Heroes of Dreamland Rewritten, Book 2: Stars in Far Places

Chapter 36

Meta | メタ

I've never been out and about in Startropolis at night before. Honestly, I've only ever ridden through it on trains before, other than one trip I went on with Mother and Father here for a vacation once when I was about eight. Then, though, we were in our hotel room long before dark. Startropolis isn't a dangerous city, by any means, but it's still a good idea to be inside before dark, just like in any big city.

After all, even if almost nothing ever happens, you never know when some sort of threat will be skulking around after nightfall. Some sort of a threat, perhaps, like myself.

Taking a deep breath, I pull my cape closer around myself—not cold, just nervous—and look down the alley-like street I'm standing near while I wait for my target to appear. Working for Nightmare, so far, has been surprisingly easy and required very little sullying of my conscience. Mostly all I have to do is fight monsters around the fortress to aid Nightmare in coming up with better, stronger designs for them. Supposedly, once he's done assessing a baseline from me, I'm going to be given some sort of serum that will increase my skills and physical properties. I'm a bit suspicious, but assuming I don't end up growing an extra paw or just plain dead or something, the process sounds decently promising overall.

Plus, it would almost come with a new calling code—PS003 instead of TSW001. It would definitely be an improvement, to say the least.

Unfortunately, while I've been able to keep my gloves relatively clean so far, I've actually been sent on a very specific mission tonight. Some Star Warrior who often wastes time in a karaoke bar on this street owes Nightmare money for some product or service he bought back in the time of the first war and has never paid for, so I've been sent to collect the price (with interest) in blood, if need be.

Never thought I'd be reduced to a murderous debt collector, but to be fair, it's been a very, very strange few weeks.

Sighing heavily, I lean against the brick wall of the building I'm standing next to, watching the outside world through the safety and privacy of my mask. I love this thing, and honestly wish I'd thought to start wearing one a long time ago. Being able to keep my face and eyes to myself is even more calming and enjoyable than I'd ever imagined it would be growing up. No having to see people visibly wince when they see my eyes for the first time, no having to wish my emotions could be more easily hidden. I can pull whatever sort of faces I want under this thing, and nobody is any the wiser. Everything I think and feel is now truly my own to either share or keep to myself.

I really wish I'd had that power a long, long time ago. I'd have hidden my face from everyone except Blossom, Forest, and Mother whenever Father wasn't around. No one else deserved to see how I was thinking or feeling anyway. Definitely not Father. Definitely not the children and adults who mocked me for my eyes.

Now, though, there's nobody who I want seeing my face. And for some reason, being able to be anonymous like this, being able to be hidden, makes the thought of having to kill someone tonight so much more bearable. Besides, whatever the Star Warriors have coming, we probably deserve all of it. We treat everyone around us as inferiors—the Halcandrans especially, since we've basically annexed their planet and all, but really everybody—and we sit around, thinking the universe will always just stay under our power and control and not doing anything to prepare to protect our empire from anyone who would challenge us for it.

Of course, besides my general apathy towards many of the other Star Warriors brought on by personal experience with the callousness and bitterness of many of them, the 'gift' that Nightmare gave me a few days after my arrival in his fortress, this burning feeling deep inside of me, this reservoir of rage that I can give in to at any time if I need more power and strength, certainly also makes the idea of working against my own kind slightly more palatable. If I'm feeling too hesitant to carry out an act, I can always just let this rage take over, let it perform the actions for me, as it were.