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"No.  It's never the wisest course."

 

Stronghold didn't know what to say.  Her parents would, so would Kalani, but she... Haukea knew her own limitations, and convincing people was definitely one of them.  She never was that good at talking to people she didn't know.  "Maybe the supervillains could do more if non-supers weren't there, but..."

 

She looked out at the city, raising the platform to the roof.  Well away from the edge.  "If you're not there, what point is there to us?"

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GM

Amelyth

"Uh...okay. If you think this'll work..."

Kneeling uncertainly on the sidewalk and leaning gingerly against Amelyth's offered hand, Ted swallowed loudly and composed himself for the uncertain future. Opening one eye and looking up, he added "Uh...I'll keep the stuff with me 'n Stacy to myself then, if I can."

The psychic's shimmering hand laid against the man's thin membrane between his mind-self and the draconic psionic's, and with a rush and flare of purple light, Amelyth broke the bounds of Ted and plunged into his mindscape.

Even among the welling rush and swells of drifting thoughts, closing over and around her like gentle waves as she passed the confused muddle and crush of conscious thought, Amanda could feel something lurking behind it. Crossing into the deeper layers, the physical world fading away as older memories and heavier currents of imagination, Amelyth easily tracked her way to a small corner of Ted's ornate castle of insecurity, standing like a sullen banner on a hill of worn-out hopes. And on its fearful ramparts, looking out over the gray-cast world of Ted's heart, sat a demon.

It wasn't made of anything, and shifted form like coiling smoke, but fire peeked out from the core of evil, and a heavy chain led from it to the unformed mass of thoughts above. Malice emanated from it, and it was impossible to look at the thing and think it meant any good.

Suddenly, it seemed to notice Amelyth, and stared at her with bland curiosity. "Well" it commented, its voice like seeping oil and dull hate "you are new. Come to help? You cannot, of course. Better go. Give up."

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GM

Rene de Saens

Arriving home, the ancient painter pottered around for a bit, fiddling with sketch lines and oil layers, strolling through an experimental historical novel a friend had sent him from France(not bad, and oddly thoughtful, though the anachronisms stood out like nails in a shoe) before preparing for a quick nap.

Even before his gnarled head hit the pillow, a faint murmuring had started to trickle into his ears. A slow, monotonous drumbeat of cold despair.

As he drifted into the Dream Dimension, stepping around the usual passel of cats scampering after imaginary mice, the words slid home like cold iron. "You can't do it. Look at yourself. See the gulf between you...and Them."

The painter woman from earlier was sitting at a desk, watching her sketchbook turn into a butterfly-spider, a hand like oily smoke on her shoulder. Even in the psychedelic world of the Dream Dimension, they stood out as gauzy and unreal.

At the word 'Them', the change began. The shifting colors under Rene's feet turned to a burnished mirror of silver, spires of gold arose around him thrumming with neon-lined technology, and in moments the air was full of beautiful, laughing, gamboling men and women in brilliant outfits. They flew, swung, beat the air with red-scaled wings or surfed by on rivers of iridescent rock. Hand in hand or alone, all of them seemed to pulse with life, while the woman standing in front of the painter Rene had met, in her plaid suit and square glasses, looked pallid and lifeless.

"You see, sis?" she was saying with a helpless shrug "What place will we have?"

Clutching her head in her hands, Marsha visibly struggled to wake up, fading in and out...and fading back in with a flicker of glee from the shadow standing behind her, man-high and bearing massive wings held aloft like cathedral walls.

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GM

Stronghold

Mr. Bae considered that, smoothing back some of his ruffled black hair with a dubious look.

"I see...that's a very good point. Not like there's whole civilizations of supers out there or anything"

Sighing with resignation, he flung up his hands "Fine, so be it. I won't try anything like this again. I'll just call my psychiatrist and let him know he's in for the long haul on this one." Flashing a bright, if wry smile at the ochre ring-bearer, he tapped the construct with a well-shod foot "So, if that'll be everything, I'd appreciate a drop off, miss. I need to reassure some horrified employees in there!"

Glancing around the sheer walls of polished glass and concrete that made up Midtown, he snapped his fingers as his eyes wandered north "Ah! And if you get the time, A.S.T.R.O. Labs is having a little expo in a convention hall nearby. One of my reps, Abby, can give you an in if you'd like. It's a dream-sharing setup, lovely tech, worth every penny that Dr. Faiur's insured on it!"

