The day I left no one tried to stop me, my great past was just that, the past; no one cared about me anymore. I took a train to the city my hero died in, hoping to prove he wasn’t dead. I bought my ticket in a half run-down, bare bones “station” that consisted of four walls and a ticket booth. I told the large lady behind the counter for a one-way. I paid and I sat down on the bench for the next train. A local punk tried to take my luggage; I let him get his hand around the handle before breaking his arm, nothing like pain to shape a kid up. I left him there as my train approached, screaming in agony as his bone peeked from under the skin, white and red gleaming from the over bright lights. I calmly got onto the train, I wasn’t worried, half the people in this town knew who I was anyways, punk was just not lucky enough to know. I calmly sat down and started reading the paper, looking for stories about ghosts, apparitions, aliens, haunting, anything that could lead me to my hero. I found mostly garbage, elections, world peace, economy, some bullshit story about a kid building a bridge across a one foot creek. I got half way and stuffed the paper in my coat. I attempted to get connected to Lithnet on my left-over Crabro days. I checked, no one there, as usual. Scorpion is the only one in the connection center now that everything has gone to shit. He’s only on the for memorabilia’s sake. I close my connection and put the sunglasses back into my pocket, no use in having them right now. The train stops, people get on, the train moves once more. I close my eyes and listen, I listen carefully to any clues that might be given to me about him. Half an hour passes, three stops, no clues to my hero, all stories of interest don’t point to his usually habits, I note them just in case but I highly doubt that any of the “ghosts” or “aliens” are what I’m looking for.

“Ironically those might actually be aliens or ghosts,” I think to myself, chuckling at my humor.

The skyline of the city approaches and I prepare my suitcase, while listening I overheard the name of the local gang boss near the trains. Guess that’s a good place as any to start, hero usually needed some drugs or prostitutes or anything to keep him on edge, he hated boredom. That’s probably why he was the greatest student and I was the worst, I was good with practical and probable, he was excellent at the impossible and the outlandish. I shrug off my thoughts and head to the local gang hang-out, I have a feeling I can run into someone who can give me food, shelter, and information…at a price of course, he was always a prick like that.





Second part, we see him in slight action. I have a good feeling about this one.