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Regret
Topic Started: Jan 27 2010, 10:18 PM (185 Views)
BurningBright
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I could have stopped all of this...why didn't I just check...I could have stopped it...

Those thoughts, unfortunately, were the first in Phil's head today. The dream kept replaying in his head, as vivid as the day it happened...he couldn't be here. Not here, and not the warehouse. He needed to be out, among people. Perhaps the medley of emotions out there on the streets could take his mind off of the terrible one in his memories.

~~~

-2 Months Ago-

It was a sunny day-and it was a good day. Phil had fixed the parking garage door late last night-really fixed it, not just a temporary solution. It was running fine. Ben and Matt had finished getting the bathroom installed-luckily, Ben had been able to locate the pipes where they could attach to the water system. He said he knew where to look because he used to help his dad, who did plumbing. Phil secretly doubted that though...the plumbing system in a warehouse shouldn't have been one of those "Oh, I know where it should be" things. Oh well. Phil didn't care how it was done, just that it was done.

That being said, today was Sunday. Both Ben and Matt had church things to do, and Phil didn't-so, he'd do something he'd been putting off for a while. It was time to investigate that house.

~~~

Buildings, trees, people-they were all blurs, both visually and, in the case of the people, emotionally. Phil was only half paying attention. This excursion into the city...it wasn't doing what he had hoped. Probably because the woman behind him was suffering from undiagnosed clinical depression. She should really go to see someone about that...should I tell her? No. She'd wonder how I could have possibly known something like that. Hell, she might even get mad at me. Another person I have the power to help, but can't. Dammit.
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BurningBright
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After quickly deciding that the bus wasn't the best venue to relieve his stress, Phil got off at the first stop and walked. Where he was walking, he had no idea, but he'd just walk.

He usually tried to avoid the city for just this reason: People. Were. Stupid. By and large, not a single one knew their own emotions as well as Phil did. He passed a young couple-probably several years his younger. He felt what he was sure they thought was love. It wasn't love. Phil had felt real love through others before-what they had was affection at best. Perhaps a bit of lust. But love? No. Another man he passed was angry-he gave Phil a scowl as he passed, probably transferring whatever was pissing him off at that moment onto Phil. It's not my fault, dude. Chill. Phil would stand there and watch as the man walked off. The feeling of anger in Phil started to die off, and just as it was, it was replaced by a cacophony of feelings as a somewhat large crowd of people crossed the street. He wanted to dance, could feel a beat even though he couldn't hear the music; he wanted to cry...something was dead. Someone was excited to get wherever they were going, someone was worried about something, someone was mentally exhausted, someone was horny...every single person, a different emotion, and every emotion fighting for a place in the number one slot.

Phil took a deep breath and walked in the opposite direction of the crowd.

~~~

The grinding of the wheels on the cement, and the ease of skateboarding telekinetically-such things were simple joys to Phil by now. It was easy to feel good today. On a sunny day like this, everyone was outdoors, having fun, playing...coupled with Phil's own joy, he was simply ecstatic. I wonder if any of them can tell that I'm not using my feet to push...naw, they'd be surprised. Nothing but happiness. I'm getting close to that house...wonder what I'll find?

~~~

He found himself at a park. The sky was gray, and one of the swings was creaking in the wind. It was a very creepy setting, but this was one place that he found relaxing. There were only 3 other people here. 2, a boy and a girl, both in high school, most likely, were studying. The girl was in a studying mood. The boy was distracted-Phil had to admit, the girl was definitely pretty. Had he known her, and if he was relatively alone with her in a park on a day like this, and if he were a few years younger, he may have been distracted too. The boy was completely infatuated-it was possible that Phil only felt like he might have been too BECAUSE the boy was infatuated. Maybe it was the boy's feelings making the girl look pretty; regardless, he could tolerate this better than the lovey dovey couple. The girl was neutral-it helped balance out. Of course, it was a bitter sweet balancing. He almost felt sorry for the guy.

