“There’s nowhere to go but up” the man cooed, clearly proud of himself for managing to turn a phrase. What a moron. Garethon couldn’t help but wonder if this man was a clinically diagnosed idiot. The negaverse agent in disguise wanted nothing more than to stand up and slap the stupid smile off that dumb yuppies face.

Well, nothing more save for one thing, which would be to not have to come to these stupid anger management sessions anymore. Even as he thought this, a two hundred some odd pound guy who looked capable of pulling the arms off a grizzly bear sat across from Garethon, crying his eyes out. It was pathetic, Garethon almost felt sick just watching it.

“I just… I just want my son to know. To know there’s another way! A peaceful way!” the imbecile sobbed. They let this man reproduce?! The fact that this man’s son had gotten this lot in life angered Garethon more than the fact he had to sit here and endure listening to an old man cry. The failure of a therapist put his arm around the loser, trying to comfort him.

“It’s all right. Let it all out. No one in this room is going to judge you, you’re in a safe place.” Which was a damn lie. Not only was Garethon judging this worthless piece of garbage, he was actively considering hunting him and this stupid therapist down in his powered form and murdering them both. Or capturing them and bringing them to a dark mirror person, which would have technically been more useful in the long run but gave Garethon less satisfaction. As it was, Garethon knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he EVER ran into this stupid therapist while on the prowl he would drop WHATEVER he was doing and murder the idiot. Ridding the world of this moron was about as important as ridding it of the senshi.

“Garethon, I notice you’ve been very quiet in today’s session. Is there anything you’d like to share?” Plenty, he thought to himself, but resisted the urge to say it. This was his last session of his court ordered anger management crap, and once he was done he’d be able to take Millicent one weekend a month. Well worth putting in a few more hours of this stupid crap.

“No, thank you.” It wasn’t hard to lie, it was easy as breathing. Usually he could get away with that, and spend the rest of this annoying session just imagining ways in which to bring down the senshi. But today was his lucky day. Today, the moron decided to push the issue.

“Garethon, we all need to share in order to grow. You haven’t done a lot of sharing, and I need to hear from you to be sure that you’ve truly reformed and learned to deal with your anger issues.”

What a jerk. Garethon hated that this man had even this little bit of power over him, to be able to threaten to ‘fail’ him from anger management. To Garethon, that was an admission of defeat, which actually made him angry.

Ironically, Garethon didn’t have anger issues. He was quite capable of bottling his emotions and hiding his true feelings from people. That’s half of what being in advertisement was, being able to keep a straight face while you took someone’s money and gave them something they didn’t need. It gave him a feeling of power and accomplishment every time he did it.

But Garethon wasn’t in anger management because of anger issues. He was in anger management because it was easier for the court then accepting that Garethon might be a sociopath. When he had argued that he should have custody of his daughter, he had said things about Bellatrix, betrayed secrets he knew about her that would have made Judas shameful. He’d even gone so far as to attempt to plant drugs in her apartment. He’d been interrupted in the act and managed to escape without notice, but the judge had a pretty good idea of what had happened. He blamed anger and drinking, of which Garethon hadn’t the slightest issues, and demanded Garethon seek help.

His reward for three years as a member of A.A. was that he could visit his daughter unsupervised. It gave him a slight thrill every time he got to tell Bellatrix she had to leave, to kick her out of his apartment so he could have his evenings with his daughter. His reward for five years in Anger Management was supposed to be the ability to have one weekend a month with Millicent, but he had ‘accidently’ hit his last therapist with his car. The man survived, and the police report had deemed it an accident (I had to crawl into the back seat of my car to get a paper I knocked over, I must have accidently put the car in gear with my foot) but the judge had still ordered another five years of anger management. Which he was almost done with. Just one more lie.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I haven’t raised my voice in over two months, and last week when my landlord yelled at me I wanted to hit him, but I just thought ‘no. I’m better than that’ and the urge passed. I’m sorry I haven’t been sharing lately, I’ve just been so busy I guess I’ve been distracted, but I feel like I’m making real progress!”

As bad as it had felt to listen to the puny whelp threaten him, it felt one hundred times better to watch the man just eat up the lie as he told it. What an idiot, Garethon had this in the bag.

“That’s really impressive Garethon!” The whole room clapped for him, all bright beaming smiles, all proud of his ‘progress’. He smiled back, keeping up the illusion, and then retreated back into his much more important thoughts. About the Sensei. About the Negaverse. About his daughter. What would he get her next week? He had said he wouldn’t, but the only way he could get her to like him more than her mother was to make sure she was never disappointed. Even bubblegum would suffice as a gift, or a small snack. So long as he got her something.

Lost in his own thoughts, Garethon was surprised to see that the meeting was ending. He got up abruptly to get out before the therapist cornered him. “Garethon! Can you wait for a minute, I would like to speak to you.”

