At the edge of the crater ...

These were once office buildings, with the odd, expensive apartment complex in the mix. Betty stumbled to the top of the rubble and tried not to think about how many people had died here, or remained trapped beneath tons of concrete, steel and shattered glass. She had visited war zones, areas where natural disasters had devastated the land, and had seen the aftermath of numerous battles between supers, but she had never seen anything like this.

And, in the centre of the deep crater, she saw Principle. On all fours, the hero looked wracked with pain as the evil aspect of Psycona, Phaross, hovered above, like a vengeful god laying down apocalyptic judgement. He had changed again. He looked bigger even than before, and far more monstrous, green flames surrounding him like an aura of spite.

Beside her, the human aspect of the former-hero, Sean Smith, struggled to reach the crest. So odd that, even though Sean only looked real, being a projection from Phaross' mind, he still acted much like a human. As though Phaross had given the illusion a sense of self. Or had separated that part of himself entirely from the whole.

Then, slowly, interminably slow, Phaross turned in the air to face her and Sean and the grin upon the savage features widened even further. His teeth had become fangs, extending his jaw. The helmet had become horned, glistening in the fires that surrounded him and Principle. He said nothing for long moments before emitting a terrible, keening laugh that echoed around the crater.

"Here she is! The architect of Psycona's downfall." Phaross swept his hand to indicate the destruction around them. "Let us, the mighty, look upon your works and despair."

Betty's legs had turned to jelly. Before now she had felt a determination that always came with following a story. That drive to eke out every last drop of information, the last ounce of evidence, to ensure her reports told the world what it needed to know, but now she could not move. Every muscle in her body trembled, screaming at her to run, to hide, because she knew, deep in her soul, that this alien before her could kill her with a glance and would think nothing of it.

It was all there, in his mind. The turmoil. The aspects of his personality warring with each other, but Phaross remained in ascendence, squashing all the others into insignificance. Psycona screamed for freedom in his own mind. Zjahn Zjmit accepted his mental incarceration as a penance. The only aspect missing from Phaross' mind stood beside her and he must have a reason for excising that part of his personality.

"You must stop this!" Sean stepped forward, gaining the courage from somewhere. "We must become one again! We are diminished when we are apart!"

"Diminished? Look at me!" Phaross rose higher in the air, the flames about his body burning brighter and hotter than before and Betty could feel the heat from here. "Without you wittering in my ear, I have become what I should always have been. A god among creatures that are little more than bacteria infesting this planet. You, my pathetic, human, friend are inconsequential. It is you that lessened me. You!"

How? Betty reached out with her newfound powers and searched Phaross' mind, trying to find the reason for this self-hatred, but it was not there. She looked at Sean beside her and knew that what she needed to know lay within that illusion's mind, but that mind did not exist. Sean remained only a thought projection, cut off from the whole.

At the epicentre of the crater, Principle howled in pain. Betty had seen so much footage of the great man's feats, but she had never heard him make a sound like it and, after a fashion, that made her respect him all the more. Even though he suffered, she could still see him trying to stand, trying to gather his powers and launch an attack against Phaross. Principle was dying and still forced himself onward and, if he could do it, so could she. She stepped down into the crater.

"So, what's your story, Phaross?" Another step. She couldn't say her confidence rose with each step, but she continued anyway. "Talk to me. Tell me what's driving you right now. It'll be the biggest interview ever to see print. The whole world will know what you want, what you want them to know."

Her hands fumbled with the purse she held in a steely grip. The strap had broken, it was dirty and wet and torn, but it still held her cell phone. Forcing her fingers to work, she withdrew the phone and tapped the screen, bringing up the voice recorder, and held it out toward Phaross. If she could keep him talking long enough, perhaps Principle could recover. He would, wouldn't he? Didn't he always?

"The biggest interview? Bigger than any of his?" Phaross reached out a gauntleted hand and telekinetically lifted Principle from the ground, the hero's legs thrashing ineffectually. "Tempting, but I think I'll just kill you. Why do I need an interview when the whole world can see my actions?"

He looked up and Betty followed his eyes. High above, she could see helicopters in the sky, flitting above the trails of smoke that rose from several areas of the ruined city. News choppers, military helicopters. They circled the scene like flies around a corpse. Impotent to do anything against such unfettered power. Up there, cameras pointed down toward them, and Phaross smiled up at them, drinking in the ... adulation? That thought crossed his mind then. He wanted recognition. He wanted them to see him.

"Those are just ... just pictures. They don't say anything about you." More steps forward and she sensed Sean at her side. Was it brave for an illusion to come this close to Phaross? "With an interview you can be as descriptive as you want. A movie only gives you a snapshot of the contents of a book, after all."

