Pan

Peter didn't want to, but if he was being entirely honest with himself, he had to admit that he was just a little bit rusty. Or a lot. He hadn't gone out into the world beyond Neverland seeking lost boys for so long, he was almost unsure of how to go about it now. If that wasn't hard enough, the world outside had changed nearly beyond recognition during his years of self-imposed solitude and reclusion. If he still had had his feelings, Peter was certain that he would have felt frightened. But he didn't feel anything, just an elusive sense of unease. But it was still just enough to unbalance him. Peter perched on a rooftop, not unlike a bird of prey, surveying and finally homing in, on its victim for the kill. This London felt much too foreign to him, alien, even. This London didn't feel like his London. Well, it never really was his London, at least not on the surface. But beneath the mediocrity, the unremarkable, and the sheer mundaneness of London to the naked and untrained eye, lay a London of thieves, of those unwanted, and of mischief makers of all sorts and kinds. That, that, was his London, and before Wendy, he'd been able to navigate the rooftops and tightrope that was his London. He'd been the puppet master pulling the strings, the conductor directing the orchestra, the judge ruling the final verdict. He'd done it all, and he'd done it well. But this London? Well, this London was like a map written backwards and turned all upside down; he couldn't read it. And if he couldn't navigate this London, how would he recruit his new gang of lost boys? A sudden movement in an alleyway far below him caught his eye. He watched with disinterest that gave way to curiosity, as he saw a boy wearing a crisply pressed shirt, jacket, and trousers, and with bold, shiny black shoes, with a backpack slung over his shoulder, peek quickly around the entrance to the alleyway, before darting into the light, and adopting a perfectly casual demeanor. Immediately, something, some sixth sense, told Peter that this boy, though seemingly well dressed, knew the dark side and pale underbelly of London that boys his age oughtn't. And even if Peter didn't know this new and strange London, who said he couldn't befriend someone who did? Unseen by the boy, the passersby, and the world below, Peter Pan smiled and whispered, unheard, "I see you."