En Perpetua

There was once a young boy in a cold and distant tower. Hair white as snow and eyes blue as a glacier, he spent many of his days reading books of adventures had in lands and times of old. He would study both history as well as how to run a business. His mother was often overseas and his grandmother was always with her sister going to galas and events. His crisp attire was made for events he was never allowed to speak at, only observe. When he would seek to see the city, a driver and security detail would be assigned and there was no deviation from the course. No gaffes. No friends, as the common folk were always either leeches or liabilities. That’s what he had been told. An icy cage from which he had to observe the world. He craved stimulation. Meaning beyond a glad bauble, but he dared not act it out. His family was all he had. Any stray action could cost not just him but his entire family everything. All their status and connections and with that their resources would follow. He wou...

 The streets were dark and grey, the pedestrians merely silhouettes as he walked past them. He looked down to avoid eye contact, as he often did, until he saw white footprints glowing brightly on the bleak pavement. Moving to follow them, he stared ahead into the crowd, wondering who he was following. His pace and heart quickened as he felt compelled to chase this mysterious track. Seeing a part in the crowd, there stood a man with hair as white as snow and a suit just as pristine. The piping on his lapels was a pale olive color, his vest a bright orange. His purple tie drew his eye, at least until he matched the man’s gaze. His eyes were gentle but cold. The sort of gaze that built walls instead of inviting in. Still, his tragic smile seemed to warm his whole body. That was until the man’s hand brushed one of the passers by and they scattered like they had been made of ash. As the ashes spread and the scent filled his nose, the others on the street seemed to suffer the same fate. ...

 Cassidy sat quietly in the chair he designed, his legs and left arm held down with titanium restraints and his right hand creating careful diagrams and calculated formulas. His light grey eyes scanned the page for errors of any kind as he ignored the man in the room with him as well as the constant attempts at invasion from Unit 13. Still, Warren waited in silence, figuring he could only sit here so long before the young genuine would ask who he was. Still, as time passed, it became more and more clear that that wasn’t going to happen. Still, Warren waited until the right moment and then spoke, “Titanium but not Tungsten. Are you trying to stop yourself from punching it clear off?” He got seemingly no response, but he pressed on, “It is like that tungsten armor you had them put on 13 am I right? Must have a special effect on it.” Cassidy gripped his pen so hard it broke like glass, shards scattering all over the room. Cassidy didn’t seem willing to speak at first, getting another ...

 Shawn felt the world come back into focus for him. He tried to get his bearings only to pale when he knew exactly where he was. Looking out from this asphalt hill that he used to walk home on all those years ago, he looked out at the city from which he and Anisa could see conflicts between costumed heroes and robotic fiends that could use skyscrapers as toothpicks. They would watch from the sidelines, safe in their suburb, making impossible promises of what could be. Just two friends enjoying the spectacle. Shaking the nostalgia out of his eyes, he turned his attention to the finer details. Again, this skill of his seemed to pay off as he began to see the smoothed edges and missing details that seemed to populate before his eyes. Taking a deep breath, the scent of lost summers filled him. Still, more than that, the smell of rubble and dust and the mesquite of human bones. Feeling something watching him, he began to see this new land for what it was and decided that there was only ...

The warehouse was quiet and dark in the early hours of the morning, industrial dust covering most surfaces along with the plastic wrap covering the pallets of goods waiting for their proper destinations. Among these endless shelves, street merchants would hide their most sensitive of illegal goods and even the military could hide secrets in plain sight. The warehouse workers continued their usual routine this day, doing what they were paid to do best, ignoring the activities inside the warehouse. Inside, a group of shady armed figures were standing at either end of a particularly high set of shelves, blocking even visual access to the isles around it. Gavin sighed as he waited in those isles for the inevitable and startling appearance of his customer. And as always, a bright flash of purple flames filled the air and the heat and sound made him jump. The client held her head up in a manner designed to make Gavin feel judged, her harsh eyes piercing her mirrored shades. She bore a promin...

 He was the first, trapped as a passenger on his own wheel. Enslaved to the pattern he had known his whole life. Until the truth was laid bare to him. In that moment, he saw his chains and was the first to truly break free. With blades of light and dark, he cleaved the illusion holding him. Hope and despair became sword and shield to him, ever changing and never stagnant. Curator, Historian, and Director. He is all of these but wears none of them. He conducts the endless symphony and grants power to the powerless. His two hands serve his purpose and to those with a purpose themselves, he gladly shares the stage. -The Master’s Son, Enzul This moment hung, like an actor waiting for its cue. He looked over the chaos, soaking in every face and the journey that had made this moment. He turned to his agents and stated. “From this Superliterary state, do you guys see any pieces missing?” They raised their hands but he ignored them for now. “This moment is where we want to lead, but it is ...