I visit the store front and bought a sandwich from the Deli. Swallowed a bite down with a soft drink.
Full of chemicals. Harmful. Toxic. I almost giggle at the thought.
Quickly finishing my meal I continue to hunt.
It's difficult trying to remember the images from my dream yet I manage.
.
I visit the rig, watch it's force field sparkle in the moonlight. A building with a glowing blue shell.
I visit the boat graveyard. Empty and desecrated. A funeral for the metal bugs of water.
I visit the market. Smells and sounds.
I see the giant screen on 8th. Watch on ad about McDonald's latest burger.
The rows of houses near Acadia.
.
I don't find the tall building from my Dreams so I find the highest building that allowed me on their roof and went with that.
I sat on the ledge, watching the Sun shine down on the streets of the Bay. Light reflected of the glass windows, highlighting the stone and concrete. Colors and sounds saturated the streets while soft cotton candy clouds hovered gently in the baby blue sky. In the streets cars and people traversed through the streets like ants in their tunnels all working to maintain a system no matter how flawed they could be.
.
I remember a quote from George Sand, a French novelist, memoirist, and journalist. "Admiration and familiarity are strangers."
How true that was. I've seen these sights over a dozen times over my life, perhaps more, passing by them during my daily life without giving them second thought but today they seem so fresh, so inspiring. Whereas before I could see only the ugly of Brockton Bay, observing the city with Hornet's eyes gave me a newfound level of admiration for this city.
Which brought me back to my main problem.
I didn't know what my power was. My best guess was that I could 'change' into Hornet during my dreams. A weird kind of Breaker form? Or maybe a Changer form. But there weren't that many Breakers or Changers that I knew of that transformed into such a different, inhuman form. Could I be some sort of hybrid Case-53 where I could change into my inhuman form when I was Dreaming? (Was this how Case 53's were created? Slowly losing themselves to their power until they lost everything about themselves?)That could explain my Dreamwalking but then what happened during my other dreams? The ones not about Hornet. The ones about Hallownest?
And then my Dreams themselves. Were they because of my powers or because of my mental breakdown? They were rare now, my Dreams short, blurry and fleeting too but that was okay now. I didn't need them. For now.
So many questions. So many unknowns.
But the biggest one of them all.
How do I turn into Hornet again?
.
It felt liberating being Hornet. It felt exhilarating. It felt free. It was everything I wanted and then some.
I wanted to be Hornet again. I wanted to talk like her, move like her, fight like...
That was a problem. The only problem.
Hornet wasn't one for mercy, she hadn't been trained for it. But more importantly she hadn't been trained to fight against humans. Humans were weaker than the bugs of Hallownest. The bugs had tougher shells, superior strength and speed while humans... didn't. I don't know how much of my story translated over to my power's version of Hornet (Dream Hornet maybe?) but it seemed enough got through. Her prowess with the Needle, her control over spider silk... my story's Hornet could sing, perform and talk to spiders. Maybe my power's Hornet - Dream Hornet could do that too but even without it she was deadly. That alone was problematic enough but reliving my memories of her it was pretty clear that she was young, much younger than what I'd originally wrote her as.
Dream Hornet was still in her years when she was still growing, learning, eager to escape from the shade of her parents and experience the world her own way. She was proud of her combat ability, believing that she was among the best warriors in Hallownest (she was or would be, but that wasn't the point), she seeked the thrill of battle and arrogant enough to believe she'd come out top every time. She was immature, enough that she'd start picking fights just because she could.
...like picking a fight with Aegis because she wanted to see how the warriors of the surface world.
.
I'd seen the fight with Aegis and it was... bloody. Extremely bloody. If it had been someone other than Aegis, an Alexandria package who could take the insane amounts of punishment that Hornet dished out, then I'd probably be at the end hunt of a witch hunt for killing a Ward.
I still could be.
As little as I knew about the cape world I knew that hurting a Ward was basically taboo. I'd be labeled a villain. Was I a villain? I would be according to the PRT. I'd attacked a ward in an incredibly brutish manner. They'd... they could...
Birdcage.
They'd absolutely Birdcage me.
.
HolyshitwhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdoshitshitshitshitshitshitwhatdoIdowhatdoIdo-
The little ghost is afraid.
I gasp deep as I'm pulled back.
My emotions which had been collapsing in a downwards spiral was now just... gone. No, not gone. Muted. It was hard grasping them. Like a sight behind a curtain of fog.
