The air in Astoria always tasted of salt and fried dough, but today, for Reid Sterling, it tasted like ash.
It had been three weeks since the doors of the Sterling Building had hissed shut behind him, revoking his biometrics, his legacy, and the only woman he had ever truly seen. He wasn't the "Ice King" anymore. He was a ghost haunting the streets he had once manipulated from a satellite feed.
Reid sat on a rusted bench in the park overlooking the East River, staring at the Manhattan skyline. Specifically, he was staring at the Shard. From here, he could see the construction cranes dismantling the top floors the "Blue Room" being turned into a public garden.
He looked down at his hands. They were calloused. Over the last twenty-one days, he hadn't touched a single line of code. He hadn't sat in a boardroom. Instead, he had been working twelve-hour shifts with the crew rebuilding the Silver Star Diner.
