CRISIS ON INFINITE DREAMWIDTHS: EVENT END

[metamods]

AT THE END OF THE WORLD

The sound isn't unlike thunder when the universe begins to crack apart. Loud, thrumming thuds that tear the sky and the fabric of reality. The nexuses are being stomped out, engulfed back into the void one by one.

Characters may be in these nexuses as they're slowly engulfed by the cracks. Some may be saying they're final goodbye's to old friends, new friends, or simply watching as the apocalypse descends on whichever world they're in.

And then, just before they're about to fall into oblivion - they're snatched away.

IN CENTRAL CITY —

Outside The Alliance HQ, Chaos Gate and the Silent Mystic stand with their eyes tightly shut, hands linked together as one. Above you the sky has turned a deep crimson. The crack is a yawning chasm as buildings are torn apart brick by brick, falling into the abyss.

If something isn't done soon then you're all dead.

This world is a nexus and this can't be changed, but it can be pulled from the 'between' it has fallen into, and restored to its proper place. This will require an enormous amount of energy. The mystics bid the gathered to join hands: they ask you to remember their world, the one they left behind and tether this world to it. Your strongest memories may bleed out, giving the people around you a glimpse of who you are, what you were.

The universally displaced are here with you. This is a last mingle opportunity. The comm will remain open so people can continue to play any threads they didn’t get a chance to during the run of the event. They too can join hands and share their memories, but as they are not tied to this dimension, when it’s restored they will either return to their own worlds or the nexuses they left behind.



CONNECTION —

Everything goes dark.

It feels endless, swallowing your sight as well as all sound as it closes in. Slowly, glowing threads begin to appear, tying one person to the next, then to the next, and so on. Only those who are linked to Metaheroes are tied with these golden glowing threads. The threads flow down to their feet and then shoot up towards the sky.

There's a boom, different to the thunderous cracks of before. The sky rushes back into place, day and night speeding by as it hurries to realign itself to the proper date and time. It's dizzying, for a moment, before it begins to feel grounding. Right.

The air feels different. Fresher, somehow. The sky is brighter; the world seems fuller, like it has been allowed to become what it should have been all along. A cheer goes up. The people are elated, relieved to see the sun again.

Players may be troubled should they have ventured into other worlds. They have seen the nexuses that have fallen to ruin, know how they too once felt exactly like this.



THE WORLD CONTINUES TO TURN —

The world has been restored to its proper place. Interdimensional communication is coming through again. The Guilds, exhausted as they were putting fires out across the non-meta cities, are relieved. Perhaps this is finally over.

With the return of interdimensional communication comes the return of interdimensional travel as well. This technology has been used in this world before; it was only with the advent of the recent powerful Confluences that it all went dark. Now that it’s back, the Guilds start to make plans immediately. It will take a little time to organize everything, but once they have a system in place, it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate everyone’s home universes and return them there. They set a tentative date for September 4th to start trying to return everyone home.

That being said, the government is none too happy with any of this. The Guild Systems were put into play by two metahumans who wanted the best for the world, as a means to protect them from those who would do them harm. Years have been spent slowly wrestling control from those two and now there is an opportunity.

Behind the scenes a storm is brewing. If they can spin this to blame the Unaligned then perhaps they have no more need for the Guilds. The Society is a thorn in their side that they’d like to finally be rid of, but they’re essentially untouchable. The Unaligned, however, are flagrantly breaking the law. Constantly putting themselves in the spotlight, making it all too easy to yank the rug out from under the metahuman leaders.

How wonderful for them that these strangers from away have made such a wreck of the trust in the systems that protected the metahumans of this world.

Mechanima is all too aware that things are about to go to hell. The Society is welcoming all metahumans, regardless of moral alignment, to join them. It is heavily encouraged among the rumor mill that the Unaligned should start reconsidering their position.

As the days go on, things begin to change across Meta.

• Excelsior has become vehemently anti-metahuman. While this outrage may pass, they’re passing new AI laws in rapid succession. Limitations on what AI can and can’t inhabit. Limitations on robot bodies, on mechanical prosthetics, on the research that can be done into what gives things the spark of life. Magic is essentially forbidden within the city. Any abilities that can be mistaken as magic are treated as suspect.