At least, he would have, were it not for the third soul here. A little girl, playing alone on the playground. She probably lived nearby, which would explain why her parents weren't near-or maybe the high school teens were "watching" her. Either way, she was simply having too much fun for Phil to feel sorry for anyone-there wasn't room left after all of the fun times. Phil could sit here on that bench forever with those emotions feeding him-this was a good combination.
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BurningBright
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All good things must come to an end, as has been said by some old guy some years ago. And so, when it started to rain, the three left. Turns out, the little girl was likely the sister of one of the high school students. Phil considered following them to hold onto the feeling, but realized how empty that would be and stopped himself. Besides, with the rain came a killing of the little girl's fun, and now the older girl was just upset. That wasn't the combination he was looking for.

He'd put up his hood to guard against the rain and continued to walk, this time leaving the park through the back way, mostly because it was opposite that of the park inhabitants. He found himself in a quiet neighborhood-this wouldn't do. Even if he hated city walking, the whole point was so he could take his mind off of his thoughts. And this place...it looked too similar.

~~~

He was at the house. It felt eerie, but he couldn't figure out why. Why would this house feel weird? There were no strange emotions coming from it like the last ti-That's what it is. There are no emotions. Not even a hint. It's just...dead. Phil struggled to think of the happiness he was experiencing earlier, but it was hard-this place brought up memories, memories of anger, of hatred. And now, it was empty. He had nothing to combat the memories of this place-the memories of earlier were strong, and fresh, but just being here seemed to make Phil remember it perfectly.

The door would unlock itself as Phil approached. Doing that trick was almost second nature to him by now-it was almost like he didn't have to think about doing it.

As he put his hands on the doorknob, he suddenly felt just like the house-empty.

~~~

The light drizzle from before had turned into a downpour. Phil had taken refuge inside of an office building, in addition to many other city goers. This wasn't as unbearable as before. Most of the people here were disappointed in some way or another, most likely because of the rain. The uniformity made it much more tolerable, even if it WAS one of Phil's least liked emotions. There were only a few that were worse. Anger was one of them. It almost made him sick to think that he used to rely on it. Disgusting.
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The storm wouldn't last long. This time of year, storms were thankfully extremely short lived. And so, Phil was soon back on the streets, wandering around, looking for emotions to borrow. It was almost addicting-like a drug. Ha...empathy. Even sort of sounds like it should be a drug name. Phil's face was still smiling til he looked down the alley to his right. There, there was a man, in an old business suit, tying his tie around his arm. That's not what I want to feel right now.

The trashcan next to the man would lose it's lid-and the lid would collide quite hard with the man's head, preventing him from getting his next fix. A quick scan of the man would reveal a small needle on the ground in front of him. Phil mentally sent the needle down the nearest drain. Scum.

~~~

The scene before him was...horrific. There was no other way to even come close to describing it. How could this have gone undiscovered for so long? Phil resisted the urge to vomit-he couldn't get his DNA all over the place. Not here.

There was blood on the walls. Some of it handprints, some of it just splashes of blood. And there was a trail. It led to the bedroom. Judging from the marks on the floor, the victim either crawled-or was dragged.

Every thought in his head was telling him to go back out that front door, to call the police, and pretend he never saw anything. He just couldn't do that though. He had felt the anger here that day. And emotions didn't stick around. He was here when this was happening-he was just outside! And I left.

No. He wouldn't leave this time. He had to see it through to the end. He had to see what he hadn't stopped that day.

Phil made his way down the hallway, following the trail of blood. Well...trails. Another trail was leading from a bedroom to his left out towards the room he was en route to. The door slid open with Phil applying his thoughts to it-he didn't dare touch it.

Immediately, he wished he hadn't opened that door.

~~~

Thunder roared in the distance; even the damned skies seemed upset today. Why the hell not?

Phil had somehow found himself walking through another little neighborhood. This one was similar to the last-but there were people in their homes. Phil had to resist sneaking closer to the houses, and eavesdropping on the feelings of those inside. Most of the emotions he experienced were warm and friendly-a stark contrast to the dreadful day outside.

