Hundreds of millions of miles away, and several hours later, Kinson began his day alight with fresh thoughts. His conversation with Celeste had opened up a whole new world to him, dispelling the depressed state he had found himself in. Before he was even fully awake, he got online and began to search for local deathdreamers. Perhaps they would have a corpse or two he could use.
Unfortunately, it was an extremely unpopular profession, and he ended up with a list of only a couple people. Fast forward a few calls, and he was left empty handed. Most deathdreamers worked in the professional world, and wouldn't just allow a kid to attempt to walk in a deathdream. Apparently, the liability was too great. As each number was crossed off the lines each grew darker and more jagged. Despite his frustration, Kinson kept his cool. There was still another idea he could try. It would be better to wait for dark, though.
That night, Kinson left his apartment, walking through the halls which still glowed with full light. Waiting till dark was a Terran saying, and didn't apply in a place where the day-night cycle was irrelevant. Although the mood was spoiled, Kinson managed to make it to the local graveyard without accident.
The graveyards on titan were unlike those of Terra. The vast majority of corpses were cremated soon after a short service, while only a wealthy few would afford a grave plot. Still, many of those with enough wealth were powerful psionics. There was a good chance that at least one of them generated a deathdream.
He stepped off the autoways, and found himself before a large glass door. Inside, he could see a small grassy plot, reminiscent of a park, complete with flowers and a small grove of trees. It was unlocked, and led immediately onto a cobblestone path which traversed the cherry meadow. Kinson frowned. This was hardly the mood for midnight ghost hunting.
He sat down in the grove, which was situated in the center of the graveyard. Gravestones of diverse structure and unique inscriptions were placed spiraling out from him in intricate patterns. Whatever contractor built this place certainly had a flair for design. One he passed was literally carved as a western dragon, with a small fountain springing out of its mouth. The ensuing stream carved it's way around the nearby graves before entering a pipe at the statues curled tail.
Kinson closed his eyes, opening his soul to the area around him. His face curved into a smile as he felt the resonations of several deathdreams about him. Some faintly tugged at him, while others practically called his soul to them. Although he intended to take a risk, Kinson had no intention of choosing a deathdream with a strong psionic soul. Obviously, a strong soul would mean a more traumatic end. Most souls didn't form a deathdream if they died from old age, after all.
He allowed himself to be drawn towards a deathdream with a capacity that rivaled his own. Someone of this rank would likely have been murdered, and not by anyone particularly powerful, either. That's what the records he had gone through indicated, at least.
As he was pulled into the Soul Space, Kinson resisted the suction into the deathdream itself. The pull strengthened, but as they were only around class three, he was able to remain outside the deathdream as it formed. After a time, the deathdream formed, and Kinson was able to experience what it meant to watch a deathdream for the first time.
After the deathdream concluded, Kinson remained seated with his eyes closed. He found the deathdream once more, then entered it once more. Again, he simply allowed himself to observe the deathdream. It was much more comfortable this time and the pull was barely noticeable.
After exiting a second time, Kinson entered it once more. This time, he practically slid into the deathdream, but chose to follow the suction. Within the darkness, a strong force pressed on him, trying to erase his memories. His hard work was not simply for show, though, and he found the pressure nothing compared to his arduous torture with Rachel. His will was so domineering that his memories hadn't even begun to materialize around him by the time the deathdream formed.
Kinson appeared in a filthy, small side passage, a smile already on his lips. Glancing down, he saw he wore a tattered hoodie with scuffed jeans. Casual, but not too far from his regular garb. In his hand, he clutched a baseball bat, one that had been dented from countless collisions, and bleached with age. A disturbing brown color stained the top half, or so. As a slight surprise, Kinson's body matched his current one in real life, set with muscles which showed the results of his strenuous physical training. It seemed his soul's form changed as he did.
"Kinson, you ready to rock?" A scratchy voice called beside him, making him jump.
He turned, and saw a kid not much older than he was. Naturally, Kinson recognized the dirty blond hair and glassy, dilated eyes. The kid's arms were crossed, his hands empty. However, Kinson knew there was a knife in his worn, combat boot. A thrill of uncertainty flicked through Kinson, but he quickly suppressed it.
"Sure. What do we have going on?" he replied coolly.
The kid chuckled, a cheap, ugly sound. "There's this girl a few blocks over. Had a bit too much to drink, if you know what I mean. She looked lonely. Why don't we accompany her home?"
Kinson nodded, although he had already known that. The blonde kid's face twisted in a demented sort of smile. He turned and disappeared down the passage. Kinson followed, his fingers tight around the bat in his hand.
The lights flickered throughout the side passages they traveled through. It was a poorly maintained part of town, and not one Kinson had believed existed in Colony.
He stopped as his partner froze, just shy of a corner. The blonde head poked around, then withdrew and glanced at Kinson, that horrible grin still on his face. The dim light reflected just enough of his eyes for Kinson to know he was mad.
"There she is," he hissed, gesturing around the corner. "Stay back here and watch for anyone trying to interfere.
Kinson nodded, a lump forming in his throat. As the kid darted around the corner, he glanced around the nearby passages, but found them deserted. He already knew no one would be coming to help. He hefted the bat, swinging it around softly. Just as he decided to follow, a shrill shriek echoed around the corner. Now!
Kinson stepped around the corner, bat already aiming for a spot about four feet from the wall, six inches below eye level. A blonde head came into view, but that snapped backward the instant his bat connected with it. His target released a hideous scream, then flipped backward, crashing into the wall. Kinson straightened from his follow-up position and glanced at a grisly sight. The thug lay spread out over the wall, body still twitching. Blood splashed from the fissure in his skull, spewing out over the girl he still held in one arm. The listless eyes had dulled forever.
"You're alright. I've got you," Kinson said, holding out his hand toward her.
He frowned when she didn't take it. Reaching down, he threw the thug off her, then stumbled back in shock. Blood spilled all over her body, spurting out of her neck. A pocket knife lay buried to the hilt in her throat. Kinson didn't need to look at it to know there was an inscription on the handle, which read, "courage is doing the right thing for the right reason."
Horrified, Kinson half-collapsed against the wall. His vision swam, and dry heaves shook his body. The smell of blood clogged his nostrils, making him desperately suck in air between retches. Only after he had calmed down did he recall the thug had stopped her by holding a knife at her throat.
That small detail continued to wrack his body with shivers and his mind with guilt. Although it felt like an eternity, it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before the deathdream dissolved, landing Kinson in darkness. However, instead of the Soul Space, this directly returned him to his body in the real world.
Kinson stared listlessly at a gravestone in front of him. A single tear leaked down his cheek, and after he unconsciously brushed it away, he stared at his hand and wondered why it was wet. After a few more deep breaths, Kinson managed to comfort himself. She had already died, anyway. He had hoped to prevent the horror this time around, but it didn't make any difference that it had been a failure. His hope renewed, Kinson closed his eyes and searched for the deathdream once more. This time, he would do it right.
To his dismay, he found the deathdream a bare shadow of itself, fading as he watched. He recalled the state of the other deathdreams after he walked into them, and frowned. It would seem walking in a deathdream depleted its energy.
As Kinson thought this, another thought crossed his mind. Why hadn't there been a soul space? He had looked forward to talking with the girl. Did he miss something? It was the energy released by the dying soul which empowered and rejuvenated him, so there wouldn't be a point in deathdreaming if he couldn't enter the soul space.
After giving it some thought, Kinson couldn't come up with anything. Shaking the shadows from his heart, he straightened up and closed his eyes. There were still plenty of other deathdreams to visit.