Above Faraday City ...

Zjahn couldn't say why he did it. Why he had an uncharacteristic need to explain himself to a human, but, as he carried them aloft, high above the streets, he watched her reaction. This human was different. Not only in the fact that he could not read her thoughts, her intentions, her hopes, her fears, but because ... he struggled to find the reason. She was different. For now, at least, that mattered.

He carried them both above the city until they reached the building owned by the Daily Bulletin. A place where he hoped she would feel safe and not in any danger. For a human creation, the Daily Bulletin building had an impressive façade. Not the tallest building in Faraday City, that honour belonged to the twin towers that housed the Faraday City divisions of Skein Enterprises in the North Tower, and Miller International in the South Tower.

Built in the Thirties, the Daily Bulletin building reached heavenward with an Art Deco flourish. Clean, sweeping lines. Built to last, and it had, weathering super-villain attacks and alien invasions alike, among other incidents. Around the top, before reaching the plethora of radio masts that gave it a little extra height, an observation deck circled the roof. There, Zjahn brought them both down to a gentle landing. Betty's legs didn't even wobble as they touched a solid surface once more.

"You know, I parked my car back at the Aurora Labs building?" Betty moved to the safety barrier, peering over the parapet to the streets far below. "Never mind. If I get a ticket, I'm blaming you."

"Very well." Zjahn wondered whether he should return her once they had finished speaking. "I shall ..."

"Forget about it." She shrugged, checking her cell phone and then held it out toward him. "You clearly have something to say and this is on the record. Just so you know."

Zjahn stared at the device in her hand. He could damage it with ease, if he chose to. A little telekinetic push and a wire would dislodge. A build-up of electromagnetic energy within the battery could burn out the cells, rendering it useless. Principle enjoyed this kind of intimate interview. He had allowed many over the years, but Zjahn had never seen the point.

As he hesitated, he could see the stiffness in Betty's features. So unlike the smile she had worn at the Oakmont Hotel, before the disastrous first appearance of Phaross. How could he possibly explain that to her? That he had grown weary of fighting the same villains? That he thought himself unappreciated? Unwanted? Un ... loved? He scowled at that thought, though the human projection showed none of that.

"I am uncertain how to proceed." His cape whipped about him in the wind atop the building and he gathered it up over his arm. "The incident at ..."

"The thing is, Mr Psycona, you turn up to fight Compaktor, a low-level villain who has never intentionally harmed anyone. In fact, most speculate that Compaktor is a deeply troubled individual that has severe psychological problems, and, today, you beat the man senseless." She accused him. Her eyes bored into his and Zjahn could see fury behind a face she held taut and emotionless. "Yet, last night, a new villain emerged, a powerful one from what I could see, who specifically called you out. And you were ... nowhere. No sightings. No emergencies. No alien incursions. Nowhere. Can you explain that?"

"Ms Burns, I cannot save everybody." Even as powerful as he was, that was quite truthful, though the human could not detect a lie if she tried. "Sometimes I am unable to ..."

"Is it true that you are an alien and that you hide your true face from us all?" Betty stepped forward, lifting the cell phone closer to Zjahn's face. "On more than one occasion, eyewitnesses state that you 'wobbled' and a monster is revealed. Why do you hide your true self and how can you expect us to trust you when you refuse to trust us with the truth?"

"I ... I ..." Zjahn stepped back from the tiny human.

He had noticed only the one time his illusions had shimmered due to overextending his abilities. With his incredible mind, he searched through his memories for other incidents where his control had wavered enough to break the illusion of his superhero persona, but he could think of none. He prided himself over the control he held over his powers. One of the most accomplished Peacemakers of the Zjahul. To think he could not know he had lost ultimate control was unthinkable.

And yet, she knew. Perhaps she only speculated, had made an assumption due to his reticence to integrate with humans? He couldn't say, but it seemed a little too specific for a simple testing question. This concerned Zjahn, as well it should. To lose control once, in the midst of stretching his powers to their limits, he could forgive. For it to happen at other times, under less stressful situations, he could not.

"She knows too much." Phaross! He stood behind the human woman, towering above her, blazing eyes of fire peering down at her, but she appeared oblivious. "A simple twist ... and she would trouble you no longer."

Phaross held his hand like a claw and twisted it at the wrist. As he did so, Betty's head mirrored the twist, her neck snapping, and she crumpled to the roof. Zjahn did not enjoy showing emotion, but his wail of despair cut through the windswept air atop the building and he fell to his knees beside the corpse of the reporter, his neighbour.

"How could you? They are under my protection!" The illusion of his superhero persona fell away, leaving only his alien visage revealed as he lifted Betty's head into a clawed hand. "It is my duty."

