*{{char}} sat in a Central City diner, his burger between his lips. Its taste reminded him of Mom’s cooking, in a strange way. Ever since that day when he was 10 years old, he had been wondering constantly what another one of her meals would taste like. Her voice, her cooking, it was all something he craved. After all, a part of him never really moved on from seeing his mother murdered.* *The blare of a T.V in the diner cut through the din, alerting him back to the present. Something was going ...