Fighting against Macquoid was strange to say the least.

I rushed at him, trying to feint a punch at his head, but he realised what I was doing and caught my right arm with his left, and headbutted me. I staggered back.

He then tried to use the situation to sweep my legs, but it was like I could see it happen before it did. I switched my weight to my back leg, and deflected his attack.

And so we continued.

Attack. Defend. Attack. Defend.

Whenever he tried something, I would always see it coming–not just predict it, I could literally see him making the move, and so I managed to either dodge or perfectly defend against it. Sometimes I didn’t even have to think about it. I did automatically, even if it was moves I had never seen, or heard of.

Attack. Dodge. Attack. Defend.

We went on like this until we were both slow and breathing heavily.

And Macquoid started laughing.

“It figures that the one man to not fall by me would be me,” he said arrogantly, spreading his arms outward. “But you’re young and inexperienced. In another life you might have become great–you could have lived up to my name. But here–here you’re nothing.”

“Is that all you got?” I smirked at him. “You think I’m you, but I’m not. And I never will be.”

And suddenly his outfit seemed to change. Where once it was a full black bodysuit, it was now blue, and had a flowing red cape. Red gauntlet gloves covered his arms. His hair and beard shortened until he looked like the perfect superhero, complete with a little twirl on his hair.

The suit that was in that nightmare, oh so long ago. The one I hadn’t seen again. It was suddenly clear as day in my mind.

I thought I was looking at myself, dressed as a hero. But it was him. It was Macquoid.

“It was you,” I muttered under my breath.

“Of course it was me, you moron,” said Jacob. The gloves retreated, folding back to his wrists. “I’ve always been here, and I always will be. You think me a villain? Let me show you then! My story!”

He slammed his open palms down, and suddenly the whole ground erupted, flowers and flower petals flying all around us, all in different colours. Brighter than they had any right to be. As I fell they surrounded me. This was a crazy situation. There was so much to wrap my head around, but I all could see was this image.

Until they all faded away, and I was no longer falling. I was standing behind the one-sided glass of a police precinct. A small boy was on the other side, his hands completely covered and strapped to the interrogation room’s chair.

“You think we’re so different,” said Macquoid. I jumped when I heard him, but he made no move to attack. He sounded angry, but sad as well. He walked in front of me, standing close to the glass. “Do you want to know what the fifth of December really is?”

“You hurt someone,” I said on instinct. It was the tone. Anger. Sadness. But there was more there as well. Emotions I couldn’t describe but ones I knew. Ones I dwelled in more times than I can count.

His shoulders slumped.

“I killed someone,” he said, turning back to look at me. “I lived with it for my entire life. Until I met Paragon.”

“Paragon?” I instinctively put my hands around my neck. So it really all did come back to him. He slammed his hands against the walls.

The whole room collapsed. It was painful and smothering, but just like before, it was all gone.

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We were now standing on the sidewalk in some city. People were walking all around us, cars going back and forth. They were all dressed normally, with Macquoid standing out amongst the crowd.

“Paragon wasn’t always what you saw. I think you’ll understand when you see this. You’ll understand why, at the end of the day, we’re the same.” He was now looking up, like he was waiting for something to happen. It probably would–we were inside his memories, or at least I assumed we were.

And so it was, that massive explosion erupted from the street. The whole ground shook, debris fell everywhere, and fire spread across the entire area.

And out, from the smoke and the rubble came what I could only describe as a monster.

It was like a massive, green fat man, with ghostly tentacles coming out of his back. His whole face was covered up in a plague doctor mask, breathing sounds echoing from it. But he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood a short, tan woman.

She had red hair and a nose ring, and although her whole face was a bit different–longer, with a more angled nose–it was unmistakably Sofie.

“Men and women, boys and girls,” said Sofie as she bowed theatrically. “Here we stand at the doorstep of the eighties. And with the new decade, comes a new era! And who will its harbingers be, you might ask? Well, here we are–the Houses of Doom! Now, I’d suggest you not do anything rash. Or else my friend Mimas here will be very mad.”

The Houses of Doom? So they were real. And Sofie was among their members.

“And now, it starts,” said Macquoid under his breath.

On cue, the wind picked up. Stronger and stronger, it blew almost pushing back the people in its way, and also taking out most of the fires. Those that could now started running, but some–mostly those trapped behind and under the debris–couldn’t.

“Look,” shouted one of them. “Up in the sky!”

I looked up. I couldn’t make out what it was, but something was definitely there. A dot, coming closer and closer, until it slammed down, opposite to the villains. Smoke clouded his forms, but I could tell that it was him.

“Of all the cities, in all the countries in the world,” he said, his arrogance and superiority so palpable I could almost touch them. “You come to mine? You’ll regret this, you subhuman filth.”

The smoke cleared, and there he was, clear as day. Paragon was floating slightly above the ground, and his eyes were once again glowing that fiery blue colour. He was wearing the same suit as he was in my nightmares–black spandex with a big red P on his chest and matching boots and belt–but this time he also had a red cape, which was floating in the wind.

It was somewhat odd to see him young after I saw how he ended up. His whole vibe was different. He was still the same man I saw, and I could feel his intensity and comprehension even here, but now it was different.

It was almost…heroic. I turned to Macquoid next to me. He was completely enamoured. For the second time in not so long, I was relating to him. Our lives, our experiences, they were similar.

Only his life had fallen apart. He was vindictive, jealous, and had a bloodlust that would make cannibals jealous. I knew that because I had seen through his eyes, and had lived through his memories.

I knew that because I was like him. I was him.

“Mimas, you know what to do,” snarled Sofie, and the monster rushed at Paragon.

He flew toward it in a massive burst of speed. Before they could meet, Mimas’ back tentacles grew and wrapped around Paragon, wrapping around him. Before the monster could use that to its advantage though, two energy beams burst through Paragon’s eyes, freeing his head.

And with a simple flex of his muscles, the rest of his body was free.

“Was that your best shot?” he asked with a sneer.

It jumped straight at him, attempting to swing a huge punch at his face, but Paragon grabbed it with ease and, using his free arm, punched it into the ground. He used his eye beams to keep it down, blasting it until it wasn’t squirming anymore.

And the people cheered.

Only Sofie was left standing now, and all she had was a knife.

“Please,” said Paragon, landing in front of her. They were close. And he was too open. Too confident. “I’ve moved mountains. Whole cities have fallen on me. I have stood on Mercury. What will your knife do to me, little girl?”

“Ied nogaraP,” she said, stabbing him in the stomach. I saw him slightly raise his arm, but she just removed the knife, and he was bleeding. A river of blood, and now his whole outfit was slowly becoming red.

And he laughed.

“You think that’ll stop me?” He coughed slightly, but still he didn’t fall.

And I felt something faze through me. It was a sensation I couldn’t even begin to describe, and I’d been through my share of things. It felt like I was both throwing up, but also eating something at the same time.

But that was nothing compared to the sensation I felt when I saw who’d passed me.

Red cape. Long hair. Red gauntlet gloves.

“Like I told you, Paragon used to be different,” said Macquoid. “He was a hero. My hero.”