• Sunset Falls is worse for wear. Yet the people remain as grateful as ever to the metahumans who stepped in to save them. That gratitude outweighs any fear that they could have caused this - Sunset Falls has disasters all the time that have nothing to do with interdimensional weirdness. They continue to be unbothered by the metas among them.


• Central City, having witnessed all the off-world metas stepping in to save them, is oddly grateful for this - but they haven’t forgotten what happened. The disappeared are among them again and are unharmed despite their sojourn through the universe, but the fact that it happened at all is cause for concern. Confluences are a problem. They want answers, they want solutions.


• Little Love remains untouched and unchanged.

I DREAM A DREAM SO PRETTY —

Two days after the apocalypse is averted, every off-world meta will find a pillow lying on their doorstep. It doesn’t matter who you are or where you live - one of these pillows will find its way to you.

If you’re quick or wary enough, you may be able to catch a glimpse of the being that placed it there: a figure clad in blue robes. They’ll appear seemingly out of nowhere and lay the pillow down before vanishing into dust. Should they happen to notice they’ve been spotted, they’re clearly started, and lay a finger to their lips before departing.

Atop the pillow is a note: an invitation from the Dreamers of the Willow Maiden. You would have undoubtedly heard of this group: they have a presence in this world, though their reputation’s benign. They’re oddballs and weirdos, but ultimately harmless. They believe in the power of a good night’s sleep - literally.

If the note is to be believed, then the Willow Maiden herself has requested an audience with you, and this audience can only be granted in the world of dreams. Should you accept this offer, the note explains, all you need to do is lay your head upon this enchanted pillow. Sleep will come to you quickly.

Your dreams will be extremely vivid. There are recurring themes bleeding through them: your greatest accomplishment juxtaposed with your greatest failure. The moment you could have acted but stayed still. Highschool embarrassments. Falling. Flying. Here in your own dreamscape, you’ve got more control than anywhere else; you feel as though you can do anything. But beware: these dreams grab for you, both the nightmares and the fantasies. It can be easy to lose yourself and forget what exactly is real.

Luckily, the dreams grab for others as well. Sleeping metas may find themselves involuntarily wandering into one anothers’ dreams. Visitors to a dreamscape don’t have any powers outside of what they normally would, but they can reach out to the dream’s host, should they want to.

If no one else arrives, don’t worry. She is patient and waiting, and doesn’t mind that you stumble. Fall too far into the abyss, and she’ll reach out her hand to steady you.




THE WILLOW MAIDEN —

As you find your way out of the haze of your subconscious with uour allies at your side, the Willow Maiden greets you. She is a massive tree nymph, long-limbed and wooden. She is curled against an enormous tree, looking like a statue. At your approach, she lifts her head from the crook of her arm and extends a hand in greeting. Her smile is warm and motherly. You may feel distrust, but that feeling of safety and protection that guided you home radiates from her.

“You from a far away land, come to this world and made its own.” Her wooden lips don’t move, the words echo through your soul itself. “I can do little for you now but issue warning. Danger is waiting in the dawn, in the shine of her sword. You won this battle, your strength and the strength of all those you have touched has saved you… but she is coming.

She is coming.


“My time is short… your words cannot reach me as you are now. Carve yourselves a new future. One in this world and all others. Dream, and in those dreams, you shall become more powerful than even she can stand. My gift is the gift of new life, new lives, new futures… I have shielded you from her gaze until I could no longer bear it and now… I must rest. May the next time we met be true conversation.”

The Willow Maiden lays her head back down on the curve of her arms. Within moments, she’s asleep.

You wake. Not with a start, but as though you’ve been gently roused from a deep and restful sleep. The dreamsharing effect lingers, and can reoccur off and on throughout the month of September, but you will not find your way to the Willow Maiden’s realm again.

IN SUMMARY.

• The fourth wall ends in a near apocalypse. Characters will have a chance to say goodbye while the metaphorical walls are closing in. They will be pulled back from the brink at the last second.


• Through the collective effort of metaenergy, Metaheroes will rejoin the multiverse, tethered to the worlds which playable characters come from.


• As a result, there's tentative optimism that characters will be able to go home
.

• Anti-meta sentiment is growing across Excelsior, and within governing bodies. Government officials will begin looking to blame Unaligned heroes for various crimes and disturbances.


• It's a good time to pick a side. Or don't.


• Amidst all this, The Willow Maiden invites players to Meta's first dream share event. The dreaming effect lingers and characters may find themselves intermittently sharing dreams throughout September.


