June 30th, 20XII

The world swirls around his head. He's a little dazed from the events that have just transpired. Benjamin Davis is his name and he's just as lost as he could possibly be.

It all began quite some time ago when the man who took him in after he'd lost his parents and almost his life, was killed. Benjamin had been with the man since he was still a very young child and with his master's death he felt obligated to make sure that he'd at least be able to rest in peace. With the goal of returning a stolen memento Davis went left his home in Alaska and began pursuing the murderous thief.

Traveling along the path of his master and father, Davis made it a priority to help any along his route. Due to such kindness he was able to continue on his journey due in most part to the graciousness of those he had helped. Finding tips and hints of the whereabouts of the assailant who brought death upon his home every now and then he found himself running into other masters of the arts similar to the one he was taught. Learning under them and acquiring mystic tools to help in his quest Davis made ever effort to prepare for what was to come.

As a student taught to value all life he had no intention of seeking revenge. He would not kill his father's murderer. Davis just wanted the return of the memento that meant so much to his old man. It would only be by chance that he would find himself in such a predicament. Standing in between a number of dangerous men and one very frightened child. Although his quest was of the utmost importance to him, he could not turn a blind eye to such a disastrous situation.

Davis jumped in. Handling most of the aggressors and eventually freeing the child. He was however caught unawares by the sheer number of attackers. Stumbling a bit and suffering from vertigo he fell to his knees. There was a feeling bursting to the surface. A familiar feeling that he just couldn't place. He tried to focus on recovering as the last of his enemy regrouped. Something had happened and it wasn't good.

Two men grabbed his arms and stood him up on his feet. Davis wasn't scared but that feeling he couldn't place continued to pull at him. He heard a noise and turned his head. Just barley catching a glance he saw that the child didn't make it far. With what little energy he had left he  broke free and took out the remaining guys. Hurting pretty bad he flinched at the pain he felt as the child hugged him. there was something warm dripping down his neck. Hurry the little kid along he turned to the attackers to see if he could find anything to identify the purpose of all that had happened.

Kneeling down to search the pockets of one of the men he heard something ominous. Turning to face it his gaze found refuge in the sights of a shotgun. Before he could even register a reaction he felt his body hit the ground. pain reverberated throughout his body. All he could think of was that feeling that kept nagging at him. It was shame. He felt shame. The same feeling he had once he found the remains of his master.

He felt failure.

July 13th, 20XII

??? World

???:  This is not getting any easier.

???:  Listen Doxson, you're doing something really good here. You're helping people...saving lives!

Doxson:  That may be the case but look at me... my arm's broken and in "Right World" my hands are burned! The sensation shock alone is really messing with my mind. I just don't know if I can continue this Mack.

Mack:  I can't begin to understand how you feel. This is all pretty out there for me as well, and hell, I believe you! It's just that you...you just have this ability and it may be the only way we can stop these guys. Me and the other officers couldn't have come anywhere near this far without your assistance.

Doxson:  I just don't know Officer... what if I can't keep this up?

Officer Mack:  Marshall... don't think of yourself-

Marshall Doxson:  Don't play that card on me Mack! I'm not saying I won't do it. I'm just saying I don't know just how long I'll be able to keep this up.

Officer Mack:  I can understand that but listen Doxson...no, Marshall, listen, ever since New Years it's as if the general populace has lost their minds. Paranoia is rampant and there are just too many people in the crossfire. Just because of some idiotic prophecy every psycho in the state thinks it's a free pass for mayhem and destruction. Ever since the end of the school attacks, targets have become too random to find patterns. We need your help. Can-

Marshall Doxson:  Too many...right.... Just remember the milkshake when I'm done. Vanilla, NOT vanilla bean.

July 23rd, 20XII

Right World:

Marshall Doxson:  Come on...please. I need your help.

???:  No. I, Marshall I don't.... Look, you're a great guy. It's just that these last 3 months have...I don't know. You've just been different. I just don't know who you are anymore. You use to care about things. Schoo! You were doing better and you said you wanted to go to college and everything and...

Doxson:  Iz! Look, I'm sorry. But lets be serious. I just don't know what I want to do with my life. college rates have gone up only because of the increase in unwillingness to train people for there jobs on their jobs. Ha, and there it is. The real reason for this. I NEED A JOB! School's only gotten more expensive and only will continue to do so. How am I supposed to make that work especially since I don't even know what I want to do yet?

Iz:  Look, that's not all there is to it. I mean look at you. You're all beat up... you look like hell. You say you need to find work but, here we are, coming up to the end of the summer and you still don't have a job and instead of searching for one you're here begging me to let you sleep? You're just not trying. I... I just don't think I can handle this. Listen...

Doxson:  Iz...Izzy...Isabel, I already know what you're going to say. There's just so much going on and I wanted, no, I needed someone to be there for me... to be my anchor. If you're saying what I know you're saying then I guess that someone just isn't you. I've been trying so hard to make this work...

Isabel:  Make this work!? Be there for you? Then why won't you tell me the truth?  What happened to you? Why are you wearing an eye patch? How are you so exhausted at 3 in the afternoon? What exactly do you do at night? Why...