I could think clearly now.
.
I'd hurt a Ward! Almost killed them! I couldn't control Hornet, or maybe I could. Was she sentient? She acted like she would in my stories. Exploring a new city out of curiosity and looking for a fight at her first chance. Impulsive. Brash. She'd mature later in the story but I didn't know enough about my power to tell if that would happen here too. Hell I didn't know anything about my power.
How do I control it?
No. There's a more important question.
How do I fix what I'd already done?
.
I look down at the city.
I could disappear. Run away where Hornet couldn't hurt anybody.
No body would miss me that much.
Objectively it was a good option, maybe the best. As of right now I had no understanding of my powers except of the fact that I was a danger to others.
.
.
.
Disappear...
I look down at the city. From here so high up it seemed so large but then again so very small.
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"Quite a view is it not?"
I absolutely did not squeak as I whipped around to see the owner of the voice.
A tall thin man stood, wearing a dark blue hooded cloak, and beneath the hood a mask and a hat spotted with a few dots. In one hand he held a cane and in the other he kept a hold of his hat maybe to keep if from flying away in the wind.
"It's a beautiful city if one seeks to appreciate it." he continues in a voice thick with accent and slightly breathy with age but gentle like a song, "A land of wonders, of promise and dreams. Though it does not seem to be kind to the weak."
"Umm..." who the fuck and why? How?
"Oh, forgive me. I have forgotten to introduce myself." he laughs, "I am Boon. Explorer, student and artist! It is delightful to meet another wanderer appreciating these breathtaking sights. You seemed to have the look of one who'd appreciate the simple wonders in life so I decided to humbly invite myself to your roof."
"Artist?" I blink, "Explorer?"
"I have something of an obsession with uncharted places and interesting thing." Boon explained, "My brief stay has taught me that there are quite a few fascinating mysteries to be solved in this city."
Brockton Bay? Interesting? Mysterious? This guy was either hitting the happy juice a little too hard or belonged in a mental asylum.
My confusion must have been clear on my face because Boon laughed once again.
"Mysteries need not be quite grand little one." he gestured to me, "Even a simple one like 'what is a little girl doing on a rooftop all alone?' can be quite rewarding to solve." he looked to the city, "I do so love a good mystery and who knows what other marvels there are to uncover."
Mental asylum. Definitely. I decide to move onto a different, more saner subject. "You're new to this city?"
"Quite new." he nodded, "For so long I've felt drawn here. So many tales some full of wonders and some full of sadness. I simply had to see it for myself. And what a time I chose to arrive! This city has come alive with activity, so lively and energetic. "
...Hornet. He was talking about Hornet.
I look away with guilt at the thought of the maimed Ward once again. The question intruded my thoughts once again. How do I fix things?
"But enough about me." he continues, "What is a young little sprout like you doing in such a place like this. Not many of your age would not be seen doing the same."
"Maybe I'm just different." I suggest neutrally. I definitely was.
"Maybe." he allows, "But you've a look of sadness to you and I hoped that I could be of some help to a fellow explorer."
Help. I looked at the masked man. How could he ever... mask.
"You're a cape." I say feeling stupid.
"I have been called that." he admitted, "I believe that I was called a 'rogue cape' during my talk with the masked administration but I've found that I prefer the term 'tourist' much more agreeable with me."
"You're not a hero?" the question came out more as a instinct than anything else. I'd spent half my life idolizing capes. It was hard not to think of anyone not becoming a hero if they weren't going villain.
"I never said that."
I blink confused, "You said you were a rogue!"
"Ah!" he raised a finger, "But can a rogue not be a hero? Or perhaps you adhere to the definitions of the masked administration? I personally disagree with their categorizations, along with methods. I've found them to be... incomplete."
I begin to protest, trying to defend the PRT (that was the masked administration he was talking about right?) but...
I hadn't caught up with the news yet but I was sure that the PRT had labeled me a villain by now. But I wasn't a villain. I couldn't be. I hadn't meant for Aegis to get hurt. I needed help. I needed to learn to control my power. To solve the puzzle of my Dreams. I...
Boon looks at me curiously. "You must be carrying quite a burden for one so young. I rarely see eyes that have such anxiety like yours do."
"What do you know?!" I snap, suddenly angry at this stranger butting into my life, "I don't know you and you don't know me."
Boon raised his hands in surrender, "I simply meant-"
"I'm not some puzzle for you to enjoy." I snarl, "I look sad? Don't judge me!"