• However pleasant this is, however cathartic - it doesn't change that things are tense in the waking world. The Willow Maiden's warning will ring in your ears, too: who is coming?

Comments

steve harrington, stranger things

[retromix]

i.

[ The lights in the Byers' house flicker. Wildly so. He can hear Nancy and Jonathan shouting in alarm. Steve (who fully intended to abandon them and now can't bear the thought of leaving them alone to deal with that thing) rushes back in on that freakish monster he briefly caught a glimpse of now leering over Nancy, Jonathan stunned on the floor.

He takes up the bat and starts swinging, twirling it so the nails can crunch through the Demogorgon's ribcage, ducking and weaving around it to land blow after blow. It's so goddamn huge, it stinks, whatever it's made of is more muscle than fat and he's running on pure adrenaline blended with fear. He drives it back into the bear-trap the others set up and yells for them; Jonathan hurls a lighter and the creature goes up in flames with an unholy scream.

Steve doesn't know what the fuck just happened. ]

ii.

[ Things have been awkward with Nancy lately but they're back on track, he thinks as they dance at the party, laughing with his shades on indoors. It's fun, they're really gelling again and she's starting to relax. Maybe a little too much, he notices as she sways drunkenly and veers for the punch again. He tries to get her to stop, tells her Nance, put it down, but she yanks the cup and stains the front of her shirt red. The crowd hisses and she storms off, Steve close on her heels.

'Nance, I'm sorry. It's not coming off,' he tries to reason with her, but she insists it is and she's so wasted, he moves around in front of her to try and gauge how dilated her eyes are. 'C'mon, let me just take you home. Okay? C'mere.'

'You wanted this,' she burbles, and he denies it with 'No, I didn't want this, I told you to stop drinking,' and then she slurs, 'It's bullshit.'

'No, it's not bullshit, Nance. C'mon.'

'Bullshit. Bullshit ... You're bullshit!'

Steve shakes his head, uncomprehending why she's so mad. 'What?'

With eyes reddened from the drink and secondhand smoke, Nancy glares at him in the bathroom. 'You're pretending like, like everything's okay. Like, like we didn't kill Barb,' she winces, gagging on the words, genuinely upset in her drunkenness, 'like it's great and we're in love and, and we're partying. Yeah, let's party, huh? Party ... We're partying ... This is bullshit.'

But Steve is stuck on one thing, unable to feel his insides all of a sudden or his feet on the floor. His eyes are wide and upset as he tries to make sense of it.

'Like we're in love?' he asks tentatively, cupping her face. She doesn't mean it, he tells himself. She's just drunk. She loves me back. But she's so mad, so forceful.

Nancy looks like she hates him, eyes rimmed with angry, resentful tears. 'It's bullshit.'

'... You don't love me?'

'It's bullshit,' she says softly, final and staring at him right in the eye.

Steve doesn't know what to do but leave. ]

wildcard

[grivences]

[ Vision swims, the scene falling into place. At first, it's not clear whose memory this one is. Both Steve and Robin will recognize it immediately: Mrs. Click's history class, Robin's sophomore and Steve's junior year. The class filters in, taking their seats. Robin's there early, sitting in the middle-back, engrossed in whatever book she was reading back then. (Dante's Inferno in the original Italian?)

In walks Tammy Thompson, a vision in ruffles and lace. Makeup bright, hair freshly dyed and permed. Robin sits up immediately, staring but trying not to look like she's staring. Inferno stays open, so she'll have something for her eyes to flick to on the off chance someone catches her and calls her out.

The bell's about to ring. So far, this is a completely normal morning. The class is there, everyone except—

Ah, there he is. Steve Harrington, sweeping into the class late as always, taking his seat by the door, too cool to walk more than ten feet into the room.

Tammy's eyes stay on Steve. Robin's eyes stay on Tammy.

Absolutely none of them are paying attention to Mrs. Click. ]

[retromix]

[ He watches it unfold, standing off to the side. Robin is his main focus and he notices the way she eyes him when the younger Steve arrives. As a junior year Steve had been deep in his narcissism and it shows as he's forced to view the sight of himself snickering across tables with a guy whose name he can't remember, totally oblivious and uncaring of the people who are all too conscious of him.

Tammy really does stare at him, yikes. Robin looks so unhappy. ]

[grivences]

[ Sophomore Robin looks completely distraught. The one person in the whole world who makes her heart beat to a happier rhythm, and she only has eyes for that dumb jock with the hair.

