[center][h2]Psychomachia:[/h2][/center] The web had been filled with the vaguely sinister, the openly cringey, and the occasionally profane, leaving Christopher to resign himself before the inevitable prospect of delving into the outer-sphere. It was early, and perhaps not prime-time for an aspiring vigilante. On the other hand, he may as well indulge in an activity that was neither leisurely nor particularly productive; the procuring of a coffee drink. Some menial task that camouflaged in cafe-ambience as enjoyment, with the prospect of invigorating caffeine serving as some excuse for productivity, accomplishment. Some caffeine, he thought, and he could do anything in the whole wide world. Huzzah! Some caffeine, he thought, and he’d still be the same never-was. Why bother? In the end, optimism prevailed, and ‘Psychomachia’ took to treating his coffee-run as an ad-hoc patrol. Might as well work the proverbial ‘muscle’ a little, the novice parahuman mused. Two squashed gremlins, like compressed, low-res renderings of a particularly unflattering photo, [i]frooped[/i] into existence. As the very beginning, he had believed he could only control these less-than-delights from within a certain range. Intuitively enough, he had stumbled onto the knowledge that he could ‘shunt’ himself into one of them, and - astonishingly - take [i]flight[/i]. And so he had, taken by the wondrous fear of ascent, buoyed and combated by the winds in equal measure. Enthralling. Glorious. [i]Screaming?[/i] His half-assed patrol, apparently, had paid surprising dividends. He eyed the ‘other’ in the area and, uncomfortably, he explored [i]something else[/i] he could do. Uncomfortable quaking pervaded his body, soreness like each constituent joint of his limbs being twisted and unravelled like a nailed screw. From his impish bodice his true self emerged. Alright, big guy, nice and friendly introduction, firm handshake. Alright, big guy, give up and retire already. “... what’s the duh-damage?” He stuttered to the other, foregoing the handshake.