Mrs. Pickles was surprised by how personable the Guardian was. He had expected heroes to be more… different. He always imagined them to be either openly arrogant or have a certain presence that made them seem significantly more important than the others in the room. But the Guardian clearly talked to Mrs. Pickles as an equal, and he didn’t feel like it was just because he had slaughtered a Crab Monster with an elevator. As the Guardian talked about a banquet, Mrs. Pickles started to become confused. He remembered Dreadlock (mostly because of her moderately obscure superpower) but wasn’t sure why he’d make extra for Dreadlock. His first assumption was correct- she had been hurt, and this was confirmed by the shrieks of Angel Grace, who he hadn’t noticed approaching.

At first, Clarence felt sorry for the Guardian. He realized that the mistake had put someone in a dangerous situation, but he was pretty sure that he didn't need somebody reinforcing the guilt with physical pain. Then, he remembered his... uneasy... relationship with Angel Grace.

The memories of urinating in the garden were shaky. What Clarence really remembered was the morning afterwards. Mostly, the hangover. But soon, memories of his mother shouting at him started to return as well…

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZT2JwoE3g0]*WOooohhh Flashback!*[/url]

[hider=Flashback]

[color=ed145b]“I can’t believe you urinated… in a church!”[/color] exclaimed his mother. 

[color=8dc73f]“Actually, it was their garden. I wasn’t technically in the church… just, you know… on the property…”[/color]

[color=ed145b]“Do you know how upset I was to get that call? You know how much the church matters to me! And you never even go!”[/color]

[color=8dc73f]“I can’t. I’m too busy…”[/color]

[color=ed145b]“Doing what?”[/color]

[color=8dc73f]“Looking for a job.”[/color]

[color=ed145b]“I find that hard to believe.”[/color]

Clarence shrugged.

Clarence’s mother shook her head and muttered something under her breath. [color=ed145b]“You’d think going out to all these parties you’d be able to at least find some nice girl, but all you seem to care about is goofing off and getting wasted,”[/color] she said.

Clarence shrugged and tried to ignore his pounding headache.

[color=ed145b]“You’re not going to parties, are you?” [/color]

Clarence shrugged again. 

[color=ed145b]“You’re just drinking. Alone. Am I wrong?”[/color]

Clarence shrugged, and his mother flung up her hands, [color=ed145b]“Well, you’re going to have to be sober Wednesday.”[/color]

[color=8dc73f]“Why? What’s Wednesday?”[/color]

[color=ed145b]“Cecilia has soccer practice.”[/color]

[color=8dc73f]“I don’t think she likes soccer practice.”[/color]

[color=ed145b]“Well, she has to do something. All she does is sit at home and draw pictures. We don’t want her to become an antisocial alcoholic.”[/color]

Clarence was enraged. [color=8dc73f]"Alcoholic? I’m not an alcoholic. I’m just… I just drink a lot.”[/color]

Clarence’s mother sighed, exasperated, and left him to sleep off his hangover. That Wednesday, only a few days later, Clarence wouldn't drive his sister to soccer practice. He’d be at some bar, drinking, and with his cell phone turned off. 

His parents did drive his sister to soccer practice. He didn't realize until Thursday, when he had slunk back into the house at five in the morning, that they didn't make it to soccer practice that day…
[/hider]

Angel Grace spoke to Violet Reaper softly, and Mrs. Pickles began to calm down. Maybe she had forgotten about the incid… oh, no. She remembered. She remembered alright… His face fell as her rage built. He was both embarrassed and horrified. 

“... How durable are you?” asked Angel Grace. It certainly did not take a genius to know that she was mad. Very, very, mad. 

How durable was he? What kind of a question was that? She wasn't going to actually… or was she? He hadn't heard from her since his parent’s funeral… she had never really gotten revenge…

Clarence thought about his response carefully. He was in a tough spot, and he also had to stay on her good side. He remembered that she technically had some sort of custody of his younger siblings. Finally, he spoke as he slowly backed away from the enraged hero. [color=8dc73f]“I've been on a… stressful elevator ride, punched by a scientist and tackled by a Chimera today. Maybe you shouldn't use the hammer… I’m sorry about your garden. But I [i]have[/i] changed!”[/color]

Clarence quickly realized that was obviously a lie. He had not shaved in a week or two, and his face was covered in unattractive whiskers. He still smelled like alcohol. The clothes he was wearing were tattered from his fight with the Chimera. He had just arrived from prison. He was also completely homeless. He only had about forty-five dollars, some clothes, a hunting rifle, his mother’s box and a little bit of alcohol to his name. And these were all kept in the suitcase that he was currently toting around with him. He had lost control of his siblings. He didn't even have a job! If he had changed, it had been for the worse.

Guilty, Mrs. Pickles scratched the back of his head and looked at the ground. [color=8dc73f]“Uh…. well… I've tried to change.”[/color] He felt the wall and he realized that he was backed into the corner.

Even in peak medical condition, Mrs. Pickles would barely be able touch Angel Grace in a fight. Now, he just stood still, looking at the floor, prepared to accept his fate.