nod, carrying their helmet under their arm, ready to continue their own narrative, enriched by the memories and reflections gathered within those hallowed walls.