CRASH, CRASH, CRASH!

Hazel striked the monitor of her computer three times. She breathed heavily and inspected bruised knuckles, curly brown hair dangling over eyes burning with fury.

Of course, one does not simply destroy their computer screen without a trigger. Like with many explosive fits of rage, the action marked the culmination of days of frustration and disappointment.

Lately, every evening was the same. For multiple hours, without interruption, she refreshed Psycho’s profile page on all social media sites and searched multiple news outlets in the hopes for an update. There was none.

Why now? Of all the times to disappear, why now?

The thought was fleeting, gone as soon as it came, because now she was cackling. The laugh was maniacal, disturbing and downright annoying.

Her idol vanishing was certainly heartbreaking. But maybe this was perfect timing.

Hazel put on a crimson mask reminiscent of a certain superhero.

Tonight was her debut. It was time.