[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/xYKmI37.png[/img][hr][hr][center][img]http://1.fwcdn.pl/ph/83/61/608361/458955_2.1.jpg[/img][/center][color=#662d91][b]Location:[/b][/color] Dorm room → FearFest bus
[color=#662d91][b]Interacting:[/b][/color] Nobody
[hr][hr][/center]One would expect that Lucas was happy like a puppy on a day like FearFest. Obviously, he was going to pull pranks. It was completely expected from him. In fact, for entire past days now Lucas had been nothing but happy. Which was very odd because his bullying dropped a little. Suddenly his standard victims like Eliana and Milo were left alone. Though the occasional student was thrown around once or twice. Just to make a point. He still had a status to maintain. But still, both teachers and students certainly would have noticed an odd change in Lucas. But today was different. Today he boarded the bus looking like a dog ready to bite. The hellfire in his eyes was back. So intense that it nearly sparked out of his eyes, spelling out doom to everyone. It was evident that he was looking for problems. His mind begging every passing person to give him an excuse. Just to point or even look wrong. Whatever happened, it took the wrong day.

[indent][i]2 hours earlier…[/i][/indent]Lucas couldn’t be happier. Things were lining up again. It was his first year as a Darksider and he spent his last few day planning it all out. Observing victims, setting up traps, gathering materials. All this while he was still rigorously training for the Tournament. Though, nobody would say he did anything for it. On his best days he mostly just fluttered with his tired, hollow eyes. Though he fell asleep far more often. Rarely was he seen at the training room at day and his retrieved dummy was left to gather dust in his room. If anything, those who didn’t know him would say he either gave up or couldn’t care for the tournament.

But right now, for two days, FearFest was more important. As Lucas made his bags his gaze fell upon the journal. Could he leave it unguarded for several days? No. Too dangerous. Even when all the Mayweathers were coming with them, he shouldn’t leave such a valuable asset just in the hands of the faculty. Dropping down on the bed next to it, Lucas felt a certain itch to open it once more. Maybe he could discover some feisty secrets about Eliana like he did last time? Secrets he could use against her. Well, he would keep it light hearted. A silent promise to Mitch. But she was Mayweather after all. Luckily she hadn’t picked a side really, in the conflict. A wise choice, for Lucas planned to be utterly merciless to a handful of persons. The cold war they were fighting was about to heat up.

[hider=Diary Entry #4]
Entry 03.01.2015

[i]I had a dream last night. Nothing too out of the ordinary for me, but this dream in particular reminded me of an old friend. Someone who spent many terrifying and dark nights with me, comforting me, wiping my tears away, and telling me everything was going to be okay. If only my father could have known him, they would have been great friends. Both talented, ambitious men. I wonder where he is now and how he's doing... I haven't seen him in years, but I will always remember his wise words and his vivid dreams. He was my shield when I had no one to turn to and I am forever in debt to him. 

I miss him.

As for dad, he's on another business trip and most likely will be gone for an undetermined time. This is just how things are and when he retires, I will take on his projects and help advance the world for the better. For protection of supers and humans alike. We can only dream, right? 

At times, I feel like my dad cares too much... and carries the world on his shoulders, but I guess we need more people like him. No one else is going to care, so my father feels obligated to. The middle man. Whether it's between the corrupted and the zealots or the powered and the underestimated, he is there to help make positive change. I just want to make him proud. I want to make them both proud. Masters in their own art and the ones who make me want to do better. I [b]have[/b] to make them proud. 
[/i] 

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[/hider]
To miss someone. Lucas fell silent. His almost trademarked grin fell off his face. Like a porcelain mask, it shattered into a thousand pieces as he felt his heart shrink. He knew the pain too well. But most of all he knew what being all alone felt like. Loneliness was such a poisonous feeling. It creeps in your bones, veins and eventually in your heart. You stare at the sky and the ground. Dreading or hoping, or maybe a little bit of both, that someone would pick you up. Some fall in the chasm. They wallow in their solitude. Built walls high up to shield themselves. It all starts so simply: by missing someone. But it can end in closing yourself off to the world.