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Smiling, Haukea set the man down.  "You're welcome.  And yeah, I think that might be a good idea, okay?  Hope it goes well.

 

And yeah, I might have a look..."

 

She saw him walking down the stairs before she frowned, thinking.  The guy said he wasn't being influenced, but... that was a really odd tangent, right at the end.  Really, really odd.  

 

Might be worth checking out.  Something had to be behind this.  

 

Stronghold started flying over to ASTRO labs, thinking all the way.  

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The picture was taking form. 

 

Something was sapping the will from the artist. And maybe not just her. Something was preying on the insecurities, the existential angst, and forming. The oily hand on her shoulder, would it be an arm soon? and then a body? and then a mouth, with which to feed?

 

Rene had entered and lived through the twentieth centuries witnessing the ever growing number of transcendent men and women. Full of energy, strength. Made from machines, mutated, enchanted, or any number of reasons. Demi-gods. Usually furiously handsome, and often furiously righteous. 

 

Where did that leave mortal men? Where did that leave the brave and heroic everyman? The situation was revolting, if one thought about it. A painting that could only leave one wondering at the madness of Gods and Fates. Of course, those very same men and women in shiny suits might wear masks from their own eye of self perception. Did they really do good? Or did they feed their ego, and stamp, even if unwittingly, at least ignorantly, on the ego of the normal? 

 

He would feel more joy and optimism if at least one of these superman at least acknowledged the awfulness. Yes, the fates had been kind, no it was not fair, no, power did not give moral authority...perhaps it had been said, but he could not recall hearing it. The only true moral fibre was doubt, in his opinion. Certainty was the root of evil. 

 

But despite the grim foundations of the situation, there was no call for a malignant psychic tumour to nuture the despair of such fundamemental questions. 

 

Gently, he approached the painter in the dream world and turned her round. 

 

"Your dreams are your own. Not to be invaded...." he said,kindly, making her face the parasite...

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So this is what's lurking inside the guy's head, maybe it's just a representation of his depression or maybe it's even something invading his mind! But there was no way Amelyth was just going to stand there and do nothing about it!

 

She lets out a growl and gets into a fighting stance, "Just what I'd expect some kind of depression ghost thing to say. You wanna bet ghosty?" Her claws form around her fists as she does a mighty leap into the air and does her best to smash the depression-ghost-thing into pieces!

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GM

Riff

As it turned out, the sound-warper was called for much sooner than expected.

"In here," said the barrel-chested, gray-haired officer as he led the superhero to one of the precinct cells, glancing at the younger man in brief worry "uh...Mr. Wilder? That...that right? Or is it just Ri-yeah I'll stick to Riff. M'niece loves your work..."

Coughing to dispel the growing fog of awkwardness, the policeman ushered Warren into the jail. The woman from earlier was sitting on the simple bench, head in her hands and breathing shallowly.

From the first step inside, Riff had been able to hear something off about the ambient noise in the precinct. But only now did he know what it was. Her lips were moving rapidly, and from the whispers at the edge of conscious hearing she was talking a mile a minute.

"Been asleep since she got in there" explained Officer Crenshaw, looking at his charge with real pity "name's Helen Gioielli, CPA. No priors and she bought the gun years ago. Claimed she'd heard about the formula in a dream, and they must be really somethin', 'cause none of us can get her to wake up again." Turning another look towards the young superhero, he added cautiously "So...got any ideas?"

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GM

Amelyth

Despite all she did, none of Amanda's blows struck home. Even as her dragon's claws raked at the sinister thing in Ted's mind, it vanished and attacked with cries like sledgehammers as it reappeared. Gusts of mental winds passed clean through the entity, and the one time she managed to get it close enough for a pulse of psychic power the thing blew apart...only to reform seconds later and send her crashing into a heap of fading memories with a lash of its many arms.

Stalking onto the half-forgotten edifice above her, the demon looked down at its enemy with maddening cool "I am immutable here. Thanks to my efforts, I am as much a part of this man's being as his love for his children. Anchored here and in the Unwaking Underworld, even your might is useless against us!" Coiling its tail around its spider's legs, the thing all but grinned down at Amanda, hampered only by lacking s mouth "Like I say to him every day...it's pointless. Your efforts are futile. Get you gone from here..." a thousand blades sprang from the demon as it suddenly bored pure hate into the draconic psionic "...or else remain forever. To even scratch me, this human would need to change his heart! And you have not the power to do that!"

