Jack found the Drenched Woman at the docks, same as always. The air around her shimmered. It was thick with the stench of saltwater and despair.
At the moment, the Drenched Woman's translucent fingers were outstretched. Her target was a thin, shivering dockworker. He huddled near a stack of crates, doing his job, unaware of the upcoming doom.
Jack looked at the dockworker. He was still young. But, his face was gaunt. His cough ragged. And his eyes held the hollow look of someone already halfway to the grave. He was a pitiful man, targeted by a terrifying dead woman.
Jack moved in close. A spectral ghost trying to be a protector.
"Clarisse Willow!" He growled, his voice a distorted echo. "Enough!"
She didn't react. Just kept dripping, a terrible, horrifying fountain of grief. Her empty eyes was still locking on the pitiful man. Water began to coalesce around him, forming a suffocating bubble.
Jack didn't waste time. He unleashed [Nightmare Shapeshift].
The dockworker screamed, not at the water created by the Drenched Woman. But at another thing. He screamed at the vision Jack forced into his mind – a monstrous, tentacled thing rising from the depths. The thing's eyes burned with malevolent hunger.
The man collapsed, paralyzed by terror.
The Drenched Woman faltered. Her watery shroud was momentarily disrupted.
Jack pressed his advantage. He used [Poltergeist's Telekinesis] to shove the dockworker out of the danger zone. He sent him sprawling onto the cobblestones.
"Stop this!" Jack roared, using [Banshee's Requiem] to amplify the sound. A sonic blast of pure dread echoed through the docks.
The Drenched Woman didn't flinch. She simply refocused on Jack. And then she charged.
Their powers collided. Nightmare versus Misery. A clash of the ethereal nightmare and the intangible suffocation.
Jack threw visions at her: Morden Kane, laughing as he pushed her into the sea; his friends, leering with cruel intent.
The Drenched Woman didn't acknowledge them. She simply plowed through. Her rage was a wall of pure, unadulterated hate.
The suffocating seawater started to seep into Jack's ethereal form. It shouldn't work. But he coughed. He let out a pathetic sound like the rustling of dry leaves.
It burned. The curse was a cold, visceral ache that threatened to tear him apart.
Jack retaliated with [Nightmare Shapeshift]. Jack tried to create a vision of a peaceful afterlife. He tried to show her a serene field of flowers bathed in sunlight.
But he failed. He created the illusion. But it had no power. It was not a nightmare. He could only empower nightmare. He could not amplify a good dream,
Jack tried to force other nightmares into her mind. He showed her the pain suffered by her torturers. He showed her wailing Morden Kane and his friends. But she rejected it. Violently.
The vision shattered. What left behind was only the cold, hard reality of her pain.
The Drenched Woman slammed her curse into him, a tidal wave of sorrow and anger. Jack staggered back. His form flickered.
More seawater flooded him, choking him, weighing him down. He was losing. Her raw, unbridled power was overwhelming him. It slowly but surely would defeat him.
He focused. He drew on the dregs of his energy. He had to break through. He had to find some flicker of humanity. He had to discover some spark of the woman she once was.
He dug deep within the Drenched Woman's mind. He forced himself to relive her memories. Not in her mind, but in his mind.
He tried to feel her pain. The terror of the assault. The pain of the betrayal. The cold grip of the water. The utter despair as her lungs filled.
He felt it all. It was a crushing weight that threatened to consume him.
And in that moment of shared suffering, he saw it. A flicker. A brief, fleeting glimpse of the girl she used to be. A smile. A laugh. A dream of a simple life. It was faint, almost imperceptible. But it was there.
That's it. Jack tried to used it. But he faltered. It was not a nightmare. He couldn't use it.
No! Another insight flashed in Jack's mind. It was indeed not a nightmare for Clarisse Willow. But it was a nightmare for the current Drenched Woman.
He seized on it. He amplified it with all his power. He projected the vision of her former self. He pushed the vision of her vulnerable and innocent past into her mind. He bombarded her with memories of joy, of love, of hope.
He did not do that to make Clarisse Willow happy. That would not be a nightmare. No! He did that to torture the current Drenched Woman. To make her suffer. To make her regret.
The Drenched Woman screamed. A sound of pure agony tore through the night. She thrashed on the air. She was fighting against the memories. She was clinging to her hate.
But the light of the nightmare was too strong. It pierced through her darkness. It burned away the layers of rage and despair.
For a moment, just a moment, Clarisse Willow was there. Her eyes, no longer empty, were filled with tears.
She looked at Jack. And in that single glance, he saw understanding, regret, and a plea for release.
Jack intensified his power of nightmare with all he got. The heavenly vision of the innocent past. The peaceful sound of the church choir. The gentle caress of soothing breeze.
Those aspects of beautiful dream... were used like a blunt axe. As a nightmare. Aimed at the Drenched Woman with full power.
Then, with a final, heart-wrenching sob, the Drenched Woman dissolved. The water receded. The chill in the air was dissipated. There was nothing left, but the echo of her pain. And the lingering scent of saltwater.
Jack stood there, exhausted and drained. His form was barely holding together. He had won. But the victory felt hollow.
He had sent a tormented soul to whatever awaited her. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her in some way.
He scanned the surrounding and saw that the dockworker was gone.
Thus, he vanished from the docks. He was back to his usual activity, roaming the city of suffering.
He didn't know how he would find his next target. But he knew that he should continue on his path. Faceless Jack will be there to deal vengeance to the wicked.