[hider=Diary Entry #6]
Entry 03.17.2015

[i]Wow. That moment you realize the only people you have in your life are related by blood. Everyone else could care less about you. They judge you based on what they read off of Twitter or based on what he said, she said. I'm kind of glad Brenna made our fellow classmates cautious to approach me. They praise her, while I stay on the sidelines. Sure, she made the guy notice her but now that I think about it, she saved me from opening my heart to someone who could easily hurt me. 

Love is for fools. 

I'm barely willing to make friends. Some being an exception, like Mitch, who I've known for as long as I can remember. I reread past passages in my first journal, and this journal, and I've come to terms that... my existence is kind of pathetic. My childhood has made me so afraid and angry at people. I don't want to invest my heart, whole heart, in someone, because they say they care, that they want to be there for me, that they're here to listen to what I have to say... they're lying. 

They always lie. 

With my luck, I know it'll end bad or they'll disappear! Disappear like... my old friend. I don't want to invest time and effort into others because all they do is use and abuse my kindness. What's the point of having friends, when without hesitation they will push you in the corner and try to hurt you? They will use your words against you. They will take advantage of your already lost heart. They will leave you. 

I'm tired of the hurt. I would rather be lonely and read beautiful fictional stories, then deal with people who are solely out for themselves. People say they care, but really, they don't. Fine. I'll stop caring. I might be a hero, but I will be a hero for myself, not for anyone else. They don't care about me, why should I? I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, I really do, but time and time again, they prove to me that we as a whole are not meant for paradise. We are better at our worst. 

Love is stupid. 

Who needs it anyways?[/i] 

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[/hider]
At the end, Lucas slammed the journal close. It was becoming too much. Simple, short sentences were becoming his undoing. How could it? That he could see himself in her now? A month ago they were arch enemies. Now, now he understood her. The diary, the one thing he wanted to use as a weapon against her, had turn itself against him. Her words somehow made him understand her life and her actions. Even more, it summoned up memories he repressed for over 2 years now. He was visibly shaking but kept his eyes closed. His mind forced him to relive that one day as the same sentences echoed through his skull: ‘Love is for fools. Love is stupid.’ Someone as old as him should call it childish, teenage behavior. But he couldn’t. Instead, his head started torturing him again like it did so long ago. The pain from back then rippled over him, causing to shake.

But then it stopped. His body seized trembling. He felt calm. When he opened his eyes he was floating in space. The dark shroud was all around him, speckled with silver. But in front of him burned a sphere. The sun. Not the tiny circle one could see from Earth but a massive globe taking up Lucas’ entire vision. The black and yellow spots danced over the surface as arcs formed hundreds of kilometers over its surface. Lucas knew that, under normal circumstances, he should have been blind. In fact, he shouldn’t even be alive. The sheer heat and radiation that the sun so willingly burned should have vaporized him in an instance. But it didn’t. He didn’t feel anything but a soft warmth embracing him. His mind was, for the first time in a long time, truly serene. Looking down at the book, he noticed how he loosened his grip subconsciously. He was as much releasing it as it was releasing him. For with every second, the torturous pain that flowed through him ebbed away. As the journal moved away from him, millimeter by millimeter, he could sense the thoughts get pushed back. His memories were being oppressed once more. They vanished from his conscious mind, driven towards his subconscious and beyond.

He was forgetting it. The journal started burning on the edges. The white paper slowly turning into black ash. Lucas’ mind went from calm and serene to frantic, grabbing the journal and pulling it close again. The comfortable warmth turned to painful heat. As quickly as it all happened, it vanished again. When he opened his eyes. He was sitting on his bed again, strapping the journal to his chest. For a second he thought he daydreamed it all. A true mark of getting more sleep. But when he examined the journal, its edges were still black and scorched. 

It returned to the fake ceiling. Where it would remain for a long time. When the ceiling tile was put in place, Lucas collapsed onto his bed. His mind repressed the memories again but it only made room to think about Eliana. Or, more specifically, his own kinship with her. Hurt and harmed by those they loved. Abandoned and left alone. He was lucky. If not for a handful of person, he’d be roaming the dark still. Lashing out at everything and everyone. The realization came with a newfound emotion. Compassion.

Surrendering to his wandering thoughts he just kicked back and opened his laptop. A few days ago the new battery finally arrived so he was eager to get back to the online land of the living. Of course, his phone had been a substitute but it could never entirely replace his trusted vault of knowledge. His bags were nearly finished, so he reckoned he could stroll through the internet a bit…