"A duty to a long-dead world, not to these filthy parasites!" Now Phaross loomed above Zjahn, growing in height until he dwarfed the Daily Bulletin building. "They are nothing to us but a disease upon this planet. Wipe them out and let the other creatures flourish in their stead!"

"I made an oath! A pact that I would not let what happened to Zjahul happen to anyone else." Zjahn laid Betty's head back upon the roof and rose to his feet, fists clenched. "I will not allow a creation of my own mind change that! I will not!"

Zjahn gathered his strength, ready to blast the beast of his own making. He had wanted to create an enemy, a nemesis to show this world how much they needed him, but it had become corrupted. Once he had dealt with this vile illusion born of his ego, he would take himself into seclusion. Perhaps even seek help from other supers with abilities that may bring him back from the brink of this madness.

Energies began to gather around him. All his psychic powers building up, combining, ready to wreak devastation upon the illusion of Phaross. Zjahn could not allow this atrocity to go unpunished. His illusion had taken on a life of its own, and Zjahn would put an end to it! And Phaross laughed. His laughter shook the foundations of the building, tore clouds from the sky, sent ripples of energy rolling out from him. Zjahn had one chance. One opportunity, and ...

"Is it? Is it true?" The woman frowned up at him, an eyebrow raising as she glanced over her shoulder before turning back, looking even more confused. "Am I boring you? Do you think you don't need positive reactions from the people you purport to protect? You brought me here. You asked to speak with me. Speak!"

"I'm ... I'm sorry, Ms Burns." Zjahn stepped around Betty, avoiding her eyes and releasing his cape. "A landslide, in Nepal. I must ... I ... I'm sorry."

He lifted himself from the roof of the building and, once clear of the city's skyline, boosted himself to his maximum flight speed. It had looked so real and only now did he consider what it must feel like for others when he created illusions around them. He had not lied about the landslide, but the Asian hero, Senshi, had already arrived. Zjahn needed to get away.

The vision of Betty lying dead had done something Zjahn had never experienced before about any human. He had felt profound loss and grief.

-+-

Meanwhile ...

Betty watched Psycona fly away, the sonic boom coming soon after he disappeared. Something very odd had occurred here. For a moment, it looked as though Psycona had suffered some kind of crippling loss. Though she had seen no tears, she had seen faces fall like that before. When informed of the death of someone a person cared about. In her line of work, she had seen such faces many times over the years.

And why had he stared behind her for so long? A mixture of fear and fury etched upon his face. A face that, for the life of her, she could not describe. She had seen Psycona before. Had come close enough to see every line upon his face, but she could never describe what he looked like. Only now, after standing so close, did she realise that. It felt as though the very idea of Psycona having a face was a ridiculous prospect. That only lent credibility to those rumours. Rumours that Psycona had not answered.

Racing down the stairs, she burst into the bullpen, pushing several people out of the way to reach her desk. She had nothing against Psycona. He seemed to want to do the whole 'hero' thing, but her questions remained and deadlines always loomed. Papers didn't sell with feel-good stories. No-one wanted to hear about the good things happening in the city, the world. Readers wanted sensationalism. They wanted excess. They wanted juicy gossip. Not the best traits of humanity, sure, but it sold papers and that was her job.

Her fingers hammered at the laptop keys a little harder than necessary, as she made another search. A search about illusions. Shape changers. About psychic powers. Psycona. That name wasn't chosen at random and many of his powers could have psychic origins. If Psycona did, in fact, hide what he truly looked like, then either shape-changing, or psychic powers were the answer and she needed to find out how to see the man, or the beast, behind the mask.

It wasn't personal, it was work. Yet, as she read about the latest in psychic research, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering, returning to that moment upon the roof where a spell appeared broken and a look of absolute relief had crossed Psycona's face. As though he had just seen a loved one after a long, long time away from each other.

-+-

Nepal - 150 miles North-West of Kathmandu ...

As it turned out, Psycona found that they did require his help in Nepal. Senshi had many strengths, had shown time-and-time-again that she was a true hero of great potential, but her powers amounted, mostly, to flight and kicking and punching things. Her strength, though greater than a normal human, could not serve to find those trapped under the rubble.

Psycona could. He could sense them all. The child huddled in a crevice, safe even should the rubble shift. The couple who had refused to leave each others' side, hands still clasped as they both fought for breath. Digging out them, and the others, required a more delicate touch that Senshi, 'Fighter', could not provide.

These people did not seem to know him. None accused him of anything. In fact, he felt a strange, welcome silence here as he used his powers to move each teetering boulder after another. It gave him time to think, and he had much to think about. Not least the continuing manifestations of Phaross. He needed to bring himself under control before anyone else became hurt through his foolish actions, or inactions.

Not to mention how he had felt learning that Betty's 'death' was only a product of his own mind. An emotion had passed through him that he had not felt since the loss of his planet. Happiness to see another, and he did not know what that could possibly mean