Redhawk Caldera Whatever's left of you

"Wha--"

He squinted and cast an uncertain glance toward Wagtail. He couldn't quite tell, but he knew his daughter well enough to know that she would be even more confused than he was. He had lost all control over the conversation (not that he ever had it to begin with), and it was hard to say where it was going now.

Did she really not know him? It had been so long --  but he was a Redhawk, and he would always be a Redhawk. His name had been all that was left after the Sirens of Themiscyra took everything else. In his heart, Towhee was not the arbiter of this, but in reality, he had to acknowledge that she was. She held the land, and the remnants of the Redhawk family followed her -- he had abandoned his imagined birthright on a rainy day in December, long, long ago.

"Who's Killer?" piped Wagtail, breaking the silence.

He knew enough killers for one lifetime. He didn't endeavor to know anymore.

"No. Whatever it is you want, I -- I don't have it," he answered. "I just wanted to come home."