Sean woke up in a cold sweat, sprawled on the beige carpet of his bedroom. This was a common sight, as he often had nightmares of this caliber. Now every morning, he almost expected to have fallen off the bed during the night. Blankly, he stared up at the cracked paint of the ceiling, ignoring the worried voices in his head. It had been 469 days since Myles had died and -so far- his acting was on point. No one had even suspected that Myles wasn't really Myles.

   Coincidentally, it had also been 469 days since he'd had a good night's sleep.

   Shifting to a sitting position, Sean leaned back against the chipped wooden bed frame. He glanced at the clock that had fallen off the wall last week. 2:18 AM. Wow, he'd slept in. Grunting as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, he stood up shakily and groggily shuffled over to the closet and sifted through his gigantic heap of mostly-clean clothes -hastily picking out a green T-shirt with only one stain on it, and a pair of faded blue jeans that he'd worn barely three times this past week. After a moment of panic as he struggled to find the hole for his head, he changed into the clothing and left the room; ignoring the unmade bed and the world-record-holding amount of sticky, smelly, and just plain gross clutter that had collected all around the room over the past year and a half.

   Swearing under his breath as he pulled his sneakers on over his dirty, week-old socks, Sean entered the dark living room -which wasn't in much better condition than the rest of the house. Stumbling past the heaving pile of completely dirty laundry stacked up against the wall, he sat down on the only clean spot of the old, stained couch; and began searching for the TV remote in the semi-darkness. Various college papers (including a diploma), were swiped off the glass coffee table and flung around the room.

   Once he finally found the elusive controller hiding underneath the couch, he switched on the television and pressed the big, red button to change the channel. Almost instantly, the brightly colored logo of FoxNews filled the dirty screen, lighting up the previously dark room. Leaning back on the cushions, he sighed, genuinely hoping the news would tell him something interesting -if only so he could leave this mess of a house for once.

   A bleached-blonde woman wearing too much makeup and a very revealing green dress appeared in the program. "Hello everybody! I'm Barbara Nyx from FoxNews 6. And today we are covering a rather unsettling case of kidnapping." The woman's face never shifted from her unnerving smile, which was slightly concerning, considering just what she was reporting. Barbara continued from the screen, her blinding white-yellow hair stuck up in a perfectly pristine bun.

   "Yesterday, at 6:30 pm, two siblings were rekidnapped from the corner of Broadway and Ash. The victims: Kamille and Jason Juga, are both 17 years old. According to the police, they had run away from their abusive parents: Mary and Dennis Juga -who have been detained- last year. The locals speak highly of them, although their exact living arrangements are unknown. Their chief abductor was reported as having a bright pink mustache, his motive for kidnapping them are unknown at this time."

   Sean grinned, this was interesting.

   "The chief of police: Panin Zeaz, has been quoted promising 'with hair that color, they will find him in a day.' Well Mr. Zeaz, we all hope you can keep true on your promise, for the Juga's sakes."

   Chuckling darkly, Sean thought over the many worst-case-scenarios of this particular tragedy. The police wouldn't be able to find Mr. Pink by then. If he can kidnap two teenagers in broad daylight with minimum witnesses; he wasn't going to be found easily, let alone in a day. It seemed to him, and the rest of his team, that the police could use some help.

   He was just in the act of getting up from his spot on the sticky couch, when the reporter switched to a young man who looked too young to be on TV. Obviously, judging by the sweat stains and the crooked bow-tie, this was his first day. "Thank you Barbara. I am Billy Nilond, the assistant to the head detective on the hero case."

   Intrigued and slightly worried, He sat back down.

   "Apparently, New York has a new line of defence in the form of some so-called superheroes dubbed 'The Illusions.' We don't know who they are, or what they are capable of, but we are working tirelessly to find them and determine who's side they are on." Trying extremely hard to look professional, he continued to speak about "The Illusions" and how they are a threat to their city.

   Scoffing at their stupid name for him, Sean stood up from the couch and reached for the remote. "Yeah, well screw you Billy. You'll never find me." He mumbled under his breath as he turned off the television, just as another reporter was talking about a mass-power outage in the downtown.

   Stomach growling as he entered the kitchen, he threw the remote onto the dish-covered counter, poured himself a massive bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios, and sat down at the rickety plastic table. Pulling out Myles' old phone, he checked his texts. Two unread messages, both from his friend's parents. Heart sinking as he opened the first one, he prepared his lie for the day.

Mom: "Hey Myles, I was just wondering if you were okay. Your sister said you hadn't called her in a while. Is there something we should talk about?"

   Fingers tapping rapidly against the screen, Sean silently dreaded the day this would come back to bite him -as he knew it would.

"Yeah, I'm fine, my new job has me on insane hours. Sorry about that, I'll call her after my shift."

   Sighing, he added "Call Sheila" to his to-do-list, and opened the next text.

Dad: "Hey buddy, howzit going? Your mom and Sheila are worried sick."

   No thought was needed for this answer, it was practically a copy.

"I'm fine, I just texted her. I'm gonna call Sheila after my shift. Thanks for your concern though :)"

   Grunting in annoyance as he switched to his own phone, he tapped his texting app, only to see zero unread messages. He wasn't surprised, his parents died a while ago in a car crash, and friendships required more time than he had to spare. Apparently, 'best friends' told each other everything, and he just couldn't make that commitment.

   Finishing his cereal, Sean put both the phones away and walked into the bathroom. Grabbing his hairbrush, he tried to attack his mess of brown hair, but failed miserably and gave up. In a moment of blank-mindedness, he stared at himself in the mirror for a while. He looked like he was just run over by a freight train, and then the train had backed up. His sapphire blue eyes stared back at him in a tired fashion, ringed by deep purple bags, and his unshaven stubble carpeted his almost-chiseled cheekbones and scratched his neck uncomfortably. His light brown hair was still a mess, and his pale skin made him look unhealthy -although a few nights of good rest and good food would probably fix that right up.

   Bored of contemplating his reflection, he bent down and opened the cupboard beneath the sink, pulling out a large red duffel bag. Inside was a neatly folded black shirt with a green hood, emerald-colored protective pads on the shoulders, and laces of the same color with a gray stripe on the arms. Sparing a moment to put it on, he moved on to the lower half of his suit. A jade belt with a blue "O" as the buckle rimmed black pants with emerald pockets in the same style as the shirt, and a pair of dark brown knee-high boots with black toes and mint laces. He slipped on a pair of black, fingerless gloves and, with a grunt, he slapped a bright harlequin domino mask onto his eyes.

   Now, with the mask on his face and the suit on his back, he was no longer Sean Leelan. He was Optic. Sworn protector of New York City and vigilant hero of many a drunken man in need of a ride home.

   "Now then, time to find those kidnappees. You ready guys?" He spoke to the air, making his way over to the small balcony that jutted out from the incredibly messy kitchen.

   Thrilled by the promise of clean, non-sock-smelling air, he grinned. "Well Mr. Pink, I hope you have life insurance." He jumped off the balcony and fell out of sight. A few seconds later, if you looked fast enough, you could see a bright yellow cape fly up and around the corner of the neighborhood.