บท 27: - Peter

**Peters point of view**

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." – William Shakespeare.

How do you define good from evil? We've all heard the epics about the great Hercules, Robin Hood and Batman. We've been taught, that they are heroes. That they risk their lives, to save ours – the common folks.

Hercules, also known as the son of Zeus, is portrayed as a heroic figure in Greek culture. The story we've been told elaborates how he endured many trials, and completed many daunting tasks, but somehow still never got his reward for his suffering.

Did you know, that parts of the story you've been told, is a lie? If I told you, that Hercules was a murderer, would you believe me?

I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't.

But it so happens, to be true. Hera plagued Hercules with uncontrollable madness, and as a result of her terrors, he murdered his wife and three sons.

Tragic.

Robin Hood? Not as psychotic as our demi-god listed above, but something about him still caught my attention. Sure, he's a hero in that sense, that he steals from the rich to give to the poor. But for what cause? Is he sincere about his actions, and do he get an actual joy from committing crimes?

Or is he performing a selfish act, where stealing is the only thing, that keeps him sane? Being goodhearted is such an easy disguise to wear, and yet so unbelievably easy to reveal. Especially if you've been taught by the FBI.

And finally, but not least - Batman. Bruce Wayne, the persona behind Batman is charitable, no doubt. But with all the money he spends on gadgets, he should be able to clean out a larger portion of Gotham's issues, especially regarding the city's rampant corruption problem.

But it so happens, that Batman needs disarray so he can fulfill that empty part of him, that he lost when his parents died. He needs to be needed. And dangerous things can happen to a man, who has an empty heart.

Something that all these three gentlemen has in common is, that they all have parent-complexes. Hercules father, Zeus, was a cruel tyrant. Not only did he terrorize the mortals, he also didn't flinch at using bloody violence, if it gave him what he wanted.

Zeus didn't want to settle with one partner, so Hercules himself, was a bastard. Hercules real mother, Alcmene, was tricked into sleeping with Zeus, because he took on the appearance of her husband Amphitryon.

Pretty cruel, right?

Robin Hood's parents died when he was young.

And Batman – well I don't know if it'll be of any surprise by now, but his parents also died. His parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne was murdered by a mugger right in front of Bruce, who later on, becomes Batman, the ''hero.'' And who killed his parents?

The Joker.

The Joker is a man, who commits unspeakable evil, in order to do ultimate good. And Batman is a man, who commits heroic deeds to cause unspeakable evil. None of them can ever win, or lose.

They need each other to function, just as Hercules would never be born, if his father wasn't a cheating trickster. Robin Hood would never sympathize with the poor, if he wasn't poor himself.

I sympathize with the Joker. I understand him. He has been tortured all his life, being at the bottom of the food chain. No one wanted him, no one helped him, and no one loved him. Who's the real villain in his story – him, the system, or his mother, who wanted to keep him from sanity?

If he got help, if someone loved him, then he wouldn't have the same empty heart as Batman, and he wouldn't need to kill to fill it out. Can you blame him for trying?

I see myself as a mixture between the heroes, and the villains. I was raised in a foster home, because my parents didn't want me.. They dropped me off at a foster home in Manhattan, and never looked back, as they drove away from the crib, where I was laying in the falling snow. At least they had the decency to cover me, with a blanket. I was one

Foster homes aren't great, to say the least. Being the ''youngsters'', meaning, the ones who grew up inside the system, was picked on, by the ''new ones', meaning those, who remembers their families.

The new ones often came from abusive families, and therefore they had a lot of anger. My face was a better target, than a wall. So I quickly learned how to protect myself from the bullies.

Unfortunately, I wasn't one of the stronger boys growing up. But I was smart. And being smart shows more strength than muscles.

When I was eight, I got my hands on my first computer. It stood inside an internet café down the street from my foster home. At that point in my life, the purest joy I'd find, was to put my fingers on the keyboard. There was some strange connection between me, and the device in front of me, whom I knew, was the key to all the knowledge I needed, to survive.

So I quickly learned, with help from an old tech-nerd named James, how to use a computer. And I was good. Brilliant, really.

By the age of fourteen, I managed to hack my way into the federal governments database. The poor souls must have had some interesting conversations with their wives, by the dinner table the night they found me.

They quickly found my IP address, and within thirty minutes after the hacking attack, thirty men broke into the internet café, where they found me, a fourteen year old punk, and James. Who was eighty years old, at the time.

When they realized that I was the anonymous hacker, they gave me an opportunity, that I'll cherish, always. If I agreed to work for them, they would give me a home, a family and money. I knew it would happen. That's why I gave myself away so easily, by not deleting my IP address from their system.

I agreed on two of the three gifts they had for me. So I got a new home, far away from the bullies, and I got money. But I didn't need a family.

As Jones arrived, we all seated inside the living room. I could tell that Naomi was rather nervous by his presence. I may not know her well – yet, but I'm good at reading people.

She kept fixing her hair, and chuckled each time he spoke, as silent as she could – but I still noticed.

''So, Jones..'' Naomi said, as she seated across from him at the table. ''Any suggestions on how to save my best friend?''

I like how fast forward she is. I don't meet people like Naomi very often, and she keeps me on guard. She amazes me, and yet by the same time, she terrifies me. I feel less in control, when I'm with her. And that worries me, and my mission.

Jones sat, with his fingers intertwined and contemplated an answer. He's quite the opposite from Naomi. He doesn't speak before he has the right answer – and he's not a man of few words, but a man of many right ones.

''I think they've already left the country, to be honest. Lorenzo is from Palermo, so my guess would be to look there first.'' He replied, as he lighted a cigarette. I don't usually like it, when people smoke inside my home, but Jones isn't someone you'd want to argue with.

''What? She called me yesterday! Do you think..'' Naomi paused for a second, and I could see that her lips trembled a little. ''Do you think that she's in Italy right now?'' she stammered.

''Yes. I have already contacted someone from the Italian government, who'll setup a search warrant. Don't worry Naomi, I'm sure she's fine.'' He said, as he took another drag of his cigarette. I caught Naomi staring intensely at the smoke he blew out, that was dancing between the three of us.

''Stop saying that she's fine! None of you-'' she pointed at both me and Jones, before she continued –''knows how she is.''

I may be a good people reader, but I wasn't able to detect if Jones was impressed or annoyed. He frowned, and threw his cigarette in a glass with water, right beside him.

''Look – I know that you want to find her, and believe me, so do we. And we work for the FBI, and not some sloppy secondhand agency, so unless you want to lose her completely, I'd suggest that you stay calm and listen.'' He steadily replied.

Naomi turned her head to look at me, and her eyes was searching for something in mine. I remember, that it was the same look she gave me at the club, last Friday. Her eyes shows a neediness, and a strange urge for approvement, that I can't seem to keep my eyes from. But I shouldn't have kissed her that Friday. It kept me from my mission.

You see, I was so close to finding her. I've spent five years looking for her, and as I finally find her, Lorenzo fucking Mancini takes her away from me.

And what's the moral of my story? I'm not a hero, and I'm no villain either. But I do have a hole in my heart, that needs to be filled. And I have done bad things to get there. I have told lies, and I have committed unspeakable crimes.

Would you define me as good or evil, if I told you, that I didn't go to the club to find Lorenzo. I went, to find Adrena.

Would you define me as a hero, or a villain, if I told you, that the girl who Naomi so dearly wants to be found, Is someone I've been missing my whole life?

Not only is Adrena missing, and in terrible danger.

She's also my sister.