As the sun slowly began to rise, Cadell still hadn't come to grips with what he believed to be nothing short of a failure. The crimson sky gradually diluted in colour, a sign that the curse was ebbing away.

Arms folded, the superhero sat on a bench in a park with his mask off. Hazel sat beside him on the verge of dozing off and was clearly clinging onto consciousness by sheer willpower. Her eyes closed every few seconds before sharply widening

Cadell had to admit-- she was impressive. Her uncanny fighting instinct and abnormal physical ability was like something from a movie. What she was capable of wasn’t something that could be taught and what was even more strange was that she had no background in self defence or gymnastics or any of the sort. Apparently, she was simply a worker who decided to fight crime after losing her parents, which didn’t make any sense, at least not when she was still alive. He felt like there were numerous holes in her vigilante origin story. Where was the training arc? Who was the mentor?

A distant scream could be heard above them. The sound rapidly increased in volume until a body dropped into a portal which materialised just in time.

“Thanks for saving me,” Cadell said, tilting his head back to look at the sky.

“You’re welcome,” Hazel replied, breathing heavily. “It’s an honour. Honestly, I’m living the dream. I should be thanking you.”

This is your idea of living the dream?

The distant scream could be heard again though neither vigilante reacted to it. Obviously, the source was another criminal. The last one for the night. Again, his body dropped into a portal which materialised just in time.

“You never answered my question from before,” Hazel said. “Am I part of the team now?”

Cadell made a lazy gesture with his hand, squinting at the sky. “Do what you want. You’re not a child. If that’s how you want to live, who am I to stop you?”

“So is that a yes?”

Cadell thought about the question long and hard, so long that the skydiver victim had dropped into the portal another three times.

“It is. But only on three conditions. Number one, Hazel Montebello can’t exist anymore. You must detach yourself from every single aspect of your old identity. There’s no living two lives. Number two, the mask is a disgrace. You must change your costume design. Number three, and this one is super important, do not be annoying. Let me repeat that for emphasis. Do not be annoying.”

Hazel turned to look at him. “But I like this mask.”

Cadell shot her a piercing stare.

“Alright, alright. How do I stop being annoying?

“That’s a good question. You’ll have to figure that one out but I’d recommend not talking. That really helps.”

“Yes, sir, Psycho sir. How do I contact you?”

Cadell sighed. “Stop calling me that. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry.”

“Just call me Cadell or Cad or Psycho. At 7pm tomorrow, stand in the middle of your living room and you will fall into a portal. We’ll discuss more later.”

“Okay. Um, Cad?”

“Yes.”

“I know you can conquer the knife phobia. You can do it.”

Hazell slumped to one side against Cadell’s shoulder. She was already asleep.

Cadell’s journal.

Journal, my friend. I haven’t used you in a while. Have you missed me? Have you missed my pitiful sulking?

Well, you’re not in luck! That’s not what this is. Kind of. I don’t know.

Before Hazel left, I found myself chuckling with the Voice and the funny thing is, there wasn’t really a joke. Just a realisation.

It’s fun to interact with others.

I’ve spent thousands of hours in isolation-- god knows how long in Dimension zero-- trapped in my own little bubble. Occasionally, I’ll chat to my good old buddy Elijah but those moments are few.

Dr Lunetta always reminds me that it’s okay to allow myself to be happy despite my past. Maya said something similar. So I guess this is good.

When I first started cleansing crime, when self-loathing was at its highest, I used to fantasize a lot about how I would die. Stabbing was the preference. I wanted the murder to be gory and brutal, worse than you could possibly imagine. Worse than my own crime of course. I wanted my body to be left in such a despicable state that policemen would vomit at the crime scene. I’d focus on every detail. What limbs would be slashed? What organs would be removed? How many stab wounds? How much blood?

Thinking about that now, it leaves me pale. I’ve changed so much over the years.

I guess it’s hard to hate yourself for a long time.

Okay. Random thoughts, random thoughts.

Back to work.