1.3

More humans appeared.

Their diverse armor glinted among the structures. Some stood knee deep in retreating water, while others crowded on and around the rooftops. A swarm of some forty defenders, more than the Giant had seen in one place. Their cheering dimmed compared to the pressing fatigue across his own body.

The Man in Blue shouted for 'Post-Leviathan procedures' to begin, and all leaped into action. Defenders flew in and appeared in flashes of light, taking away the wounded. The humans seemed to defer naturally to this man, who hovered with his group of three before separating. It made sense. Those three had damaged Leviathan most and displayed the most tactical value. But what of the Blue-Armored Commander?

The Giant hung back, observing. He could be of no help if he didn't find metals, and soon. The structures around him were all intact, he expected the humans would take offense if he consumed them. He'd ask later. Now, he imagined it was time for the defenders to question him.

One question lingered: What in the globular cluster had happened to Earth during his sleep?! Hogarth had made it explicit during their time together that superheroes were strictly fiction. He'd seen Superman, Atomo, a dozen other stories. Their similarities with the defenders were more than superficial. Could humanity have advanced so far in that time?

The Three departed, leaving him with the crowd. Nobody had spoken to him, but several aimed small devices. Filming? He gave a small wave in case they were. One defender in particular stood out: A machine with red paneling, it towered above everyone else, its face a black, cuboid structure. A massive engine stood on top. Was this a vehicle or elaborate armor? Could it be that humans had created… ones like him? So soon? The possibility deeply excited him.

The machine's head cocked as if mimicking human curiosity when a group of four emerged from behind it. The Commander skidded in the sludge, drifting to a stop. He dismounted the vehicle -motorcycle- and a woman seated behind him followed. The woman wore a bulky scarf concealing half of her face and a military uniform. On her flanks, a man held his energy shield, clad in shining bronze plate, and another wore full red armor and visor. The Commander planted his halberd and spoke.

"Who-What are you? Nothing on our database matches your description. Which tinker made you? And for what purpose?" He spoke loudly-far louder than he had to.

The Giant looked down. "I am Superman, but the ones who made me have no names. My purpose is to protect."

"What? If you're not a suit or a machine, then what are you? Case 53? Changer? Projection?" The man gestured slightly with his halberd.

"Who are you?" The Giant rumbled. He didn't know what Tinker, Case 53 or any of the words meant, but they must have related to these supers. Categories?

"Armsmaster of the Protectorate East-North-East," the man said. When he didn't continue, the scarfed woman called, "Miss Militia, Assault, and Dauntless."

"Nice to meet you," The Giant said, extending an open hand to Armsmaster. After a long moment, he clasped a metallic finger and shook. The Giant did this for all four heroes.

"All participants of an Endbringer fight must arrive on time. You caused quite a commotion at the triage when you landed. A few meters off and there would have been casualties!" Armsmaster called suddenly. Dauntless and Miss Militia appeared ready to speak but didn't.

"Sorry, needed to know… What happened," The Giant rumbled in apology.

"What, you didn't know Leviathan was attacking? Then where were you headed?"

"Hogarth."

Armsmaster sighed. "I've never heard of that place. Where did you come from?"

"Langjokull, Iceland," the Giant replied evenly. Armsmaster glanced at Miss Militia. She shrugged.

The questioning lulled for a moment, and the Giant knew he had to deflect more probing questions. These people seemed heroes, but he had woken in an unfamiliar world. A world where massive robots like him weren't necessarily out of place. But they could not know he'd been around before the strange changes, that he was out of context. They'd treat him… like Mansley. Like the military did.

"Where can I find… refuse metal?" The Giant asked. They'd let him consume in peace, then he'd fly to find Hogarth. Rockwell was only a few minutes from here. Saving the city was tiring work, but it was all worth it if he could see Hogarth again after so long. As far as he appreciated, Rockwell had been his first real home after eons of drifting from planet to planet, stripping them bare.

"For what purpose? I'm afraid I cannot relinquish any PRT supplies for repair." Armsmaster crossed his arms.

Miss Militia finally spoke up. "There's a place called the Boat Graveyard northeast of here. It's easy to spot, a stretch of beach with abandoned ship hulls scattered all over. Nobody would bat an eye anyway, and you've more than earned it."

The Giant nodded in gratitude, turning to go as Armsmaster protested. "Don't leave! You're required to stay for full questioning."

A fraction of a second later, the Giant was airborne. Armsmaster still shouted after him, reminding him more than a little of General Rogard. He spotted the Boat Graveyard and zoomed towards it with the last slivers of power within. The area here was still flooded. Many pieces of metal floated among the condemned hulls. He landed, jostling the ships and grabbing a meter long piece out of the water. He crunched down and ingested the pieces whole. Almost immediately, power surged through him again.

He needed more. A small fishing boat lay beside him and he ripped the cupola from the deck. The Giant feasted indiscriminately, the refined metals much more filling than the raw ore he'd consumed that morning. After tearing a chunk from a submerged hull, he felt full once again.

It was time to seek out Hogarth.

The Giant discarded a twisted length of metal and leaped up. His fusion thrusters flared with newfound power, propelling him above Brockton Bay. The shipyard shrank beneath as he waved to the defenders, breaking the cloud layer-and the sound barrier. He rolled right, headed north to Rockwell.