No, was the answer Garethon wanted to provide. I’m busy. I’m not interested. You’re a boy lover. None of the words would have been wise, so
instead he turned and lied “Sure, what’s up?” The idiot put his hand on Garethon’s shoulder, and Garethon resisted the urge to break it off. “Garethon, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of your progress. You are a success story I’m going to tell for years to come. We’re all going to miss you here.”

Not if you’re dead, Garethon wanted to retort, but again, didn’t. Instead his just smiled. He turned and left, walking out the door without another word. He made his way to a car parked on the curb, a red convertible. He opened the door and sat down. He sat for a moment, breathing and collecting himself. He wasn’t really angry, just tired. It took a lot out of him to sit there and keep up the illusion of remotely caring. At least he was finally done.

He glanced into his side seat, there was a kendo bokken sitting in it. Not HIS bokken, just another bokken he had for competition. He had been training with it to increase his reflexes as Magnetite. On the floor was a short sword, sheathed and stored under his seat. In the back seat were a fencing foil, and some other sparring equipment. Normally, after a day like he’d had today, he would blow off steam by going to do some sparring with members of his fighting groups, but since Painite had corrupted him, he had another way to blow off steam.

He turned on the car and began to drive across town. He never
started his rounds for the evening in a place that he had been seen as a civilian. He didn’t doubt that the disguising effect of his power up wasn’t working, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. No one could ever connect him to Magnetite if he was never in the same general area as the negaverse agent. He sometimes powered up when he saw an opportunity nearby, like when he had seen Remarque attacking Lenka and powered up to keep him from killing her. In that case, though, he’d had no choice. Whenever he did, he chose caution.

He parked on a vacant side street and walked down an alley, looking for a good place to power up. The reverberating sound of his own footsteps off the close, cramped walls of the ceiling less concrete hallway made him feel like he was being watched or followed, though he knew that wasn’t true. He was cold, pulling his trench coat close around his shoulders he looked for a better place to power up. Not more secluded, there was no one watching him, just less open. He didn’t feel safe here. He felt like the stars themselves were conspiring against him, whispering to each other in the dark tapestry of sky, relaying his movements to his enemies. Again, ridiculous, but Garethon didn’t truly understand this war he’d stepped into.

“Should assume the walls have ears until I determine they don’t” he reminded himself. Until he knew who his enemies were, he couldn’t assume anything about them.

His salvation came in the form of a gas station with an outside bathroom. No one would see him go in, no one would him come out. He approached the station from behind to avoid the pump cameras, stepped into the cramped restroom and checked for cameras. Seeing none, he powered up. “Not the most romantic place to begin my nightly activities.” He reflected, reading the rude comments on the bathroom walls “But it serves.”

He slipped out and into the darkness before anyone could see him, and began his nightly life.

He made his way into an alleyway, stepping over an unconscious bum, and made his way up a fire escape to a rooftop. He’d become familiar in the past days with his new physical capabilities, like jumping onto rooftops or across streets. Still, he felt these techniques were showy, drew too much attention to the user, and he resisted any urge to use them when they weren’t necessary. Besides, the walking gave him time to think. About his wonderful daughter and her idiot mother, and the plans he had for the future. His job and his role in the negaverse, especially promotion within the negaverse. He had no illusions about how difficult it would be to advance in the negaverse, but he also had no doubt that he would make it.

While he was thinking, he stumbled upon a small construction area on top of a building. It shook him from his thoughts and reminded him he hadn’t really done much chaos work tonight. He hadn’t collected any energy or fought any senshi. Somewhere the urge to do bad had left him, and he just felt bored.

It was then that he heard a familiar voice. He moved over to the edge of the building and looked down, and a smile crossed his lips as he saw the man. Of all the men that could have been walking down that street at this time, while Magnetite was bored out of his mind, it would have to be HIM. The anger management therapist, apparently out with his wife.

A plan unfolded easily in front of Magnetite’s eyes. He walked over to the construction area and picked up a cinder block. He walked over to the edge of the rooftop and placed the hunk of concrete on the precipice and waited for his target to walk underneath, smiling more and more.

“What a wonderful night for a tragic accident.” He whispered to himself. His target stopped mere steps away from his doom to speak to his wife and for a moment, Magnetite had second thoughts.

He wasn’t worried about getting caught; even if someone saw him they wouldn’t recognize him. And he wasn’t worried about the morality of this issue; it didn’t even cross his mind.

What he DID worry about was that if he killed this man that he might not get released from anger management anytime soon. If the therapist hadn’t put his paperwork through yet, he might have to go for weeks or months of additional anger management while the issue was sorted out. Was Magnetite willing to put up with all of that just to get the satisfaction of causing this physical agony to someone who bothered him?

After a moment of consideration, Magnetite decided he was. He pushed the cinderblock over when the therapist started moving again, watching it only long enough to determine it would find its target. Looked like it would be a shoulder hit, probably not enough to kill the man, but it would put him in the hospital for sure. As he walked away, Magnetite felt much better.

“There’s nowhere to go but up.” He chuckled to himself, hopping to the next rooftop and disappearing into darkness.

Word Count: 2616