YEP TOTALLY REWRITING THIS CUZ I WASN'T SATISFIED WITH THE FIRST VERSION! I feel you all deserve better than lousy writing, so let me make it up to you with something good. I'll be doing the same with Recovery, so look out for that! ;D

Number 96 Black Mist walked through the town he knew so well to the edge of town for some time alone. Thus far, he's been left alone quite a lot, but the Number gangs who fought outside of his home were getting too loud, and he just needed some silence.

Even still, he could hear their fighting. As much as he wanted to rip them to shreds and show everyone he was the true boss of the town, his conscience wouldn't allow it. For some reason, he kept thinking Hope would be mad and disappointed. He's never thought anyone would be disappointed himself, so he generally didn't care what he did when he did it, but he did seem to care about this.

So he kept tame. But that was hard to do at 450 years old, still a teenager, almost an adult. The urge to make everyone's life miserable was so tempting. One part of him was glad that the image of Hope's disappointment kept him in line while other Dark Numbers went wild and made everyone around them suffer, but another part of him despised Hope for it. He wanted to make people fear him. He wanted to show everyone who was boss instead of seeming like the most harmless Number in the town. 

But he kept tame.

That was why he had to go outside of the town limits for a few hours every week. Everyone in the town was so pumped up, wrecking what they could that was part of the enemy's turf. He needed some time to calm down after feeling the rage build up inside of him. It didn't help that the voice in his head started to keep quiet. It was a gradual decline of conversation, and before he knew it, the voice only talked to him when he had something important to say. It was driving the Number mad. 

"Hey, you there?" Black Mist muttered, hoping the voice would reply.

"Hmm?" The one responding seemed distracted. "What is it, Black Mist?"

"I'm going mad here. Keep me entertained."

The voice chuckled. "Oh, you're funny. I'm far too busy to keep you entertained, but right now, I can keep you company. Tell me, what made you want to call me?"

"I just told you. I'm going mad with training and watching everyone fight for their useless gangs."

"Then why don't you join one of the gangs?"

"You kidding me? I don't care about them. Plus, Papa wouldn't approve."

"Oh? Is Hope here?"

Black Mist felt his face flush a little. "W-well, no..."

"Then you can do as you please." 

"But the orphanage is just over the hill! I can't bring myself to do something with Papa living so close!!"

The voice chuckled. "Sounds like Hope's influenced you even when you weren't living with him. Well, it's your choice, ultimately. Do what you wish. Make your own decisions."

And just like that, the voice was gone. Black Mist tried calling it back, but it didn't respond. Frustrated, he stayed outside of the town for a few more hours before going back into the run-down place he called home. Some Numbers made threats, but he paid them no mind. Everyone here knew words were null and void and that actions were the way to make someone pay attention. Those that only shouted were cowards.

He was soon safely back at his home, a two story that seemed to be impossible to enter. The windows were strongly sealed shut, the door was sealed and locked with a lock that was hard to pick (and it was reinforced by various sheets of metal by Black Mist himself), and the only entrance seemed to be a small hole that even Black Mist wouldn't have been able to fit into had he not adapted to stealth. It was a tight squeeze, but Mist managed to wriggle into the hole.

The inside of his house was a lot cleaner now than when he first moved in. Not spotless by any means, but much cleaner. Much of the dust that once coated the floor was now gone, and he managed to steal some carpet for the floor to make things more homely. He had a few living chairs and a sofa that he found and brought over with the help of his Shadow Creatures, and the walls were painted a soft purple. He took a look around his living room before going into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

Once he prepared his lunch, he sat on the sofa and ate, thinking deeply about the orphanage. What were they doing? Was Hope still around? He had to be at least 800 years old when he took Mist in, so he had to be dead by now, right? Or did he somehow find a way to live past the deadly age of 1000?

A longing to see his old home became too powerful to ignore. He wanted to see Hope, the orphanage, and the children. He wanted to know how everyone was and how the building had evolved. Hope had a habit of taking in any helpless child he found in the Number Realm. That was how he was rescued from nearly dying at the edge of a forest.

I should go see him, Black Mist thought to himself, finishing his meal. I don't know how the kids are going to react, but I don't care.

With that set in his mind, Black Mist washed his plate, wriggled out of the hole at the bottom of the wall, and headed out of the city.