Current Robin, standing and watching the memory next to Steve, has a different perspective. She sighs, a wistful and disappointed sound. ]

Complete waste of my year.

[retromix]

I think I'm trying to get some gum off that guy.

[ Steve looks disgusted with himself, the kid who isn't paying any attention to the lesson or doing anything remotely useful with himself. Was he really this much of a dickhead? Yes. ]

Tammy's eyes are so big when they stare. Holy shit.

[ He widens his own for comedic purposes and leeeeers at Robin in close quarters. ]

[grivences]

[ Robin laughs, glad that at least now she knows the real Steve, and has him at her side. ]

God, they are... Really completes the muppet-y look.

[ She looks around at the rest of the class, wondering what's going on back in Hawkins. But really, no one else is remarkable, because after all, this is Robin's memory, and the only parts she cared to remember were her obsession with Tammy, and Tammy's obsession with Steve. ]

[retromix]

I don't know how you didn't throw something at my head. I'm so annoying.

[ He wanders up to himself and crouches down in front of the desk, nose wrinkled. ]

You should do it now. Can we touch stuff in here?

[grivences]

Oh man, I don't know... We should try.

[ She heads over to steal a piece of paper from a random student's desk. Was his name Rick? Yeah, that's right. Because he kept making bad Rick Springfield jokes.

Anyway, Robin steals a page out of Rick's notebook, balls it up, and tosses it at Steve's head. ]

[retromix]

[ It goes through dream!Steve's head and hits Steve himself, who makes an O-face in surprise and stands up. ]

We can!

[ He screws up some more paper and backs off to Robin's side, taking a hurling throw at his own head, laughing at it passes through. ]

He shoots, he scores!

[grivences]

Steve Harrington, star of the Hawkins High basketball team, scoring three pointers off of his own head.

[ Okay, throwing things at the memory of Steve is actually super cathartic? Robin laughs along, forgetting her shame over her obvious crush on Tammy. She rips another page from Rick's notebook and starts folding it into a paper airplane. ]

[camarod]

[Billy knows this party. he’s dressed in his Terminator best, gloves tight and the leather sticking to his wet palms. he thinks he stinks faintly of Tina’s cheap beer keg, thinks he can feel Tommy’s eyes on him as he lights up a cigarette and pushes through the crowd.

when Billy dreams of this night, he dreams of looks we have a new Keg King, Harrington. he’s never aware of it, not like this.

some instinct pulls him up the stairs, along the hall. he hears it’s bullshit and like we’re in love? and Billy stops dead. hears the rest, frozen, and then Steve’s racing out and there’s Billy, and they’re in Tina’s house party and Steve probably hates him.

but it’s a dream. just a dream. ] You’re not bullshit, [he says, because Steve is anything but bullshit. ]

[retromix]

[ The outfit he's wearing and his whole appearance phases back into something current as he turns back to hear Billy, the original Steve shouldering his way through the crowd to leave. He knows Jonathan will see him storming off, will come upstairs in a moment and take care of Nancy. It's all old news. ]

I was, though. [ He looks after the direction his dream-self exited. ] I still am, sometimes, but I really was back then. She was right.

[camarod]

You were a kid, Steve.

[he says it because no one ever said it to him. they were both just kids.

the terminator best fades, melts into the boxers, the sleep shirt. Billy’s hair has gotten longer here, touches by his shoulders. he doesn’t know if he should, not after their - fight? but he reaches for him, hand to shoulder, the other to his cheek. ] You weren’t bullshit for not knowing what the fuck to do with the impossible.

[retromix]

I didn't care about Barb, though. I didn't want to have to feel bad because she wasn't my best friend, all I wanted was for Nancy to think I was enough to move on with. That was so selfish.

[ He slips his head free of the touch; it's too familiar, although he doesn't move away otherwise. He watches Jonathan race up the stairs and do his grubby knight in shining armor spiel, coaxing Nancy downstairs. ]

He's always been there when I haven't.

[camarod]

[he does move away; takes a little step back, hands to himself while he watches Jonathon gently lead Nancy downstairs.

sure, it’s selfish. sure it’s a little callous. Billy finds his gaze drawn back to Steve, though, can’t see a trace of any of that on his face now. ] What do want me to say, here? You’re human, Steve. We’re all selfish. We all deal with hard shit differently.

