Hey everyone! So, I'm moving away from my usual stories to write this one-shot, because it's been nagging at the corner of my mind for a while, like an itch you really just have to scratch. I played inFamous a few months ago, and I kept trying to find the game in stores. Well, I finally came across a store that did, so I bought it. So, I've decided to write this to finally get that itch scratched. Here's the story, from Cole's point of view.

I'm at Ground Zero, standing in the very same spot I was when the explosion ripped through Empire City. Kessler is dead at my feet, and I can't stop shaking. The things he showed me… the things I allowed to happen… I fall to my knees, leaning over his wrinkled face. Based on what he showed me and what John's Dead Drops had said, the man had to be at least a hundred and ten. I can't even recognize any of his features, and yet, they're mine. My head feels like it's splitting open, both from the memories foisted on me and the lack of energy our fight left me with. My hand subconsciously grabs onto a torn and sparking wire, draining it completely dry. My headache slowly lessens to a dull ache, before even that disappears as I adjust to the memories.

I somehow manage to stand, and feel that I should give him… myself… some kind of burial. Not much I can do, but if I run some of my power, I could probably cremate him. I manage to find a gas can, and I pour some of it on him, before pouring some on the ground trailing away. When the can is empty, I toss it aside. A spark dances forth on my fingers, and I allow it to fall on the gas by my feet. It catches almost instantly, racing back to Kessler before consuming him in a halo of fire. I stand, watching the flames, and one of my memories comes back to me. It was simple; Trish and I were sitting on the couch in her apartment, watching some chic-flick. The main character was dying, and was telling her husband how she wanted her ashes spread on the cliff where they first kissed. Trish asked me how I would want my own ashes spread if I was ever cremated, and I told her that I would want them thrown into the wind from the tallest building in Empire City.

Kessler is nothing but ash now and I think, He is me. Why not? I shrug my pack off my shoulder, and scoop his remains into it, before zipping it. I leave the crater, and I climb onto the train tracks I find a few minutes later. I surf the rails, comforted by the now-familiar crackle of electricity. I have to hop onto a couple of electric wires and other tracks, but I finally reach the building. I start to climb, feeling the familiar exertion I learned, mastered, in New Marais. Sweat dots my brow, but I keep moving up, until I'm finally at the top. I manage to balance myself and sit down, opening up the bag. I stare at the ashes inside. I remember his last words, announcing his love to Trish, and I suddenly find myself able to accept that this stranger, this seemingly madman, was me. He had done the best he could to try and make amends for a mistake that I know I would have, and did, make.

I flip the bag as the wind picks up, and as the ashes fall, the breeze catches them, and I watch them dance through the pale blue sky.

The reason I learned Urban Exploration, free-running, Parkour, whatever you wanna call it, is because I always had one dream as a kid; I wanted to fly.

Watching Kessler's ashes, a feeling of content permeates through me.

I finally flew.

Well, there you are. Hope you liked it. Review please. Zeratide, out.