It telescoped out like a gust of smoke, whispering as it neared Amanda's astral projection "Leave. At once."

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GM

Stronghold

The ASTRO Summer Expo was one of Freedom's newer traditions. As younger and younger technicians and researchers joined the prestigious scientific institution, they brought with them a stronger and stronger urge to show the world what they'd come up with, contrasting sharply with the quieter and more secretive older generation.

Naturally, much of their more important and government-sponsored work couldn't be shouted from the rooftops, but weird, implausible and esoteric gadgets and discoveries were more than fair game. So every summer since 2011, in the Midtown Convention Center, the the best and the bogglingest was put on display for all the world to see.

"Hi there!" said a slightly mussed-looking redhead with a tired smile and professional posture, her voice carrying clearly across the packed con floor. Or at least the dozen feet between her and the door Stronghold came in from. "Mr. Bae called, said you stopped him from...making a mistake" frowning a little at that, the older woman stepped over to shake Haukea's hand "Our project's over here, in the 'Mind and Mentality' section, if you would just follow me-"

Moving deftly through the throng into one of the square walled-off segments of the floor dominated by a gigantic banner of a purple 'Ψ'.

Among the myriad of bizarrely-shaped machines that somehow changed one's perception, chemical formulae that turned memories as flexible as putty for a few hours, laser setups that literally burned information into your retinas, the dream-sharer still stood out. What looked like two orange lawn chairs were joined at the head by a vivid grey cupola that hung over the semi-beds like an umbrella. Power cables led from it to a small, very quiet generator and control setup displaying brainwave patterns and synapse activity.

The narrow-faced and sullen-looking Dr. Faiur standing next to it was a significant clash, her crisp white coat, bulky goggles and black tool belt making the Indian woman look even more like a mad scientist than the outlandish machine could have done. After a quick, muted discussion with Abby, the doctor glanced once at Stronghold, nodded her assent, and raised the cupola, gesturing for the pair to take their seats. "You'll feel groggy when you wake up" she warned while holding a heavy, flexible mask over their eyes for a few seconds "but it's the only way to get you into and out of REM fast enough. Now relax..."

The last of her words was lost as both lost consciousness, Haukea only barely aware of the cupola closing over their heads and lighting up...

The first thing Stronghold 'saw' was a blasted cityscape, and Abby running frantically towards a small child lying in the path of two nightmares of metal and flesh...

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GM

Rene de Saens

At first, Marsha seemed not to see anything, and just glanced in confusion between the empty void of the dream and the vague apparition beside her. Then the shadow before her spoke again.

"He's right. In this sanctum of the unfettered mind, any interference or deception is a great evil. So in that case..."

The glittering metropolis vanished, and the costumed crusaders slid with it into the shifting colors of the dreamscape with a suddenness that had their laughter fading long after they were gone from sight. As they vanished, the demon appeared in full, a looming shadow that spread across the horizon.

"Behold. Honesty."

Marsha promptly turned and ran, a silver wall slamming down in front of the shadow behind her. Behind it the demon grumbled briefly to itself, and with a crash the wall crumbled, the demon beginning to steal across the glassy field of dreams. As it slowly passed Rene, the thing looked down at him "No useless gestures, please. I am the strong one here, regardless of whose minds are nearby. The woman could probably use a-" interrupted by a burning cage that rose up to surround it, the demon spat a curse and began crushing its way through, all eyes on its massive body glaring after the receding figure of Marsha.

"As I was saying" it hissed "please exercise your heroic prerogative, and make her see reason. Maybe then her mind will stand still so I can crush her spirit beneath my voice."

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Amelyth looked around the nightmare landscape, crap, how was she going to get out!? As far as she could tell she had unintentionally trapped herself here.

 

Okay, maybe this is just like a really, really lucid dream? I can't even feel myself out on the street there! she took a deep breath, If this is a lucid dream deal, then... all I have to do is imagine a door? A door back to me, yeah.

 

Her dreamself reached out a hand as if she could do something, but then saw that the landscape of the ruined castle around her seemed to be already providing her with a door, she made a mad dash for it and when it opened it just led to another part of the castle! If this place really did control all of the "dreamscape" around her... she felt a sinking feeling as the realization that she might be trapped here with this thing started to sink in.