"..."
"I'm not... I..." my knees wobble as the anger leaves me, and suddenly I feel like crying, "I can't..."
I didn't want to be a villain. I didn't want to go the jail.
I didn't want to leave.
.
I'm worthless.
I can't do anything properly.
A waste of space and time.
Before I was a loner with no friends. Now I was freak.
Everyone would be better off if I was gone.
.
Emma had been telling it to my face for months.
.
I wondered when I'd begun to believe it.
It does not know its strength.
...
It must learn before it is too late.
There's an unfamiliar weight on my shoulders as I begin to cry.
.
.
.
I wanted to see mom.
I wanted to go home.
Perhaps... a small glimpse.
Open thy eyes little ghost. See what thou must face.
An explosion of gold.
A battle of feathers and minds, of Hopes, Dreams and Nightmares.
It can play the game. The tournament for the divine.
The battle that ended in the past, began in the present and is happening in the future.
No rules are set. No limits barred.
To watch upon it is to abandon Hope and seek Despair. To revel Beauty and accept Horror.
To be victorious is to ascend further.
To lose is to be eaten by the void without mind.
Loss is unacceptable.
Ţ̵̧̢̢̛̘̹͕̫̼͔̠̲̪̹͖̪̹͔̳͈͉̰͙̼̝͔͚͈̝͊̃̒̎̏͑͗̅̓̒̐̀͋̊̄̿̑̍̈́́̅͐̔̇̆͂͗̓̒̀͂̆͑͛̔̏̾̀́̚̕̚͠͝ȟ̷̢͎̟̜͎̰͙͎̹͕̱̥͎̳͉̘͇̼͈͙̫̯̦̫̼͙͖̣͉̺̫̫̦̇̌͐̊̈́̓̄͆̋́̀́̀́̑̑͂̔̒̅͌͒̓͋̏̽̃̊̚͘͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅë̶̛͇̤̺̩̞̣͔́͑͆̔́̅͐̊͌͋͜͜ ̶̳̋̽͒̋̍̄͋̉͗̄̋̃̽̀͒̕̚͝͠͠͝͝Ŕ̴̡̨̧̢͍̪̝̥̫͔̺̜̬̼̯̻̲͕̺̳̦͉͙͉̜͍̀̔̍̑̚ä̷̢̧̧̢̧̛̺̬͖̜̤̦͚̹͎̤̝̩͍͍̖͇͉̦͖͕̼̮̣̠̤̭̞̬̲̠͇̲̼̥́̓̔̃͂͛͑̄̇̾̾͒̒̄͛̂͛̓͂͆͂̅̈́̿́̕̕͠͠d̶̨̨̧̟̪̻̪̲̥̝̖̩͇̥̼̞̣̺͈̻̙̹̼̳̪̠͎̣̹͉͚̣̺͔͐͆̍͒͂͜͜ͅį̷̡̡͔̥͚̹̯̩̺̗͎̭̘̠͍̟̙̹̦̟̈́ä̸̢̧̛̟̭̱̆̆͑̍̉̇̐́̉͜͜͝n̴̨̢̡̨̖͙͉̭̙̯͉̦̫̠̥̣͙̦̝̟͙̤̤̗͈̱̳̖͉̺̯̜̘̜̯̪̜̯̺͐̀͂̈́̓̈́̿͂͋̊̍̈̈́̑̇͑̆̇̚͝͠͠͝ͅc̶̡̧̡̡͖̻͉̭̖͓͚͍̰͔̤̲͖̮͇̦̬͈̤̞̦̳̦͈̯̮̠̠̺̔̆̈́̑͑̓̄̎̉̇͗̽̈́̚͝ͅę̴̛̻̤͎̪̘̘͚̼̖͉͔͙̻̭̪͚͍̫̱̗̲̼̞̲̲̥̱͙̿͂͌͗̅͑̑̍̀̎̽̃̽́̾̚͜.