Snippet #2209327

"I like you hero. You’ve made your perspective much clearer than I could see before. I only wish were on the same side of the playing field. However I feel I am where I need to be at the moment as you are truly where you should be. As a villain, if we are to fight as enemies, I hope you never truly consider me an enemy. Then I’d really feel bad about what I must do. But since Psionic and you are on the same team, please look after him while I’m across the broader. I’d appreciate it."

As he said this, Jackson gasped slightly in shock. He could tell the man had trouble with the idea of selfless sacrifice, but that he was an outight villain? Never would have guessed it, not from the way he acted. He was far too passionate, exactly opposite from the cold, calculating type. He could tell, he knew, that even though though he was a villain, someone who he was directly opposed to, that the man himself wasn't truly evil. He had Jackson's old eyes. The eyes of someone who was lost, looking desperately for their way back to the right path. Jackson recognized them because he'd seen them everyday until he'd met Kina. Every time Jackson looked in a mirror they were there. His devotion to the cause of villainy must have been for a reason, perhaps it was easier, perhaps it suited his means. Whatever it was, Jackson could respect it. He couldn't get on board with it, not after he'd been introduced to Kina and found his path again. Not after he'd reconciled himself for the death of his mother and devoted himself to righteousness. He couldn't respect the idea of blatantly disregarding the law, or the lives of the innocent. However, he knew it was for a reason, and that was good enough for him. Jackson slowly nodded. He would most definitely look out for the wounded man if their paths ever crossed again. He could still feel the soothing aura coming from him. "Definitely the heroic type." Jackson thought. "Probably selfless to boot. He radiates extreme kindness." As he finished pondering the man he was studying stood, then spoke.

"On our way here, right outside the museum, we saw a blue haired woman fly from the building off into the night sky. She looked very upset. Then we saw a young lady dressed in black on the ground. A person that looked really similar to Brightside came and picked her up and disappeared shortly after we entered. He didn’t really look dangerous or like he was going to hurt her."

"Kina. That other Brightside must have taken her somewhere... Hmmm.... I'll have to track her down. Looks like there's no sleep for me tonight. Just as Jackson was about to leave, the one who'd spoken earlier asked him a question.

"By the way, what’s your name? My codename is the Nobleman, and this is Psionic."

"I'm the Blood Claw. I don't like the way my name makes me sound like a villain, but it's a part of me and I've accepted it." Jackson said, though he couldn't help but be embarrassed at how evil his name sounded. "I'd shake your hand, but..." Jackson didn't finish, instead he pulled his coat sleeve up on the right side and flicked out his claws with a metallic shing. "Not exactly the nicest way of greeting someone. Before I leave, I've got one thing to say. I could never fight someone like you, not unless I really had to." Jackson said. "Even then, I would hate myself for having to oppose you. If I was responsible for injuring or killing you, I would regret it the rest of my life." Jackson thought about it for a brief moment. He thought long and hard. As a hero, could he put his feelings aside and do what was necessary? Could he end the life of a man searching desperately for his own path? Could he kill someone who was so like him? After having stood in those shoes? Only in desperation, if the fate of the world rested on it. He continued, "You'll find your way some day. I know it, I just know it. I'm not saying you'll devote yourself selflessly to upholding the light, though I hope you do, and I'm not saying you'll cast your heart into the blackness either. Some day though, you'll find the path you're looking for. I truly hope that when you do, it leads you to where you need to be. Thanks for the information, and all your help. I hope we can meet again!"

As Jackson finished speaking, he ran out the door and up the stairs. He furiously raced out into the night, shouldering his way past the few stragglers trying to find out if the museum was safe. He didn't have time for their questions. Kina was out there somewhere. Probably injured, maybe even close to death. As he ran, he pulled out his cell phone, immediately calling Kina. He tried once or twice, but got no answer. He kept on calling. He needed to be sure she was ok. If she wasn't... Jackson was out of friends in Kirkcroft, and he was not planning on losing someone who'd become so very important to him. He continued running he checked at her apartment but got no answer. He ran out into the night, searching for her, hoping he'd find her.