It was still too familiar though.
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Every sense was on edge-he had felt it. Had he really? Or was it just the memory of an emotion, brought up by how close this place was to the last?

No...no, it was real. He could still feel it. Deafened, as if someone put cotton in his ears, but it was real. It was the same as that day. The exact same. Phil started darting from place to place, retracing his steps when the feeling got weaker, heading towards where it was stronger. He hadn't been able to stop it last time...dammit, it would be different today.

~~~

He sat at home, staring at the news. There was the story, right in front of him. The news lady, reciting what was told to her without any actual recognition of what she was saying. How can she be so damn calm? How can she just ignore what happened?

Quote:
 
who police suspect is responsible for the murders of his wife and daughter. Initial reports say both were stabbed repeatedly before being dragged to the master bedroom and laid on the bed. This is to date one of the most gruesome cases of a double homi-


The tv turned off. Phil couldn't watch anymore. All he could think about was one simple fact. I was there. I could have stopped it.

On the couch next to him-the door handle he used to enter the house. It was the only object in the house he physically touched. For obvious reasons, it needed to be removed. Laying next to it was a picture. A picture of a middle aged man, starting to bald, lovingly holding a blonde woman and a little girl, both of whom should have still been alive today.

~~~

He stood in front of the house. So many things were just like that day. That day he did nothing. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice though. This was the same feeling-that same anger, the same murderous rage he experienced over 2 months ago the day those two died. His first, and, so far greatest failure as a hero.

Never again.

~ Temp Exit for Mission ~
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-REENTRY-

Phil woke up to the sound of dogs barking and men yelling-no doubt searching the woods for the murd-No. Executioner.

He climbed to his feet and looked around, searching for some way to escape-without leaving a scent, there weren't many options. Is this what it comes down to? Fighting cops and dogs?...no. I can do this, I can escape. I just need to do it correctly.

He took a quick check of his inventory-other than the grappling hook, everything was present and accounted for. What would they find on that hook? Fingerprints? After a quick run-through of his memory, Phil was pleased to remember that the grappling hook had gotten the same repetitive polishing treatment as all of their other equipment, courtesy of Ben-and he was always careful about fingerprints. And since Phil hadn't ever actually touched it...he was safe.

However, they would likely find his blood on the man's hands. At the moment, Phil had no easy way to explain that away, but the credibility should drop considerably once he was next able to come into contact with Ali.

~~~

For the next few days, the news would be abuzz about "the most vicious double-homicide in years"-at least in Uptown. The fact that it happened in a peaceful suburb, and that it went unnoticed for days until an anonymous caller tipped the police was even more astounding.

Phil would see it all, and would feel...remorse? Guilt? No...regret. Regret that he hadn't walked in just in time to be the shiny hero. From that day, he swore to never use anger as a power source again...not until he made things right.

~~~

ARE things right? Did killing that man solve anything? His wife and daughter are still dead...is that enough?

Phil had learned a valuable lesson during this fight-to be successful, you couldn't hold back. You couldn't choose to NOT use a weapon just because it upset you.

No...I did right. At least one person is alive now because of my actions who would be dead if I had done nothing. Who knows how many more he has, and would have killed? You did good. But you're not Zaulyl.

In the comics he read, Zaulyl was always merciful, always did the right thing-in the real world, Phil was nothing like him. He wasn't the type to let something be settled in court on circumstantial evidence-not something as important as this, anyways. Zaulyl was calm, patient, thoughtful-Phil was reckless, rash, and impulsive.

Yea...that's who I'll be from now on. I'll be someone else. Impulse. That works.

A text had been sent, summoning Matt to Phil's location. When Matt pulled up to the street Phil designated, Phil emerged from the woods, his bloodied face and knees shocking Matt-and reasonably so. When they had last seen each other, Phil was in pristine health.

Phil got in the car and the pair drove off, Phil watching as dogs came upon his past location-a clean getaway.

-EXIT-
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