He left the surrounding countryside, cruising along the coast. 3.2 minutes until arrival. Alone once again, he pondered. What had happened to Earth didn't seem like a completely recent development. The defenders coordinated and fought with skill. That curious robotic suit and the various armors supported the idea of technological advance, yet the buildings and vehicles were like what he'd known. Each of the defenders' abilities were unique-Wouldn't cleaner roles be more practical-and didn't need any visible pieces of technology. A blast of light from an open palm, a shield from nothing. And the girl he'd saved had been an adolescent. He knew that adolescents didn't usually fight, so why now?

That only made him think more of Hogarth. He knew that humans aged. He didn't know how much exactly they could age before they decayed and… died, like that deer in the forest, shot by a hunter. He'd seen many of his own die in the reclaiming of Planet 3243, entombed as an orbital strike tore into the crust. He could only hope that Hogarth still lived-but he had a good feeling.

The Giant climbed higher as he neared Rockwell and the lighthouse cliff, flying further to the dense forest behind the town. He would attempt what little stealth he could. At five kilometers above the forest, he fell. He fell and scanned the trees for any sign of human life, and there was none. Excitement filled him even as he flared his thrusters for a third of a second, touching the tips of trees in the grove behind the substation. He fell 10.34 meters and landed, crouched, with a boom.

Just ahead, well 3.24 kilometers ahead, Hogarth's old house lay. It had occurred to him that Hogarth might not live there anymore, but it was the first place to look. He started to crawl, surprised at his own quietness. Deer sprinted away and birds flew, but he was sure nobody had seen him yet.

To be sure, he detached both hands and sent them crawling to either side. He'd hear if anybody approached. He crawled still, and the antenna on his head sprouted again. Not one but twelve targets lit up at the coordinates. Hogarth didn't have twelve TVs! He began broadcasting regardless.

"Are you in any way… affiliated with… Superman? Superman? Su-"

Piggot's call echoed in Hogarth's head endlessly. Dennis, wounded. Gerry, he'd prefer not to think about Gerry at the moment, or any of those dead dockworkers-What of Danny? Yet one thought rang true-the thought of the Iron Giant.

Hogarth sprang up and rushed to the door, grabbing his jacket from the hook. He slipped into hiking shoes and pocketed his cell phone. A loud burst of static sounded from the TV (what the hell?) and he rushed back into the room to see a noisy image of… trees? Dense, tall conifers and fallen logs, and in the distance there lay a clearing. Hogarth wheeled around, making for the back door. He hefted a sheet of steel from his shop, running from the house, leaving the door wide open.

The last patches of snow had melted a week ago, turning into slush. Hogarth's boots churned the stuff as he ran into the woods behind his house. Even at sixty-three, Hogarth still jogged. So he ran and clambered over a few boulders in the rough path as the snow and darkness grew denser. He was retracing his steps fifty-four years ago, growing winded when the substation appeared in the clearing.

It was abandoned now. They never did replace the eaten girders, where twisted lengths of metal jutted from the concrete. Three stories of transformers stood arrayed, their coils now battered and frayed. This had been a marvel in its time, now left derelict.

And it had been where Hogarth first met the Giant. A crash in the night had drawn him here, and in the end he'd almost been crushed as the Giant ripped the station apart, only to convulse between fallen cables. Hogarth had saved him, shutting off power to the station-but not before the Giant had drained most of it.

Hogarth now knew how silly he'd been.

The Giant's right hand detected a signature. Someone was approaching the substation, unarmed and sprinting. He listened to the footfalls. The Giant himself crawled to the edge of a clearing, not of the substation, but where Hogarth had waited for him on the second day. He could barely contain himself at the thought of meeting Hogarth for the second time…

Hogarth called out "Hello? Who's there?" a clanging, like rocks on metal sounded. The Giant rumbled in joy. His left hand crept to the edge of the clearing-and there he was. Hogarth, old friend. Mentor, guide, savior. He thought back to that autumn day ("My own giant robot! I'm the luckiest kid in America!") and chuckled, a grating rumble. As if he couldn't hear that.

Hogarth had aged. His auburn hair had faded, a slight slouch pressing on his spine. The jeans and jacket he wore were worn and weathered, much like his face. Yet the eyes, twin pools of blue youth radiated hope from a world-weary mask. And he kept banging on that piece of metal. So the Giant stood, head poking over the treeline, and came forth.

"Come on out! Delicious-uh-savory metal! Come on, big metal guy!"

Hogarth hefted the steel sheet with his prosthetic, never getting tired. He punctuated his words with clangs. He had to be here. He just had to-

A sound like branches breaking, and Hogarth whirled. Dark, shadowed by firs, the Giant stood. He parted the trees like one might open a door.

And stepped forward into the clearing.

Hogarth dropped the sheet of metal, his jaw going slack. His head craned up, up and up before his wide eyes met the Giant's warm ones.

Hogarth blinked, once, twice. Silent screams coursed in his blood: he could contain himself no more. He tore through the clearing, leaping a log, sliding through mud (he came back-he came back!). Hogarth launched himself at the Giant's leg, wrapping himself around it best he could.

He wasn't very shocked to find his vision blurry when he opened his eyes: tears ran down his cheeks. A click sounded above, and Hogarth felt a metallic finger on his hair.

The Giant stared down fondly. "I return, old friend," he rumbled.

Hogarth hopped down, silent for a moment.

"You came from the sky, right?" he said finally.

The Giant laughed, a reverberating sound that had his shoulders shaking.

"Rock? Tree!?" he replied.

Now Hogarth chuckled, jittering with adrenaline. "Now, we're going to have to find a place for you to stay, huh? Away from prying Protectorate eyes?"-A thought nagged at the corner of his mind. "You saved tens of thousands..."

"Giant!" he said sternly as he could "You've got a lot of explaining to do!"