 

But a glimmer of hope still remained: she had passed through "layers" on her way down here right? All she needed to do was pass back through them right!?

 

In a blind panic the heroine flapped her wings and set course straight for the sun of this dreamworld.

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"I am not so sure" smiled Rene back. Whatever this thing was, it was powerful. In the Dreamscape, only few could match his power. But there was, as somone said, always a bigger fish. 

 

But the dreamscape was strange, and small was sometimes big, and big was sometimes small. 

 

"I am not a hero, you see. Just a helpless old man who has seen much" he said to the Demon, without moving. 

 

"So now tell me again why I should do anything? For I my ears are full of wax, and my head is full of doubt. I am sure ze right thing to do is simple. But then again, nothing is simply right, Oui?"

 

He turned slowly to Martha, running away. 

 

"Existential angst, as my freind Satre used to say. If Gods are to come, what purpose life of man? That is ze question she must ask herself, and that she must answer. Without you" he said to the demon. "And without me"

 

"So why would a spirit of ze dreams be so eager to feed on despair, hmmm? are you really that weak?" he asked, directly and with level eyes, to the demon. "I fancy you are tenderizing ze meat with the bleakest pictures!"

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GM

 

Amelyth

 

Flying into the 'Sun' of Ted's mindscape, Amanda saw the world fold out around her, the sensations of the physical universe reasserting themselves now that her mind was fully enclosed in her body once again. The abstract world of Ted faded, but not before she heard the demon, chuckling to itself, start flying back to the barricades of insecurity.

 

Still kneeling, Ted started as Amelyth's consciousness disentangled from his own, and blinking up hopefully at the young heroine he asked eagerly "Did..did you get it? Am I cured?"

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GM

 

Rene de Saens

 

The wall of darkness seemed to shift to better look at Rene, and the old painter felt eyes appearing nearby.

 

"Really? You have the smell of a mortal, but the air of a Dreamer...as you say, visitor. Few lie to our kind."

 

Progressing onwards over the ephemeral dreamscape as the cage slowly broke and crumbled, the demon continued languidly "Self-knowledge and self-determination is all well and good, Wakeful One, but freedom goes only so far with your kind. Your race are so much cattle, they must be driven to do more than just exist and copulate. Their dreams are fitful and easily-swayed, and it is strength that a demon loves. The weak areRAAAUGGH"

 

Silver lances crashed up through the darkness, goring the demon in a thousand places. Shouting aloud with anger, the wall seemed to constrict in on itself, the lances burning and melting away. A distant golden tower appeared in the mist, with Marsha flattening herself against it, staring at the monster creeping closer.

 

"You see?" the demon said to Rene as the last spear fell out of the world, the ponderous mass resuming its trek "Her own thoughts in her own mind cannot expel me. She is a mere distraction, a snack on my passage to greater dining. The strongest of your world are elusive enough without this trash cluttering the planet. Driven to despair and self-hatred with only a few such instances as this, I shall sow through her the seed of something great, something to poison the wills of many and make your already trembling world shiver in fear!"

 

"I am weak indeed, Wakeful One, but what must be borne in mind is that to us" the wall condensed for a flickering instant into an image of Rene in his younger days, though with eyes like bottomless pits "your race is even weaker. If you don't stop me. Who will?" 

Edited by Arichamus
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Rene sensed a trap in the demons words. Or perhaps the shadow of a trap. 

 

"Now tell me, demon. Why do you goad me to fight? Either you are confident of your success, which may be deemed unwise, or your are scared of my inaction?" he asked. The problem, he thought, was that merely fighting the demon may empower it. 

 

All was never as it seemed....

 

What he needed was to wake Martha up. 

 

"Or perhaps, I should just...."

 

He woke up. 

 

Scanning the room, he saw the picture Martha had made. All pictures were doorways to Rene. A portal. He could walk into a picture and be there. Transported to the location that had been captured in the print. 

 

He had never tried this before. It was difficult, even dangerous. 

 

But perhaps, if the picture had captured enough essence of the painter. He could use the picture to walk to the painter...not the painting. 

 

With a grunt, he got up, and with will powering his speed, with his mind cascading through the wall that separated reality from imagination, he dived into the painting...

