The psychic battle continues ...

Betty remembered this, but not like this. Her mother, holding her hand, leading her to a dark, rundown part of town. The kind of place that held the lowest of society, even here in small-town Iowa. At the time, it had seemed like another day out, but it held a far more sinister edge as she saw through the eyes of herself as a child. Her mother rapping upon a familiar door. A far-too familiar door, but not from back then. From a far more recent encounter. The door of Madame Misstery's shop.

Confusion plagued Betty. That shop wasn't in that small town, it was in the deprived area of Faraday City. How can the shop, looking exactly the same, squeaking, paint-peeling sign and everything, be here, in her hometown? After a few seconds, the door opened and there stood Madame Misstery, who looked down at Betty and smiled. The young Madame Misstery, all in black and so very tall as Betty looked up at her.

"Hello again, Betty." Madame Misstery cupped Betty's cheek. "For the first time."

Led into the normal, if dishevelled room beyond the door, Betty's mother accepted the offered seat, gathering Betty to her, her arms circling her, protecting her. Madame Misstery placed a ready-made cup of tea upon the table and folded herself into the chair opposite. Betty now remembered how her own little fingers had played with those of her mother, blissfully unaware of why they were there.

"It started a few months ago." Without any preamble, Betty's mother began to talk, her words tumbling from her mouth. "Little things, like knowing I was about to call her for dinner. Then it grew worse. She started to talk about things only Mike and myself had spoken about. About things that other people would obviously want to be kept secret. People have started to avoid her."

"I see." Madame Misstery didn't look at Betty's mother. Not once. The entire time her eyes remained locked upon the child Betty. "And then ...?"

"At the mall, the other day, she became lost. I was ... I ... I couldn't find her." Betty felt her mother's hand move, smoothing down her hair. "She was found in a field, almost a mile away, screaming that it was all too loud. That she couldn't stop it. The thoughts of everybody. They say you can help. They say you can cure her."

"Do 'they'?" Madame Misstery sat forward, looking deep into Betty's eyes. "She isn't ill. She can't be 'cured', or 'made better'. This is who she is. But, it's a little early for her. I can suppress it, for a time and, when she needs it the most, I shall unlock it. Then her real trial will begin."

"Will it stop the ... the episodes?" Her mother kissed Betty's hair. "Will she be normal?"

"Never. 'Normal' is a societal construct. But she will be free of the burden. For a while." Once again, Madame Misstery cupped Betty's cheek. No. She placed her hand on Betty's head. "One day, she will save the world. And, when she needs it, I will be there. For now, Betty, sleep, and awake."

-+-

In another mind ...

Phaross had never fought against a mind so powerful. Even now, this human probed and filtered through his mind as he attacked hers. A human! Even the most powerful minds of his own people had fallen before the might and skill of Zjahn Zjmit. He had never failed in a contest of wills and he would not fail now. He redoubled his efforts even as he felt his mind slip into another memory. Another time.

The gathering of people had bothered him. So many unsuppressed thoughts in such close proximity, and the one mote of silence among them by his side. He had felt the human awkwardness of the situation as the human woman had led him through the mingling crowd and he could hear the dismissive thoughts of them all.

They couldn't understand why he, as Sean Smith, accompanied Betty Burns, rising star of a reporter that could have commanded any number of eligible bachelors to stand by her side. They thought of her looks, how she was far more attractive than the man at her side. They considered that he must have a great deal of money, disparaging both himself and Betty, and that had angered him.

And then he had appeared. Wade Tompkins. So tall, and as good-looking as he thought he was. Muscular. Confident. His hand had tried to squeeze Seans, but it made little impression and Sean had heard the consideration that he, Sean, was stronger than he looked. His voice, oozing with contempt. His eyes, leering at Betty, but his thoughts had stoked a fury within Sean. Vulgar thoughts. But, as the scene replayed, that was not what angered Sean the most.

Wade had known, with a certainty, that Betty would leave the Oakmont with him. He knew that Betty would abandon Sean and she would fall into Wade's arms willingly. Sean had bristled in such a human fashion. The emotion of jealousy wracking his body and mind. If only Sean could show even his heroic persona. The braggart would see that he was not the one Betty would leave with.

"Do you see?" That woman's voice had begun to annoy Phaross. As though she knew him. "Jealousy, of Wade and of Principle's popularity. A human emotion. Loneliness. A human emotion. Loss. A human emotion. And love ... love is among the most powerful of emotions humans have. Your people expressed their love differently, but it was the same on the inside. Oh, and guilt. So much guilt it pains even me. Do you feel it? Do you feel the guilt that Sean felt as you appeared for the first time? Do you feel the guilt that Psycona feels in this moment as he sees through your eyes at what you have done?"

"You cannot defeat me, woman!" Phaross gathered every ounce of his psychic energies, sending them out in a wave, crumbling the memory to dust. "No one woman, or man, can stand against me alone!"

"But I'm not alone." The scene had changed to something far more recent.