̵̨͈̳̺͛̐͂̑̋̀̈̈́̐͛͌̀͋̂͐̔͠͠ ̵̡̡̡̘̼̗̹̣̲̞͇̼̯̦͓̦͇̱̘̔̆̋͐̅̏̎́͗̈́̑͘̕͜͜T̶̡̡͙͉̞͍͔̬͌́̽̀̋̏̋͌̀̇̿́̑̅̏͛͑͂̊̈̀̊͌̾̄̓̕̚͘͝͝h̴̨̡̢̡̡̝̥̫̮͈̝͍̥̜͍͎̲͙̲̘̤͚͚̞̜̼͉̤̟̲̥̲̘͍̬̺̋̒̎̽̆̔̉̐̂̓̇̿͂̌͑̕͠ͅȩ̴̢̢̢̨̛̜̥̳̟͙̤͚̫̬̦̻̼̘͉̥̗̬͚̗͈̻̲̥̼͖̗̬̠̠͕̄̂̒̓͆̋̆̂̀́͐̊̍̀͛͋̄͗̀͗̎̽̔͊͒͘͘͘͘͜͜͝ͅͅ ̶̢̳̹͖̺̪̗͂̂̇̓̈́̅̄̔̏̆̽̔͛̅͛̔̇́͌́̾̀̍̌͌̚̕͘͘͝G̶̨̢̧̤̳̻̹̭̝̺͎̳̝̩͙͔͈̊́̅̋̆̀͠r̵̡̢̨̢̧̢̧͖̭̙̭͍̲͍͍̯̘͎̥̥̞͔̹̣̟̳͓̺̮͉̲̰͔̞̻̠̩̟͉̙͉͎͖̪̮̀̌̾̈́͋̀́́̒͌̈́̋̂͛́̃̎͊̍̓̀̕͜͝͝į̶̫͇̥̥͊̐̓̍̔͑̐̋͋͂̑̎̍̉̌̂̆̂͊̽͝m̷̢̠̙̭͚̖̞͓̙̼̻̬̘̻̞̠̱͎̭̻̳̱͖͇̟̟̘̦͈̗̼̘̠̊͋͋̏̍̀͛͑̔̿͂̀̓͊͂̿́̒͠m̴̢̢̧̯̰͍͓͚͈̮͔̳͙͔͖̩̖͚̭͇̱̣̑̒̀͒̉̈̈́́̀̓͌̎̑̊̽͂͋́͐͂̆͂̂͛̀̕͜͠͝͠ͅ.̸̛̹͍͈̣͓͙̲̯̻̩̺͐́̈͊̈͋̐̓̈́͗͒́̓̄͊̈́̒͆́͑̂̂̀͑̓̋̈́̕̕̕͜͜͝͝͠͠ ̴̧̧̨̰͈̙̹̹͈̩̼̯͔̥͍̺͓͇̣̩̳̭̞͙̘̼̳̝̲̲͇̲̻̗͚̦̀̊̈́̍̀͆̈́̈́̿̆͒̂̍̑͐̀͆͑̈́͗͒̎̀͐̏̌͐̕͝͠ͅŢ̴̨̨̨͉͕͉͇̠͕̤̝̮̦̲͚͖̱̩̮͍͚̬͙͕̝̹̙͚͙̪͇̭̣̯̉̄͜ͅͅͅh̴̨̪̤̃̐̏̓͂̃̄̈́̈́͂̾̋̑̾e̶̡̢̨̢̡̨͈̳̟̳͚͍̱̟̭̬͖̪̦̩͇̪͔̠͌́̉̊͗͊̑͒͠-̸̢̨̡̧̡̡͕̙̭͈̠̣̤̳̳̜̣͚͍̪̺͉̼̯̣̼͓̘͈̠̥̺͔̲͂̃̿̂͜ͅͅͅͅ
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[Query?]
I open my eyes.
My Dreams are back in full.
I blink as I slowly take stock of my surroundings trying to remember where I am. It's late now, near dusk. I've tucked myself into a little ball and there's a cape covering my shoulders and I'm leaning against...
.
I scramble away from Boon. "I'm so sorry." I begin to apologize, "I didn't mean to... I have... I mean... I'm-"
"You are correct. I do not know the reason for your distress nor do I have any right to interfere in your buisness but it is clear you are suffering." Boon said, "But never give in to despair little one. Always have faith." he gestured at the setting sun, "The sun will fall and the world swallowed by darkness but that need not mean that the world will be one of gloom. The stars will shine, the moon will smile and even before that, the setting sun is ever so beautiful. Things are only so grim when you believe them to be so."
I look at the horizon.
It is beautiful. A symphony of oranges, reds and yellow all perfectly blended together with the clouds and the sea.
.
Boon doesn't talk any further only gesturing to the spot next to him.
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Together we watch the colors fade into darkness.