[retromix]

This is when I realised it, for real. That I wasn't a good person. That's why I ran away.

[ Hands in his pockets, he sits down on the window ledge that has a little alcove of cushions. ]

I begged her to take me back.

[camarod]

[Eddie’s better at this, he thinks. not just because there’s an intimacy between Steve and him, but he’s just better at understanding the complexities of what Steve needs. usually. mostly.

Billy doesn’t think he’s allowed that. certainly not allowed in that quiet, cushioned space with Steve, so he opts for the wall opposite. slides down onto his ass, one leg bent and the other stretched out in front of him. ]

Steve, [he says, very quiet. he thinks the music has maybe stopped. thinks he might look a little haunted. ] You’re not a bad person. Not then, not now. I know bad. Bad people don’t grow, or change. They don’t cling to old break up’s and wish they’d been better people. You’re not bad, Steve.

[retromix]

[ He looks around the hallway, the ghostly figures laughing soft and low like echoes as they pass by. He and Billy are the only things that look real and solid, so his gaze drifts back to him. ]

Neither are you.

iii. another open dream/memshare.

[retromix]

[ The landing above the main atrium staircase is long, high enough that people downstairs can't see onto it until they crane their head and squint past the chandelier. Nobody can see the little boy with long hair sat cross-legged behind the bannister in the shadows, hesitantly listening to his parents fighting downstairs.

'You don't have to follow me everywhere I go, you're paranoid!'

'Oh, I'm paranoid? It was paranoia that found your shirt with someone else's lipstick on it?!'

'For god's sake -'

'I'm a shareholder and I'm coming with you to Boston. There's nothing else to discuss.'

'You know Steven has a parent's evening! You're not needed with me!'

'But your slutty little redhead of a secretary is?!'

Steve is around ten years old, hastily getting to his feet when Mrs Harrington's heels click-clack to the bottom of the stairs. She calls up and he peeks down as if he only just got there, nodding when she explains they won't be able to meet his teachers on Friday; his parents have to go to Boston. When she leaves, he runs back to his room to angrily slam the door, which no one hears from the other side of the house.

The misty scene sways, the decor changes slightly. Steve is fourteen, hair clipped closer to his neck like a miniature version of his senior self. He's leaning on the wall out of sight of the downstairs, listening as his parents argue about his dad's latest affair. His mother sounds drunk, upset and shrill, while his father is barking at her to pull herself together. This time Mr Harrington appears at the bottom of the stairs yelling for his son.

'Steven! Come here!'

He moves forward, expression blank.

'We'll be away for the rest of the month, can you handle the housekeeper's bill when she asks for it?'

'Yes, sir. I've paid Mary before.'

His dad doesn't seem to hear him, waving a hand. 'Listen, your mother's having one of her hysterical episodes so I'm booking her into a spa while we're away,' Steve's mother can be heard screaming her protests from the kitchen, something about a Lydia, 'which might leave you on your own a little longer once I'm at the New York office. You're a man now, you'll be fine on your own. Right?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You'll go to school and knuckle down.'

'I will, I made the basketball t-'

His father has already walked off.

The mist sweeps through as Steve's shoulders slump; this time the house and Steve look more like they should in the mid-eighties, but instead of standing there scared Steve is yelling back down the stairs at his dad, both of them red in the face.

'You're the one making mom unhappy, not my grades!'

'Don't you talk back to me under my roof, Steven! You hear me?! You can forget an allowance this summer too! I can't believe you didn't get into college last year. What the hell have you been doing with your time?!'

'I've got a job, I don't need your money!'

'Hah! Your grades are a state so you'd better hope working in that rathole of a video store pays well. I want you with me on the next flight to Boston, you're going to learn how the business works and grow up!'

'I'm not going anywhere with you and mom doesn't want to go either! She only goes because she doesn't trust you!'

'Go to your room!'

'I'm not a kid anymore!'

'You listen to me, Steven. Until you get into college and make something of yourself you don't get to make demands in this house! Now, since you're acting like a child you can go to your room! Go! Now!'

Steve backs off with his dad yelling at him, kicking his bedroom door as he heads inside.

The mist drags the scene back to the landing, where Steve is hugging his mother in the morning. Mrs Harrington is beautiful, a classy businesswoman in appearance; Steve hugs her tight enough to wrinkle her oversized blazer. She pets his floppy hair and kisses him on the forehead where his worried frown is in place. Outside, the car honks obnoxiously loud.