He now saw himself, locked in a physical test of strength within the pit of flame and ash of his making. Principle, that charlatan of a 'hero' holding him in a grip he struggled against. The woman, her hand pressed against his forehead, her eyes closed. But that wasn't all he saw. They were the physical bodies. Now, as he looked down upon himself, he saw that he had manifested psychically outside his own body. And he was not alone.

-+-

In the psychic plane and the real world ...

Betty could feel herself beginning to wilt and weaken. This had all come to her so recent, she had no understanding the toll it took upon her. She felt as though she hadn't slept in days and, to her horror, Phaross appeared to have reserves of strength he had not revealed until now. She had thought she had some control, but, as the trip into her own memories proved, Phaross had taken the greater steps. She couldn't do this alone. She needed help and she knew exactly where to find it.

As she and Phaross emerged from their own memories, she had clung to some of it, dragging them along with her and she appeared above the real forms of herself and Phaross. But, whereas Phaross faced her alone, she had, somehow, brought along company. Allies. She turned her head to both sides and smiled at the representations of those she had seen in Phaross' mind.

To one side, she saw the Peacemaker. The proud warrior of a dead race. Zjahn Zjmit didn't look fearsome, nor scary, as she would have expected of a reptilian, or lizard, creature. He looked like a saddened, broken, but determined figure of an alien being. To the other side, she had brought the heroic persona that had saved a child when others had given up hope. Psycona's cape rippled, though no wind could move a mental projection.

Another figure had joined them, but this figure faded in and out of view. The memory of Principle, from his deeply felt sadness at Zjahn's loss. Or not. He looked like both versions. The Principle from long ago on a dead planet, and the one below, weary, pained, about ready to collapse. Even so, he looked to her and gave her the kind of encouraging smile that could motivate anyone. He didn't take over, as he should as the world's premier hero, but deferred to her.

"It's time to face yourself, Phaross." A pounding headache now battered at her mind, Phaross continuing his psychic attacks. "It's time to remember who you truly are."

It was the only strategy remaining to her. She couldn't fight against him psychically, or physically. She had to use what she had learned through years of talking, of performing interviews, of seeing every aspect of humanity and, for all his bluster, for all his alienness, Phaross had a great deal of humanity within him, no matter how much that persona may hate and detest it.

"I do not need to face anything, human." Phaross pointed a gloved hand toward her, palm upward, fingers closing into a fist. "I can sense it. I am crushing your will. Stripping you of every defence. Soon, I shall tear your mind apart and be done with this passing inconvenience. These ... weak remnants of my past mean nothing."

"I believe they mean everything, old friend." Principle floated forward. Even in non-corporeal form, he looked every bit the hero. He held out a hand. "I remember a man that swore that he would never allow a planet to suffer as his had. That man is still there. He needs only to take my hand and we'll work through this. Together."

"I know how much of a struggle it is to live here without people seeing me. I am there, but they see only what I allow them to." Psycona now pleaded with an open hand. "That woman, the one whose child we saved? She didn't care what I looked like. She only knew that I had saved her child. Had I approached her as our true self, she would have loved us no less. That has always been our problem here on Earth. We never trusted them."

"And why should we?" Betty's head snapped around to Zjahn, wondering where the alien intended going with this. "Look at them! Look at their society! They do not accept each other, let alone someone that looks like us. They hate based upon how someone looks, or how they present themselves, or due to who they love. Actions and words mean less. But, they also come together in communities. They also embrace differences. They also love as powerfully as any race we have ever encountered and see nothing wrong in expressing that love. We have learned much from them. Good and bad. I have become a better man because of them. Until you."

Phaross' eyes moved from Principle, to Psycona, to Zjahn, his mouth opening and closing. He shook his head, and, beneath that ever-evolving helmet, Betty felt certain she could see the creases of a frown. She began to wonder whether this could actually work, that she could bring Psycona back and banish Phaross to the very deepest recesses of the hero's mind. He had not expected such heartfelt thoughts coming from his former selves. He had pushed them down and ignored them for too long.

"Oh. Oh, dear." Principle wavered, becoming pale and indistinct. His hand reached toward his etherial chest before looking toward Betty. "I think this is it. All I have left. I'm sorry, Ms Burns. I'm so sor ..."

As the projection of Principle faded into nothingness, the real Principle below released his hold upon Phaross, falling backward like a felled giant sequoia toppling to the ground. He fell, sending a cloud of ash and dust rippling out from his body and lay there, unmoving. Betty wasn't even certain he still breathed. And, in that exact moment, she wasn't certain she could survive this, especially when the real Phaross' began to move, despite having his mind occupied elsewhere.

The villain's gloved hand twitched and then began to move. As though in slow motion, the hand began to lower from where Principle had held him in his super-powered grip. Lower and lower and the projection of Phaross began to widen his malevolent grin. The hand reached Betty's throat, the real Betty, began to squeeze and Betty felt herself struggle to breathe immediately.

"As one falls, another must rise to take his place." Another voice appeared, but Betty could see no projection of the voice's owner. "Hello again, Betty. Sorry I'm late."

Madame Misstery's voice tickled at Betty's ear and she began to think that she still stood a chance against the might of Phaross.