Depression

You teleport home to the mansion after there is nothing more you can do, letting time resume so that the firefighters and police officers can go about attending to the wounded. After that, you collapse in bed, too tired and lazy to take off your costume.

Over the next few days, you confine yourself to the mansion, ignoring all calls from the Tribune, Elena, and your friends and family. You don't even have to leave to food or under necessities as Olivia takes care of that for you, and you spend most of your days in your room with the curtains drawn and the television turned on to the news. Since the bombing, there's been wall to wall coverage of the attack and while the general feeling is that most people on scene were grateful toward The Ringer for saving them, many questioned why you hadn't prevented the incident completely. Initially, you want to scream at the television that you admit your culpability, that you had let everyone down because you had let your penis dictate your actions, but as time goes on and you obsess over details in the news, you start to wonder if there was anything different you could have done to thwart the bombing.

In a blink of an eye, about a dozen days have gone by and while you're no longer stricken with guilt, you're still lacking the motivation to leave the house and resume your recently self-appointed role as protector of the city. Your absence has not gone unnoticed, as people on social media are posting pictures and videos of crimes and incidents in the city, asking where The Ringer is and why you had disappeared after such a short stint and given people false hope that they had found a hero in you. In the meantime, the police are still investigating the bombing and they do not appear to be making any progress, at least publicly. In fact, they even say they're looking for you for questioning.

Then 1 day, you roll out of bed and realize that you're done moping around. It's time for you to get back out there, but not like before.