GraceFall [ONC 2024]

2

Sean Smith's apartment - Upper Brompton - Faraday City ...

Zjahn had not told his colleagues about all his powers. Some of them were too much like villainous powers, such as his pyrokinesis, the ability to create and control fires with his mind. Others were dubious in their morality. He could control minds. If anyone knew that, they would no doubt fear and distrust him even more than they already did. He could also create illusions so perfect that they had presence, a solidity to them almost as though they were real objects.

He looked now upon one of those objects, allowing himself to see the illusion. Another him. A very different him. Taller, not as bulky as the body he projected into people's minds in order to better assimilate into Earth society. A visage of terror, with sharp teeth beneath a mask of metal. Eyes that burned with internal fire. The costume he created for his doppelgänger accentuated the evil that he wished to project.

The full-length mirror showed both forms. His heroic persona beside the being that he would use to rain terror down upon the citizens of Faraday City, perhaps even the world, in order that he, the real him, could defeat the unbeatable foe. At last, a chance to prove himself, to draw himself out of the mire of mediocrity into which the world, and its heroes, had forced him.

"You will bow before the might of Flame Lord!" The words emerged from the mouth of the illusion, but it wasn't quite right. Too human. Not nearly intimidating enough. The name, too, felt wrong. "No. No. Fear the might of ... of ... Phaross! Yes. Yes! Phaross!"

The illusion created a beacon of fire above its palm, above his palm, and Zjahn laughed. Of course, he would ensure no innocents would come to harm in this project, he wasn't a monster, after all, but he needed to make it as real as possible. Sometimes he would need to come close to true villainy, but, mostly, he would choose the perfect situations for their battles.

The voice still needed work. A little more sibilant, more animal-like and primal, like a Zorn beast from his own planet, a reminder of his home. He changed the doppelgänger's cape to a deep crimson and made it flow in an illusory wind. Better than his own cape, for certain, but, then again, his own cape was real, hidden from view with the power of his mind when in his human persona.

"Fear me! Phaross!" There! That was much better. A terrifying sight and a fear-inducing voice. "Now you die, Psycona! Now you ..."

A knock came to his door and the illusion disappeared in the blink of an eye. In the same instant, he took the form of Sean Smith, the weedy, short man that spent his days buying and selling stocks in the privacy of his own home. A tedious practice, but these humans had no understanding of any form of society that did not require money, and the body he chose looked nothing like his heroic form, for obvious reasons.

He knew who called. Only one person could come to his door without his knowledge. He suspected Betty Burns had some form of telepathy, but she had never shown it. Only a psychic could hide from Zjahn's powers and this world had a number of them. He would have to remain vigilant about that. True, no human had the extensive psychic powers he controlled, but even low-level psychics could see through even the most powerful illusions unless Zjahn put in the effort.

When he had first come to this city, he had accepted the offer of this apartment, given him by the industrialist, Peter Skein, the man that fancied himself a hero, creating a series of ever-more sophisticated drones. He even pretended that he was those technological marvels, calling himself 'Drone' and taking Psycona's place in the super-team, Bastion. Another slight against Zjahn that he could never forgive.

"Hi! Watching a movie?" For an Earth woman, Zjahn supposed Ms Burns was not un-pretty, in her way. She tried to look beyond him, into the apartment. "I just heard voices. Anyway, I made pie! A little too much, you know, and I thought you might, you know, um, like some?"