'How long are you going to be away for?'

'I wish I knew, sweetheart,' says Mrs Harrington, taking his hand to lead him downstairs. 'I have to tie up some loose ends in Boston and then we have several business dinners across the month with the new shareholders. It's going to be hectic.'

It's such shit, he thinks. You're keeping him in line.

'Mom,' starts Steve, cut off by another honk.

She cups his cheek, looking like a movie star. Her eyes are solemn and sad. 'You should invite over that girl. Nancy?'

'She hasn't been my girlfriend in ages.'

'She was nice. Have a little party for your friends, we won't tell your father.' She straightens his Family Video jacket and smooths his polo collar out on top, eyes turning fond. 'I love you, Stevie. Be good.'

And then she's gone down the path, the car pulling out with both his parents. He closes the door behind him, heading back up the huge staircase to sit at the top where he used to as a kid, temple resting against the bannister.

The house is silent. ]

[eggplanting]

[Perhaps, in retrospect, falling asleep on a magical pillow wasn't the smartest idea that Steph has ever had, but they needed answers, and after fighting her way out of a Black Mercy coma, whatever this is should be a piece of cake.

The worst part isn't the dreaming itself, it's the sense that she's intruding on something that she was never meant to see, that the dreamer likely doesn't want her to see. It takes her a few scenes to realize who that is; with all three parties in the dream playing a consistent role across time. But Steve is the one left when his parents leave, making it fairly likely he's the source.

Which is — sad. It reminds her of Tim, the little snippets she learned about his parents, what she saw of Jack before he died. He cared more about his money and appearances than he did about his son, and Steve's father seems to be of a similar mind.

She waits until the house falls quiet to announce her presence, which she does by climbing up to sit on the bannister, legs dangling over the edge.]

Hey.

[Gentle, sort of, with the awareness that this is probably going to be a) startling and b) awkward.

It's her first time invading someone else's dream, so she's not sure of the exact etiquette, but she can at least try to be kind.]

i

[tinglesense]

[ Peter absolutely is not expecting this kind of horror movie monster thing. He's seen some crazy memories, of course, and he has his own memories that would make people's heads spin. He's even seen monsters! And aliens!

But what the hell, this one looks straight out of a survival horror game, the kind where you don't ever have enough ammo because it takes up like 5 inventory spaces for some reason.

But this isn't a game. This is something from Steve's actual life. Man.

The creature goes up in flames and Peter is left with Steve and memory Jonathan, who doesn't seem to notice him. ]

Holy shit. You guys had crazy monsters in your world?!

[retromix]

They're from the Upside-Down, the dimension next to ours.

[ Steve is standing off to the side as the memory slows down. He eyes the newcomer curiously, having not met him before. ]

That was a demogorgon.

[tinglesense]

[ Peter isn't super well-versed on other dimensions, but the fact that people in other worlds have interacted with things like that doesn't surprise him. ]

A demogorgon? Like D&D?

[ Peter's nerd cred comes through here, but it does make that monster thing a little bit confusing for him. ]

You guys did a good job taking it down. Man. I bet that was a terrible thing to go through. You okay having to see it again?

[ They haven't met face to face before, but that doesn't matter in the moment. Peter cares too much about other people not to worry about how Steve is taking this memory share thing. ]

[retromix]

How does everyone know about DND?

[ Mildly bewildered, he shrugs and the scene replays the moment with the demogorgon in slow motion. ]

Yeah, it's just a monster. Plenty of those around. [ It's the demobats he really hates after they ate part of him. ] Do you fight many creatures like this?

[tinglesense]

It's a pretty popular game, that's all.

[ Among NERDS anyway, but there are just a lot of nerds in Peter's time and place. It has gotten weirdly mainstream, though. Even people who don't play it know what it is, though they probably wouldn't have heard of the demogorgon before.

He makes a face at the memory replaying. What a thing to have on repeat in your head. ]

Me? No way, man, we don't really have…well, we do sort of have monsters. We had aliens when I was a kid, and then…uh…well, more aliens actually. Mostly we just have crazy aliens. I'm not, like, the goes and fight aliens type though.

[ That's a lie, of course, but secret identity be what it be, and he's just Peter here. ]

You have stuff other than those things? Yikes!