The first change came subtly, so subtly that only those that knew him might notice. He hid, in the city, to get some time to himself. That was the first thing he did when the change came, because even in the context of his time on the ship, it didn't change who and what he was.

His memory of fighting Superboy Prime was gone, his memory of rising to the call in the Crisis was gone, his decision to just...be a hero despite his origins was gone. So was Raven's trying to snap him out of it, her showing him he had a soul...

He was a monster, the flesh and blood equivalent of a machine, programmed for evil. That was his purpose in life, to hurt people--to hurt one of the people he cared for and looked up to more than anyone else in the world.

Everything he'd done on the ship was a joke anyway. How much good had he actually done?

Now what he remembered from before the ship was hiding on the farm, giving up the tights, and he was disgusted with himself for trying to be a hero again on Stacy. He'd arrived at the thought with a snap of horrible comprehension. What had he been thinking trying to be a hero again? What had he been thinking telling Luthor the truth, challenging him like that? His Luthor had already destroyed who he was and who he'd tried to be before he'd ever tried to be it, and this one was going to do the same, bring everything he cared about down around his ears.

What was wrong with him?

It was confusing, having his ship-time conflict with his time back home, and in the new context he had for it, his time on the ship was a slap to the face and the fuel for something of a breakdown, like he'd been faking that he was okay all this time, and only just now relapsing to who he really was: a broken-down biological machine that dared to think it was a person. How was he going to explain all this to the other Superboy? How was he going to tell him that he wasn't a person? Why had he even been planning on being nice and showing him the ropes like it meant something when he knew the truth? Neither of them were people. Neither of them had a soul.

"What's wrong with you?!" he screamed at himself. "What were you thinking?"

He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have pretended to be a hero again. He shouldn't have pretended to be something he so clearly wasn't.

He didn't deserve friends, he didn't deserve people that cared about him. He didn't deserve freedom. He wasn't a person. Only people deserved those things.

That was why he was sitting there on the stoop of some old building, shaking, trying to figure out how to convince Kal and Leon and the rest to lock him away for good. Apparently, he was gonna die in some Crisis thing, right? That was the best he could hope for. They could lock him up, and he could go back after all this, after their worlds were restored, and fight one last fight, and die doing some good before he could ever hurt anyone else again. Except he was supposed to get revived, right? Well, he'd find out a way to make sure that didn't happen.

The part of him that'd gotten over all this stuff on the ship, however, was questioning why he felt that way, was disobedient voice buzzing in the back of his head telling him all the self-loathing was wrong.

"What's wrong with me?" Kon whispered to himself, burying his face in his knees, shaking shaking shaking.

There was something missing that he couldn't put words to, because he didn't even realize it was gone: a decision to move on with his life.

A decision to have a life.


[ooc: Closed until this note says otherwise (Some parts will be closed, others will be open.)]

Shortly after returning from XaXing, Fletcher went to meet up with Sam; he'd finally figured out that that was who Jujube had been staying with while he'd been podded. The little dog was all too happy to return to his master. He still didn't particularly like vampires.

So now, Fletcher returned to his and Russel's room, puppy in tow. "Hey, Brother?" he said as he stuck his head into the room. "There's someone you need to meet."

Another day in the Overlord's Fortress.

Today, Zetta sat in his throne lazily, feet up on the most freaking sweet ottoman in creation, grinding out a few levels of the freaking sweet new game he'd picked up on XaXing (Nuclear Death Apocalypse Extravaganza: The Annihilation of All Mankind: Tactics) on his freaking 99" widescreen TV.

Yeah, he'd gone pretty wild at XaXing, to judge from the various tapestries and banner's now hanging on the walls, the statues positioned in key places around the fortress courtyard, the sapling planted in one corner that visibly distorted time around it, and various and sundry other luxury goods.

Oh yeah, and he apparently had a body. What's up with that?

[[OOC: So, uh, since Zetta's de-age is, as noted, as subtle as the Overlord himself, and we don't want an obvious reveal too soon, it would be appreciated if any characters who wander by not run off to tell lots of important people quite yet. ^.^ ]]

Because whoever it was? Dean wanted to punch them in the face. Bad enough there was some drunk bearded guy in a ratty old robe writing about his and Sam's lives. But there's people actually writing even more stories about them.

Together. Doing stuff. To each other.

Pondering this particular revelation had Dean tearing through items in the Media Library just to made sure there was no sign of those damn freaking Supernatural books by 'Carver Edlund' or worse, fan fiction. No, even worse, slash fan fiction.

(ooc: Dean's de-aging is definitely progressing now, but it hasn't got that far to be noticeable. Feel free to point and laugh at the guy freaking at the meta.)

It had taken a meeting with Negi and handing over the keys, but Shiori had a place to herself. True it was the now defunct Atelier Elric, but she kept the name. One of the things she had learned when she had been sent off for school due to Fate’s insistence, was that she learned how to do the basics of magic.

As such, she put a sign up. “Now Re-opened, doing small scale transmutations and potions. Inquire within.”

Shiori hoped this would attract people who were coming near the circle of small shops, and she lit the burner that she had, and began to brew, getting lost in the motions.

With any luck, she wouldn’t have to worry too much about things as she turned on the music player which started in on a fairly nice song, and she began to hum along with it as she set to work, skirt swishing along as she fairly danced about.