If I was gonna write a hero I'd make sure he looked like me, but with a jaw/chin of something stronger than plaster cast.  I'd ...

Yeah. Forget that. 

All he got is his magnifier and a jack knife. All she's holding is barely holding on. Her skin shines like his eyes and they know it's Over. The last act so and then some. 

Fortunes told his mom she'd lose him.  They didn't specify that she'd do it on purpose. "For his own good." and that where she went... there really isn't anywhere. Just no more here. 

So when he found himself in a sudden move to Hand's apartments, with no idea other than a remote memory of being lifted over a strange face to recall Hand, it seemed like life had turned to still sad but now more informative state of being.  For a 3 year old brain, that was better even than the scrawny, too quick to empty, tit that made his existence possible. "Hand fed him well. That mattered more than even an advanced 9 year old brain could put its finger on. "  Sometimes - usually you just had to feel it through and know you were building instincts that would feed your life to come. 

Anyhow he wasn't a kid any more. 9 years old meant wet dreams still loomed, but also that bones didn't break like they used to. His had all healed and his body's ability to dish out the violence he had already developed a mean knack of taking was no small cause of pride.  Something Seth didn't think he'd earned much of but wasn't gonna kick himself too hard for lacking. 

Listen I don't wanna go too far into this but he's just about ready to lose his V to Ms MacGillicuty AND get a good start on his Liberal studies with her sincere and broadminded tutelage.  

Wake Forest in his future. 

done part one