There's nothing quite like the inside of your own mind. Some people, faced with the most depraved depths of hell, would tread forward without hesitation. Yet, even for them, many times the vilest circumstance to approach was not the demons around you, but the demons within you. For Merlin, who'd experienced the worst out there, it wasn't that different.
The vigilante lifestyle was exciting and liberating; no-one to answer to, no-one to look out for. Live for the people, without being tied down by their laws. In a way, it was a bit of a superiority-complex ridden profession. Merlin wasn't a very boastful person. He was laid-back and generous, living a nomadic lifestyle where he aims was to help people in need as he traveled around the world--and that's exactly what he did. It was a fulfilling way of life, and the prime method of distraction from parts of himself he didn't want to confront. But you can't run away from everything forever. Especially if what you're running from is yourself.
The tribulations Merlin was currently struggling with were relatively simple, with little impact to the world around him; however, for a crusader of good such as himself, it was the most damning: cognitive dissonance. Merlin, true to his heart, did his best to pursue goodness, everywhere he went, in everything he did. But to just one man, "good" was a relative term. As a vigilante, more often than not, he acted as the judge, jury, and executioner. His hands weren't clean, but he justified his actions in the name of good, and acted only one what his own eyes saw. Merlin may have acted on evil on his own terms, but he wasn't naive. Well, maybe he was. It was hard, trying to tell. He needed some perspective.
The blonde sat on the floor, his back resting on the wall of a narrow alleyway. It wasn't a very attractive resting area, but staying in the dark helped to calm him down. For someone with his moral alignment, it was an odd preference, probably inherited from the more torturous days of his life, locked away in some underground area with no light. He spent so much time in the shadows that they felt native to him, enough to help clear his head. Clearing his head didn't clear his heart, however; there was still this soreness in his chest. Merlin put his hands to his face, covering his eyes in his palms in frustration."What kind of hero am I, that just this much gets me down."