The Way
Sleepless in Paragon. PG [Depression, inner demons.], 2,138.


Darkness crept into every inch of what was Phoebe McAllister. She watched in horror as her blue costume melted away, only to be replaced by the black leather monstrosity she knew all too well, covered with buckles and cut too low or too high in all the wrong places. It didn't appear and flow onto her: it sprouted from deep within her.

She staggered backwards, trying desperately to rip the black leather from her body, to tear it away and turn back to normal. But her struggle only caused it to spread faster. She tried with all her might to tear the patch of black leather that was growing on her chest, but only succeeded in causing it to spread to her arms and overtake her normal blue arm warmers, which melted, then boiled and burst, to be replaced by those festering, buckled leather arm warmers. Shaking her head helplessly, she watched as the rest of her top melted away, leaving only the skimpy, ugly leather bikini top. She clutched the side of her head and could feel her mask stretching outwards to the wings she so hated even as her skirt melted away, revealing her legs, steel-toed knee-high boots replacing her normal blue boots.

Desperately, she tried to force her costume to change back, but the cape was already pouring out of her back. The dark purple light she was bathing in seemed to grow even more insidious as the terrible purple creature before her seemed to smirk, even without a mouth.

The darkness feels good, yes? Now you can be strong, like your father...

Phoebe saw the sinister visage of the dark planeswalker and screamed, and then found herself sitting upright on the floor of her bedroom again. Keiko was still asleep. She hadn't woken her up, at least. Next to Keiko's head was the digital alarm clock, which read 2:14 AM. A solid week, and she'd only managed to get three hours of sleep total so far. Every single night, she had that same terrible nightmare, and as much as she hated to think it, the only conclusion she could reach was that it had something to do with that alien parasite in Keiko's head.

Just thinking about it made Phoebe start shivering. She found herself rubbing her arms, trying to feel warm again. It wasn't Keiko's fault. Phoebe felt guilty for even thinking like that.

The clock rolled over to 2:15 AM. Phoebe knew she wouldn't be falling asleep again tonight. That nightmare, that promise of corruption, it was waiting for her every time she shut her eyes.

Instead, she let herself melt down into a puddle, and then she flowed out of the room under the door. Seconds later, she was pouring down the stairs and slithering under the door. She emerged onto the front walk and reformed in her costume, her blue costume. She stared up at the night sky and the city before her.

"If I'm not gonna sleep," she said to herself as her eyes began glowing with the Primal Force and she summoned an updraft of air to lift herself off the ground, "then I should at least do something useful."

Phoebe rose into the night, her eyes glowing brightly from the Primal Force. The air behind her, shaped into a continuous gale of wind that lifted her off the ground, also crackled with that same prismatic energy, tiny sparks that kept the current moving her towards the city. Engulfed by the Primal Force as she was, she took in the whole city, all it was, all it could ever be.

That, at least, made her feel a little better as she turned unsteadily. She still was pretty bad at flying, and she had to concentrate while making even the most gentle of banks, or else she's tumble out of the sky and splatter on the pavement. It didn't hurt her, but it was still pretty embarrassing. And she still hadn't gotten the landings right either.

From her vantage point forty stories above the streets, Phoebe could see a quiet night across the city. She swooped lower, disappointed by how quiet everything was. A few cars drifted through the maze of streets, but no police cruisers sped by with screaming sirens. The windows of local banks and jewelry stores were dark, and no alarms were blaring to signal a break-in. Paragon was quiet and safe tonight. Everyone was sleep, warm in their beds.

Everyone except Phoebe. She sighed and watched the near-empty streets drift by beneath her. Carefully, she rounded a corner near an old clock tower, and ran head-long into an unexpected cross-wind. The gust threw her off-balance, causing her to swerve and spiral, trying to regain control of her own flight. Try as she might, she still wasn't completely awake, and she'd flown too low in her patrol. She didn't have enough time to regain control before she crashed through a dirty old glass skylight and into the hard concrete floor of a darkened, dusty building. She wasn't even in control enough to hold her form together when she hit the concrete, splattering across the floor messily as the glass came clattering down from the ruined skylight.

Phoebe stayed like that, spread out across the floor as she regained her senses. Slowly, she pulled herself back together and reshaped herself lying on her back amongst the shards of glass, staring up at the broken skylight. She shook her head. Phoebe knew that she should've been sleeping, not going out on patrol. She was exhausted. She should've known better than to try to fly like this when she was so tired.

With a grunt, Phoebe sat up and looked around the darkened building. Dust clung to old exercise equipment and free-weights. Stacks of mats lying in the shadows looked like they hadn't been used in years. There was a big punching bag suspended from a rafter beneath a small second-story track that wrapped around the upper half of the building, and the bag looked like someone had patched it in a hurry with something meant for fixing a tire, not a piece of exercise equipment.

She sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. At least the place looked abandoned. No harm done...

"Who's there?" a gravelly voiced called out from somewhere in the darkness. Phoebe tried to peer through the shadows, and she could make out a figure, definitely a man, stalking towards her. She almost melted instinctively so she could slither away and hide, but she was in costume. Phoebe had a responsibility when she was Scion. She had to do the right thing.