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Amelyth looks down and shakes her head, trembling "There's some evil... depression ghost thing setting up shop in your head. I couldn't do anything to it. It... it said you would have to 'change your heart' to even have a chance of beating it." She takes a deep breath and holds her head in her hands, "Looks like in the end I was even more useless than you were, I felt utterly powerless against that thing."

The heroine tries to think of anyone, anyone at all that might be able to help this poor guy out. "There's, there's gotta be something we can do to fight it..."

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GM

Stronghold

The last of her words was lost as both lost consciousness, Haukea only barely aware of the cupola closing over their heads and lighting up...

The first thing Stronghold 'saw' was a blasted cityscape, and Abby running frantically towards a small child lying in the path of two nightmares of metal and flesh...

 

As Haukea entered the dreamscape, she saw the sight... and started running as well, towards Abby, the small child... and to get between them and the nightmares.  It's all a dream.  Has to be.  But it seems so... real.

 

She raised her hand- and of course the Orange Ring was there.  She was here to see whether she could protect people.  So of course it would be there.  

 

And she planted herself between Abby and the monsters.  "Get to the kid, I'll make sure they don't get to you."

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GM

Rene de Saens

Opening like a metallic flower, the painting drew in and engulfed the ancient wizard. A cascade of colours and sensations flowed through him as the distance between he and the artist of the work was drawn short, space folding like napkin to bring the seeker and object together.

With a bound, Rene deftly entered Marsha's cramped student apartment, knocking over a (blessedly empty) can of paint as he emerged from her easel. The woman was slumped over a desk covered in books about light physics, breathing deeply and evenly. If somebody had seen her then, and not what Rene's keen dreamsight had seconds before, they'd have said Marsha looked outright peaceful.

It didn't take much to wake her up. Starting at Rene's approach, the pessimist's head jerked up, the placid expression twisting into horror and panic as she jumped awkwardly up and grabbed a nearby knife, staring at the old man in front of her for a few seconds before slowly relaxing, and lowering the weapon. Favoring him with a sour look she said "Wow. It's like you're bent on seeing me at my weakest and most pathetic. What a hobby."

Shifting he chair over to a low window, she sat heavily down, staring at the world outside. "So...what do you want? Gonna tell me you know how to kill that shadow thing? Got advice on dream-fighting? I hear it used to be all the rage in primitive cultures"

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GM

Stronghold

At the approach of the superheroine, the monsters, a confused tangle of materials that seemed to have neither beginning nor end as they blended together, halted in a scrabble of limbs and sniffed the air. A low, guttural sound started to come from them, resolving itself into a clear snicker.

Snatching up the whimpering baby, Abby held it close, squinting into the distance, asking nervously "Where...where do we go now? Should we find the baby's parents?". The wreckage strewn around the duo constantly shifted and flickered, changing seamlessly. Haukea also had a vague sensation of moving, though where was impossible to guess with the subtly-changing landmarks and constant haze.

"Good thing she's here." Said one of the monsters, its eyeless face leering at Abby.

"Otherwise you'd be helpless." Said the other, mouthlessly grinning. Abby's eyes flashed "That's not true!" She yelled furiously, but a sudden false jump from one of the monsters sent her darting away, renewing the sniggers.

"See?" said the second.

"You should leave her behind," the first told Stronghold as it began stalking in a slow arc around the two "she just slows you down. Like all the rest. You'd be gone by now if not for her."

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Rene relaxed, falling into a nearby chair and slumping head into his hand. That had cost him. Jumping into paintings was one thing, jumping into the spirit of a painting, quite another. Especially one so bleak. 

 

"Madame, you need not spice your words with such Sarcasm. Believe me, I have heard worse and better" he said, wearily. 

 

"You think dreams are unreal? Non, this is not true. They exist as surely as Gods do, in the minds of men" he tapped his temple. "This is not to be denied. And what is in the minds of men has such power"

 

"I do not know if despair is your own or not, Madame. But I think you are being fattened, like the turkey before Christmas. For a feast. And the feeder is grown strong. Not on just you, I imagine. Non, I think he has a gluttony to feed on. Despair is his meat, Hopelessness is sauce. And hope will be his poison" he finished defiantly. 

 

"The questions you ask are for you to answer, and no easy ones they will be. Do not let the answer be given to you!" he said, shaking his fist at her. "Your questions! Your answers! This is what it means to be free!"

