15/02/2055

When deciding to restart the journal, the hope was to create something less disturbing and something more, you know, cool. How does Psycho the Superhero cleanse crime? What are the highlights for the Crazed Vigilante? I wanted to record the fun shit in detail like how I threw a chocolate cake from an alternate reality into a criminal's face. Or maybe brainstorm some new catchphrases and reflect on my favourite interrogations.

But realistically, the chances of that happening were slim. Mainly due to the fact that writing has always been a form of catharsis for me. Not once have I ever said, “Today was eventful. Let me record this!’ Triggers for journal entries have typically been, ‘I feel terrible. Let’s write about this!’

So here I am, F̶l̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ falling from the sky and jotting stuff down.

After the London Massacre eight hours ago, I noticed something. A feeling. And I don’t mean the perpetual headache or the stabbing pain in my shoulder.

I got myself patched up in the Dome, took a nap in Dimension 0 and then went back out cleansing only to find that simply thinking about knives makes my heart rate skyrocket, so much so that the super suit thinks I’m losing control of my powers. I was confused, so I reached for a kitchen knife through a portal, and I dropped that bitch instantly. Started hyperventilating, wheezing, shaking, felt like I was in a furnace. Full on panic attack. Almost passed out.

This led me to two understandable questions.

Number one, what the hell?

Number two, how do you fight against a knife crime epidemic when you have a phobia against knives?

Every second felt like a minute while Cadell sat motionless in Psycho’s Asylum. He tried rereading a volume of the manga Berserk but could hardly concentrate, which was ironic as concentration was the thin barrier stopping him from truly becoming a psycho. The abrupt change of pace warped his sense of time. Everyday for over five years nonstop, he was on patrol, either flipping through the sky, jumping off rooftops or fighting some criminal.

But now he was just… sitting there. How long had it been since he’d sat down for more than thirty minutes? How long had it been since he’d consumed any sort of media without falling from the sky or dodging bullets?

He genuinely couldn’t remember.

Cadell’s eyes drifted back to the pages. One panel showed Guts, a muscular swordsman, decapitating a demon with one swing using a ridiculously huge sword. The detail of Kentaro Mirua’s art never failed to amaze. There were too many breathtaking pages, it was ridiculous.

To become a master storyteller and artist. That was once a dream.

The random thought took him by surprise. It felt almost as foreign as The Voice swimming in his mind. At 13, he had wanted to create a compelling comic beloved by many and now at 23 he was failing to stop massacres.

He failed to stop the massacre.

Cadell groaned. He slumped on his chair, sinking lower and lower as if he was melting into sloppy goo. If there was one thing he despised the most, it was stagnation. Even if he failed to save multiple lives, even if sorrow filled his heart, he wanted to keep moving forward. He wanted to keep cleansing crime. But now he couldn’t even do that.

Ejiro had ruined everything.

That bastard was currently in a coma on a hospital bed, probably smiling while unconscious. Failed or not, the assassin had clearly done his homework.

“Hey Cad, what’s up?”

Elijah briefly nodded as he strolled into Psycho’s Asylum wearing a lab coat. He was a researcher at the Dome and the CEO of a pharmaceutical company. Or maybe a biotech company. Cadell always forgot which one and didn’t care enough to ask.

“This is an emergency. I need your help bro,”

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “The massacre? You minimised the casualties significantly. You did what you could.”

Cadell shook his head. “It’s not that.” He told his best friend about the encounters with Ejiro and the lingering psychological damage.

Elijah stroked his beard. “So what you’re saying is you have a phobia of knives?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to go out tonight but you can’t because when you inevitably encounter a criminal with a knife, you’ll freeze up, get shanked multiple times, and bleed to death?

“Yes.”

“Oh. Is that it?” Elijah looked at Cadell as if he was stupid. “Take a break. A mini holiday let’s say. Come back when you’re ready.”

Cadell returned the, “are you stupid?” look. Then he laughed. Because that was obviously a joke. Clearly. Had to be.

Elijah's face remained neutral. Cadell stopped laughing.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Of course bro.”

“This city is home to the most violent criminals in the world.”

“So you’re going to die instead. Smart move.”

Cadell couldn’t find a retort, head buried in hands. Elijah was right. Unless he could miraculously come up with some quick fix, there was no way he could go out.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“Talk to Dr. Lunetta. She should be able to he-”

“No,” Cadell interrupted. “I mean…” He struggled to articulate the exact words. Cleansing crime meant everything. It was his one and only obsession, taking up 95% of his life. He lived and breathed the superhero life. Nothing else mattered.

As if reading his mind, Elijah nodded. “I know what you mean. I have a possible solution. You’ll get angry but I need you to hear me out, okay?”

Cadell’s eyes narrowed. He sensed the answer like a spidey sense. It was a question his best friend had asked too many times in the past.

“What if we created a manga together?” Elijah asked. “I’ll write the comic script. You illustrate.”