So she pulled herself to her feet. "Sir, it's alright. My name is Scion, and I'm sorry about your skylight, but-"

"Scion?" the man repeated as he came closer. Phoebe caught his eyes and gasped as she saw an absolute darkness, and in that darkness, she saw her reflection

Phoebe reconsidered her previous plan to hide when the man spoke again. "Scion. Yeah, I know you." He stepped out from the darkness into the moonlight trickling through the broken skylight, and Phoebe saw that his eyes were gray and normal. She'd just been scared by a trick of the light. He was just over six feet tall, with graying stubble covering his jaw and chin. His hair was also just starting to go gray, and was getting thin in places. Lines were beginning to mark jowls and crows feet and creases of worry carved into his forehead by what must've been a long light. Phoebe blinked when she noticed that his right sleeve was empty, folded up and pinned in place with a safety pin. He was wearing a ratty collared shirt and jeans with a brown leather belt that should've been thrown out years ago.

"Like I said, I'm sorry about your skylight," she apologized. "I'll fix it for you."

He wagged a stubby index finger at her. "I know you," he repeated. "I've seen you fight on the news. You're sloppy."

"Excuse me?"

"Sloppy fighting. Watching you fight is like watching someone using a sledgehammer to push a thumbtack in." He chuckled, pacing around Phoebe. "Who taught you to use your powers, kid?"

Phoebe shook her head. "Who are you?"

"MacVern," he said. "Used to go by ‘Ghosthand'."

The girl blinked. The name sounded familiar, and suddenly the old man seemed familiar too. "Used to be with GEHIRN," he continued. "Might've seen me once in awhile."

She nodded. "You know that GEHIRN's gone now, right Mister MacVern?"

The old man nodded. "And you want me to join your new little club? Thanks, but I'll pass, kid. Got more important things to do. Gotta keep food on the table. No point wasting my time with you kids these days."

"But if you've got powers, see, this guy, Sentinel, has been organizing-"

MacVern laughed bitterly. "Sentinel? Hell, I'll keep my distance from that bastard. He knew how many of the old capes from GEHIRN I trained, and he'd probably have me shot if he knew I wasn't on the satellites when they went down."

"You trained people?" Phoebe asked, getting to her feet at last. "You mean, to fight, right?"

"Fighting, using their powers, whatever the angel wanted." MacVern leaned against a beam. "Ran a gym on the side, but," he gestured to the abandoned exercise equipment all around him. "well, you can see how well that turned out."

"Do you still train people with their powers?" Phoebe asked seriously.

"No."

The word hung in the still air between them as Phoebe felt hope drain away. "Oh."

"I work for a living, kid." He scratched his ear. "Nine to five as a trainer at Cleinman's Gym down on Fifteenth."

"Then what are you doing here?" Phoebe asked.

He laughed. "Can't sell this place, so I moved my bed into the office. Now if you don't mind, I've got work in the morning." MacVern turned to leave. "Let yourself out. I'll put plywood up in the morning."

"Please," Phoebe begged, stretching over to block his way. "If you're a trainer, maybe you could help me."

MacVern shook his head. "I'm not wasting my time on you, kid. I know your kind: all the power in the world but no sense. And you... you're Walker's kid."

She lowered her eyes.

"There's no point in me losing my job wasting time on you." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, but I've dealt with too many kids like you, and I know better now. Just go home and figure things out for yourself."

Phoebe grabbed his arm. "Please," she begged.

"Kid..."

"Please," Phoebe pleaded. "I'm the only one on my team who can't use her powers right. I'm not... I'm not pulling my weight anymore." She shook her head. "I can't keep doing that to my friends. I need to learn how to use my powers. Please."

MacVern shut his eyes. "Scion..." Phoebe looked up hopefully as he continued. "Goddammit. Okay, if... if I let you come here to train, you have to be ready to work harder than you've ever worked before. I don't pull punches, I don't want to hear whining, and I don't tolerate laziness. Clear?"

A smile started to cross Phoebe's face again. "Sure, Mister MacVern."

"I'll try to show you the Way then," he said. MacVern shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've got to be going out of my mind..."

"Thank you so much!" the girl said, stretching her arms out to hug the older man.

"Just be here at two every morning," MacVern told her. "The bar next door doesn't close before then, and I don't want to have to explain loud noises and bright lights to anyone. Got it?"

"I got it!" Phoebe chirped.

MacVern nodded. "Okay. Then I'll try to show you the Way..."

"The Way?"

MacVern held up his hand. "The Way," he explained, "is how my power works. I can see your power. I can sense it, and I can touch it. I can see what it could be. But the best I can do is help show you the Way you need to go to reach it. That's the Way."

Phoebe nodded seriously. "I know what you're saying. My powers... they let me see the possibilities for things too."

The old man almost smiled, but he stopped himself. "I've got your commitment, kid?"

"Yeah," Phoebe confirmed. "I'll do whatever it takes, Mister MacVern."

Blackness filled his eyes, a darkness that almost shone. Phoebe's reflection stood in his glassy, obsidian eyes as a white energy appeared at MacVern's side, which coalesced into a vague facsimile of an arm. "Then we're starting now. Show me what you've got, Scion."