Another place. Another time ...

As soon as Betty touched Phaross, she saw a very different devastation before her. A scene so vivid and horrible, she could only look in silence. An alien world, razed to the ground. She could see broken shells of strange buildings. Skeletons of places where these people lived and worked and raised families of their own. So very much like Earth in some respects, but wildly different in others. The home of the Zjahul. The home of Psycona.

She saw through the eyes of Psycona, or, as he was once called here, Peacemaker Zjahn Zjmit. Light from the bulging, red, alien sun burned down upon what she could imagine was once a fertile, vibrant land, but all she could see now was ash, and dust, and craters. And bodies. So many bodies that she couldn't begin to count them. Some lined up in the signs of mass execution, others simply littering the ground. Adults and infants of all ages.

"This is not for your eyes, human!" The voice ripped into her, both Psycona's voice and Phaross' voice. "This is mine to behold alone. Get out of my head!"

"No. No!" She could feel Phaross' mind pushing at hers, fighting to expel her from his, but she fought to remain. "You have to see this again. Everything that has happened to you started here. Face your past. Face it like a hero!"

A hand rested on the shoulder of the body she inhabited. A strange, alien body. More like that of a lizard, or a reptile, and she could sense the differences between them, but also the similarities. The head turned to see Principle, tears trailing down the man's face as he looked out upon the destruction, the bodies. Even Psycona could sense that tide of empathy from the hero was quite genuine.

"Zjahn. I'm so sorry. I blame myself." Principle hovered a bare inch above the ground, wiping his powerful hand across his cheeks. "If I had acted faster to gather the others. If I had pushed Drone to enhance the ship's engines. If I could only ..."

"Stop." The words came from Zjahn's mouth, not from Phaross in the mind. "None of this is your fault. If anything, this is my burden to carry. I thought I could fight them alone and I hesitated before seeking help. You could not have done more, but I could. The blood of billions is upon my hands. The deaths of my family, of my ... my ... child are mine to bear."

"You are but one man, my friend." Principle looked away to the other gathered heroes of Earth and gave a nod. "We will bury your people. Swift and Drone can take care of that. It will only take moments, then, when you are ready, we will chase these destroyers to the ends of the universe and bring them to justice."

Zjahn looked at the hand upon his shoulder and then to a scene that looked magical. A black and white blur passed over the landscape before them and graves appeared, bodies disappearing. The hero, Swift, could move faster than a fraction of a fraction of the blink of an eye. Drone's drone army constructed headstones for each of the graves, though many of the names were unknown, these people deserved markers of their passing.

"No. If I chase them, it will only become a mission of revenge. I feel no justice in my hearts." Zjahn turned his back to the scene below. "I will watch over the graves until the drip of time takes me. A penance for my failure."

As Zjahn moved away, Principle followed. Up ahead, Betty could sense that the former home of Zjahn Zjmit and his family lay, in ruins, as everything else lay. Within Psycona's mind, Betty could sense the memory. That Swift left the bodies of Zjahn's family for him to recover and lay to rest, as a sign of respect. Zjahn had appreciated that.

Once he had placed the last of the sterile dirt upon the bodies of his family, Principle standing beside him in silence, Zjahn had considered what to do. Nothing could grow here, not anymore. His days as guardian to the dead would not last, but he would fall gladly into the night of death beside the graves of the people he loved more than anything and anyone. A lonely death, but he deserved nothing better.

"Come with us. Drone can leave his army of drones to watch over your people. We could always use someone with strength like yours." Principle held out a hand and Zjahn could only look at it. "The Earth faces more and greater threats every day. It would be an honour and a privilege to fight by your side and you would be more than welcome. Serve the memory of your people, your family, by ensuring this never happens again. Please, my friend, do not give up on life."

"Platitudes! Nothing more!" Now Phaross stirred once again, his mind gathering strength. "See how that 'life' became nothing but a yoke about my throat."

-+-

Somewhere in a memory of Faraday City ...

The crowd cheered and whistled, hands reaching out to him, clapping. Voices raised in praise. With one super-villain held captive in each hand, Psycona smiled at the admiration. He lowered himself until he reached the gathered security forces, the 'police', of this city and tossed the villains at their feet. These people, too, looked at him with admiration and respect, taking the villains into custody.

"He's no Principle, that's for sure." A lone voice in the crowd, but Psycona's psychic powers amplified it. "I mean, sure, he got the bad guys, but look what he did to the Union of States building. That's a national monument right there. Busted. And good."

"Yeah, man. He got no respect for the history, yo." Another voice adding weight to the other view. "Principle woulda done it faster, man. And no doubt no buildin' woulda been busted. For real."

