The tall lighthouse that once guided so many ships to a safe harbor now stood a great dark mass against the clear sky. Below its dull, dusty windows, the sole occupant of that once-loved monument trudged through the deserted streets of St. Canard. The brightly-colored suit he wore bore no resemblance to his innermost ponderings, though the deceiving costume cast an aura of light as its colors shone on the damp, shimmering pavement. Darkness, for the time being, could not touch him.

This wandering spirit had no destination in mind, though he sought to find some haven in which to escape himself, or to find the elusive thing he searched for. What was this strange object? What longing could eat away at his hardened heart so? Perhaps it was some long-forgotten memory, or a need too long suppressed under the tough exterior of villainy.

He walked on, not looking where he was going, nor seeing anything but the pavement beneath his hunched shoulders. He was not alert to the subtle tugging of his instinct. He merely followed where his subconscious chose to lead him.

Fate dealt its cards, and the villain’s subconscious led him right into the path of another lonely wanderer. So closely were their two paths linked, and so careless was the manner in which each trod them, that they bumped right into each other.

The girl was sent sprawling backwards, more out of surprise at being suddenly jolted out of her melancholy reverie than out of weakness. She turned a prideful glare at the stranger.

“Watch where you’re going!” she hissed.

Megavolt had also been startled back, though not enough to be knocked over. “You watch where you’re going!” he answered out of habit. Then he looked at her, and was shocked yet again to discover that what he had run into was not, in fact, a lamp post or stray prostitute, as it often was. The object that had so inconsiderately gotten in his way was a way-worn female child, approximately 12 years of age. Stranger still, her face and figure bore a strange resemblance to his own. Without fully knowing why he did so, he offered his hand to help her up.

The girl accepted his help hesitantly. Once on her feet again, she clutched her neon-pink backpack to her chest, watching the villain curiously. She, too, noticed how alike they were.

“I know you,” Megavolt said.

“Oh.” A statement or a question? In any case, the girl was not afraid. Megavolt found that somehow unsettling.

“What are you doing out on the streets so late at night?”

“Same thing you are, I suppose.” Her answer seemed almost to mock his need to ask. She added, in a slightly softer tone, “Searching.”

“For what?” The villain was becoming intrigued by the mysterious sprite.

“For…” She stumbled over her own thoughts in search of a way to express them. What came out surprised them both. “For a man who is lightening and thunder in one, and a place that is sunlight once night has begun. For a life filled with metal (not silver or gold), and a story long after all stories are told.” The rhyme had bubbled up from some deep abyss of memory. The girl was sure now more than ever that this was no chance meeting in the night.

Her stranger was even surer. His eyes widened as he asked a question he hardly dared to utter: “Mina?”

“I… I do know you…” Her head whirled with indecision. To be frightened and on guard, or grateful and curious? She could not know. So she pushed the question from her mind and studied the face that mirrored her own in expression. Her eyes narrowed as she strained to reach back into the far-off box that had held that childhood rhyme. Colors and shapes shifted through, each as strange and haunting as the next. The answer came to her all at once.

“Elmo!” she exclaimed, her voice dancing with joy she was reluctant to express. “Elmo, is it you?” His smile was enough to answer. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Elmo, I’m so glad it’s you! I was so afraid… it’s been days… maybe weeks… since I…” She seemed ready to burst into tears, but Megavolt would have none of that until they were safe.

“Shh…” Megavolt put his hands onto his young cousin’s shoulders. “Come on. The streets are not place for you.” They walked hand-in-hand back to the lighthouse.