Phaross' blazing eyes narrowed and he regarded her, watching her make tentative step after tentative step. In his mind, he considered it. Flashes of thoughts came from him, memories escaping like the drips from a faucet in need of repair. Intermittent glimpses of his own world, of his life there, of the way they regarded him. Countered by visions of this world, where he had no-one, sitting in his empty apartment as news of his exploits fell from page one, to little corners under the want ads. So alone. So very, very alone.

Something caught hold of her and her hand flashed out in reflex, grabbing on to the first thing she touched and she felt Sean's fingers interlocking with hers. Phaross had her in his mental grip, lifting her from the ground and holding her in the air, beyond arm's reach, before him. With a casual thought, he sent Principle tumbling through the air and the hero fell against broken concrete and steel rebars, unmoving. Most likely dead.

"You think me a fool?" That Phaross spoke those words so low made them sound all the more sinister. He tilted his head. "I expected better of you."

"Stop!" Sean, still by her side, somehow, hovering beside Betty. "Leave her alone, or I'll ..."

"Do nothing. I give and I take away, as all gods are wont to do." Phaross' hand waved, dismissively, and Betty started to feel Sean's grip loosen. "You are but a vestigial part of me and I excise it from my world."

In the mental grip of Phaross, Betty managed to turn her head to the side and looked on in horror as Sean unravelled before her eyes. She fought against Phaross' hold upon her, his control, reaching out with her mind and trying to save the last essence of humanity that remained of the man that was once Faraday City's hero. She couldn't let that part of Phaross, of Psycona, die. She couldn't.

In the final moment, Sean turned his own gaze toward her and smiled. The illusion squeezed her hand once and then faded away like smoke upon the wind and now Betty faced Phaross alone. Principle still hadn't moved and, even though she reached out to his mind, she felt nothing there. Whether because he had, truly, died, or because he had an innate ability to protect himself from psychic probing, Betty could not say for certain.

"You didn't have to do that. He was a part of you and, no matter what you say, every part of you that you remove, that you suppress inside your own mind, can only lessen you." That was probably not the best thing to say and Betty felt invisible fingers constricting around her throat. "You need to face yourself or you will never feel whole!"

"Is that what you thought you were going to do? With your sad little powers? You look inside my mind and think you know anything about me? My mind! I am the most powerful psychic on this planet! Me!" The grip upon Betty's throat loosened Phaross relented. "I am also the most powerful telekinetic on this planet. Did you actually think I would allow you close enough to touch me? What? You didn't think I was listening to every part of your mundane conversations with him?"

"Not him. You! He was you. You are him! You are him and Psycona and Zjahn Zjmit, Peacemaker of the Zjahul. You are the hero, and the officer of the law and you are that little human that hid in his apartment, cowering away from a confusing, far-too loud world." All these things she had read in his mind, but now she could read nothing, as though Phaross had closed a door. "All I wanted to do is talk. Just talk. Tell me why you have done all this. You aren't cruel. The man I saw inside your mind would never have done this. Tell me. Why?"

For a tiny fraction of a moment, it looked as though Phaross listened to her. His grotesque, twisted mouth opened and closed, the blazing green eyes flickering from side-to-side. She almost had him. If she could get him to stand down, to stop fighting, she knew she could persuade him to allow her to heal his broken mind. A touch. All she needed. Reintegrate the disparate elements of his mind back into one being.

It wouldn't be the solution to Phaross' problems, he would still need help to come back from this, and he would have to face justice for his actions, but, for now, she could help him to start the healing process. Betty tried to catch his flaming eyes, to connect with the hero that lay within. He was almost there. Betty could feel the psychic bonds loosening and she dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch. He still held her away from him with his mind and, as she began to think this might all come to an end, he turned his fiery gaze to her.

"No. No. I'm afraid it's far too late for that. What a god begins, a god must complete." He sounded saddened. Genuine. "I'm sorry, Betty."

A shadow fell across her, blocking out the flashing searchlights of the circling helicopters that she hadn't even noticed raking across them. Betty looked up to see a large slab of concrete floating above her. Phaross hadn't released her because she had reached him. He had released her to kill her. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to see if telekinetics were a part of her newfound powers, but they were not, and kept those eyes clamped closed in anticipation of what came next.

The sound of the concrete dropping to the ground forced Betty to open her eyes once again, coughing as an ash-filled dust cloud erupted around her. Had Phaross relented? Had Psycona won back control? As the dust became caught in the wind, she saw something through the haze and couldn't believe her eyes. It was impossible.

"I hear you need to touch him to help him, Ms Burns?" Principle held Phaross, his powerful arms wrapped under Phaross' armpits, fingers locked behind his head. "May I suggest you do so? I may not have much longer."

Principle had found a way. As he always did.