Psycona's smile faded as he heard similar voices, similar thoughts ripple through the crowd. They still cheered. Still pretended adoration, but Psycona had soon learned that humans were duplicitous by their very nature. They could do nothing but lie and deceive, saying one thing while meaning, or thinking, another. He had thought he could suffer it, but it grew harder every day. These were not his people, and could never hope to come close to that perfection.

"What did you expect?" Betty had seen and heard enough of this cherry-picked memory. "You believe your people were different? I'm in your mind, I can see your memories and, for all the differences, your people acted so very much like us. You've placed them on an unassailable pedestal. No-one can hope to compare to the utopia you've created in your head. What about this moment?"

Betty forced this change. The scene wavered, faded and then sprang back to sharp contrast. The woman looked up with streaks of tears down her cheeks and her face changed from a mask of loss and fear and horror when she saw what Psycona held in his arms as he came to land. She reached out, taking the baby from him, checking every part of the child, from his toes to his hair, before looking up to Psycona.

"Thank you! Oh, bless you! Bless you!" The woman held the infant as tight to her as she could, but her eyes remained upon Psycona. "I don't have much, but anything you want, anything, and it's yours. The other heroes said I should expect the worst, but you found him. You found my baby. I can never thank you enough."

"Lies! She speaks only what she thinks I wish to hear." Phaross' mind surged and almost expelled Betty from him. "I will not witness these pointless events any longer!"

"They weren't lies and you know it! You read her mind!" Betty tried to hold on to the connection between them. "In that moment, she would have gladly given you her last dollar. And ... yes ... you secretly looked in upon her more than once after that and her love and respect for you never diminished. The only one lying here is you."

Betty struggled to hold on. She had no way of knowing how long Principle could hold the physical body of Phaross as she fought the personality within his own mind. Not only that, but she had an inkling that their psychic abilities were an even match in power. Only, Phaross could fall back on a lifetime of experience to fight this mental battle, whereas she had learned of these powers only hours before. The longer this confrontation lasted, the greater the chance that Phaross would push her from his mind. Or, worse, break her own mind.

She had to change tactics. This wasn't working. Phaross had built up an idea of what had happened in his life, and what people thought of him by twisting the events in his memories. He had created a powerful narrative built up over years and she couldn't deprogram his own brainwashing. She had to find another way, and fast. She needed help.

Now they stood in a darkened room. A room that looked so familiar to Betty, but mirrored to the one she knew well. Empty, save for a laptop upon the breakfast bar of the kitchen. She had never seen inside Sean's apartment and now she could only feel pity for the man. She had sensed his loneliness, but she had no idea. He had nothing. The apartment held nothing personal. Nothing that meant anything. A knock came to the door and, through Sean's eyes, Betty watched him open it.

There stood Betty Burns. A memory of a time when Betty had tried to make friends. The memory of herself tried to glance around the edge of the door, but Sean held it tight. Betty could sense his annoyance at the disturbance and his reticence to speak. He hadn't spoken to anyone in such a long time, not even while acting as Psycona. She could feel Phaross bristle at her sense of pity for him.

"Hi! I'm your new neighbour. Betty. Betty Burns? You might have seen my name in the Daily Bulletin? Reporter." She pointed to herself, rolling her eyes and Betty groaned at her previous actions. She sounded like an idiot. "Don't worry! I'm not writing a story about you. So, anyway, I'm inviting a few neighbours round. You know, just to get to know everyone, and I thought I'd start with my next door buddy. That's you, by the way, mister ...?"

"Not interested." Sean began to turn away, paused, and looked back through the crack of the door. "Thank you?"

He closed the door as silently as he could and stepped away, looking at the projection of his human hands. They were shaking and Betty now realised that the loss of Zjahn's people was not the only problem he faced. He had felt genuine terror at speaking to her former self. Whether because he felt so alone on an alien planet, or because his trauma had caused him to become a recluse, Betty couldn't say, but it was another string that tied up Psycona's personality. Phaross' sense of betrayal.

"You did that to yourself. I know you tried to read my mind, but couldn't. That both terrified and intrigued you. The silence felt ... comforting." Realisation dawned. "Oh! That's it, isn't it? Your people could control their thoughts. They had to! A species of psychics could do nothing but control every thought. Humans don't have that. It must be overwhelming for you."

"Do not pity me!" Phaross exuded bravado, but Betty sensed a crack in his mental façade, though not in his attempts to expel her. "I have suffered the cacophony for decades. It is there, all the time, the buzzing of gnats. Ah, but I see now that a door, once opened, can be passed through both ways. Let us see what you are hiding."

Too late, Betty realised she had left herself vulnerable and cursed the fact that she had not had the time to learn how to use her abilities. Her mind called out for help, but no-one could come. Phaross had found a crack and now widened it into a chasm and, unlike her, he did not step lightly. He marched into her mind like a conquering army.