 

He slumped back into his chair, awaiting her response, and taking a moment to see where Martha lived, and what kind of person she was...

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Amelyth snaps her fingers, trying her best to remember all the random side studying she did back in Claremont, she remembers something useful and that gives her a bit of hope, "I- I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's some nightmare demon called the Inner Specter. It going around, filling random people all over town with negative emotions while making them all self-conscious about their flaws just for kicks." She lets out a long sigh of semi-feigned relief, "I think I know where to start, there's some expo over at the A.S.T.R.O. labs that has some dream-related thing that might help us figure this out; or we could go find some mystical hero to deal with it."

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Haukea looked at the two figures for a moment, before chuckling.  "Seriously?"

 

She held up the Orange ring, which started to shine.  "I took up this for a reason.  Else it probably wouldn't work for me.  

 

That wasn't to save my own skin."

 

Suddenly, orange energy formed over her costume, collecting into a breastplate and a pair of greaves.  "I took up this ring to protect people.  I'm not abandoning that just because you two seem to take notes from Hannibal Lector."

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GM

Rene de Saens

The apartment was cramped and stuffed with things. None of it was useless or decorative besides the paintings hanging on a few walls, showing off a plethora of different styles(including something so like a Titian it was a surprise to see another name in the corner), and whether it was a pile of books in a corner dedicated to the laws of most of the fifty states, a well-used ironing board or a collection of paint cans, everything was put carefully into order. On the desk where Marsha had been sleeping was a thick pile of single-spaced papers headed with something about a new traffic law in Atlantic City.

Besides the splashes of artistic color on the walls, everything was quite flat and plain. Gathered and ordered to present the image of a serious mind to an even dense observer.

Its owner shrugged irritably at Rene's words, flicking dark hair away from her face "Well, if that's true, why do I keep failing? If it's just that I have to want to be free, why aren't I?"

Picking up an admirably garish La Siren(collector'sitemfigurine) action figure from the window, she started idly bending and twisting the limbs, glaring at the plastic, eternal smile on the thing's lips "I'm not gonna do anything drastic, but this has been going on for a while now. And every time one of you comes under something like it, they always just punch out the thing and walk away without a care in the world. But I..." her grip tightned on the toy, a faint creaking starting to build as Marsha gritted her teeth, pale face turned fully on the tiny Siren "...I. Just. Can't. Win!"

With a crack, Siren fell in two halves to the floor, bouncing into a corner. "It's not my job to win at that stuff" she muttered, for a moment sounding very young "you people are supposed to do it. We can't fight the monsters you do, we can't do jack against aliens or supervillains or even our own dreams. I don't deserve to win. We don't even deserve to live here, if we're all so useless..."

Rene could see, clear as day, the black strands as they thickened. They led from Marsha's head to her easel.

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"Everyone fails"

 

Rene bent down, not without pain thanks to stiff joints, and picked up the fallen Siren, looking at it slowly, and turning it in an equally sedate mannner. 

 

"It is in mans nature to worship ze Gods, be they real, be they false. It is through Gods that Man knows himself, and it is a not as noble or pretty as Shakespeare said. Man is afraid. Afraid of many things, like being alone. Or being powerless..."

 

He let Siren drop to the floor, tumbling out of his hands. 

 

"Man hopes the impossible, wishes he has control when he has none. Wishes he can influence the stars, the rain, the plague. All through ze ages. Believes he has power when he has none. Appeals to spirits and djinn and Gods that exist only his mind. For Man would rather be slave to the benign than free to fail"

 

He spun around. 

 

"But it is failure that drives Man forward, do you not see? It is Failure that makes us spit back in rage! Non! I will not accept! Non! will not bow!" he said, more animated. 

 

"It is not with lance of lightning or Godly fist that Man overcomes...it is with ze spirit of defiance! Non! Non! Non! Even without an atom of strength, even without a hint of knowledge, Non! Non! Non! I do not accept! This is what drives Man forward!"

 

He kicked Siren across the floor in contempt. 

 

"And now, we have Gods that walks the streets, fly through ze Clouds, and Thunder through ze Sea. To them, their domain, to them, their victories. But to all, Liberty! Liberty!"

 

"I will not defeat your dream demon. You will!" he said in all honesty. "Do not accept to be his meat, do not accept it!"

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