Doxson:  You'd never believe a word of it. I can see that now. I'm nineteen years old, jobless, and my life has become f*cked up more than you could even imagine... I guess it's only fitting that I'd lose the one good thing I had in this world.  You probably just think I'm being overly dramatic but... forget it. Listen if it's over it's over. Look I'll always care about you even if you do decide to end, so, f*ck it, whatever okay, goodbye.

Isabel:  *whisper* goodbye.

July 30th, 20XII

???

*explosion*

Marshall Doxson:  What the f*ck!? ...crap, they found me. Dammit! Come on, pick up! Pick. Up. Your. Phone!

???:  ...the caller you are trying to reach is unavail...

Doxson:  Figures! The one time I need you and you're no where to be found!? This is the thanks I get for trying to help!? F*ck the police! There's got to be a way out of this. Gotta get away. Find somewhere to store my body and wait all this out in "Right World."

???:  Yo! I see something over here. I think it's the traitor!

???:  Lets show that b*tch why we're called the "Twelve Devils"!

Doxson:  Sh*t! Gotta get outta "Left World" now!

July 31st, 20XII

Right World

Marshall Doxson:  I don't believe this...

???:  Marshie we're doing this for you.

???:  Yes, Marshall, your mother's right. We love you son. And we're doing this because you need help.

Doxson:  F*ck Dad! I don't have time for this! I'm not crazy!!!

Dad:  Watch your mouth young man. You my be 19 but you're still living under my roof. And quite frankly this isn't up for discussion. How do you think we feel? How worried we were when your mother found you passed out...comatose!

Doxson: Dad...

Dad:  Let me finish! You wouldn't move for hours! The doctors where about ready to declare you brain dead. And for what? A fix? Is that it? Drugs?! I raised you better than that boy. Look what you've done to your mother!

Mom:  *crying*

Dad:  This is for your own good. You'll be in good hands here. This is the best hospital in the area. They'll tend to your vices one way or another.

Doxson:  For the last time, I'm not on drugs! Now unstrap me from this bed! I have something I need to do. After that go ahead and commit me. I'll do this stupid program and whatever else you want but I just need to take care of one last thing. PLEASE!

Dad:  No. No more secrets. Unless you plan on telling me what you so desperately need to do, you stay here. Once the drug test comes back we'll know exactly how messed up you are.

Doxson:  Crap! It's happening again. The pain...

Mom:  What's, going on?

Dad:  Doctor! Doctors!!!?

Doxson:  Got no choice. Must cross...over...

Left World

Doxson:  ARGH!!!

???:  Hey look! Told ya he want dead!

???:  Dammit fool, if he ain't dead then tie the f*cker up before he gets...F*CK!!!

Doxson:  *cough* Taste like blood. What'd those Devil bastards do to me. And where the hell am I? Smells like crap. Looks like a maze. Something's wrong though Oh my God! My hand. They broke my hand. Dammit, must've been the adrenaline. Body's wrecked and I'm starting to feel all of it. ...must keep moving though... light. I see light!

elsewhere

???:  Sorry boss, we lost 'im.

Boss:  We are the Twelfth Devil! We don't LOSE anyone! Find him and bring him to me. No excuses. I won't to watch him die personally by my hands.

???:  Yessir, we got it.

atop a hill

Doxson:  I'm out but I still don't know where I am. Argh! Pain. Different pain though. Quick peek. ...ARGH!!! They're shocking me on the other side. Must think...I'm...dead. The...worlds have....diverged. Too much. Merging...now...probably..kill me. *cough* More blood. Rrg. No choice. Must. Open. Both. Eyes. ....it's so beautiful...AHH!!!

August 29th, 20XII

A boy sits alone atop a roof. Rain drenches his tattered body. A shredded pair of shorts that were once pants are all that adorn his scared body. His head held low he mutters to his solitude...

- I stand at the apex of true enlightenment and am not afraid. I peer into the abyss but see nought but emptiness. My world fades black; the sun shan't rise again. I am alone, away from home, although this no longer feel unfamiliar. The darkness continues to drown out all that is unnecessary and standing in its midst I find the time to confront my oppressions. There is suffering and pain within yet less blood than available to smother such a depressive fire.  Memories of a time long past seem like dreams, extinguishing upon reorientation and lucidity.

August 30th, 2011

It's two AM and a young boy stumbles back and forth muttering something to himself till a friend approaches and they converse...

- Dude I'm glad you're here! I'm feeling sick. I think I drank too much. But did you see it? Jen's here. If I can keep my sh*t together long enough I'll be able to make my move. I mean who wouldn't want some of this? I'm the school's top athlete and well come on. I make hot look ugly. Just gotta stay focused and not. Throw. Up.

- Hal, listen man, you might wanna try a different approach with her. She's an artsy type. You go after her like any other girl and you'll get slammed. With girls like her, you gotta be subtle with how badly you wanna f*ck. They want to be desired but then wanna think you're more interested in expanding minds and sh*t. Try some poetry or philosophy or some crap. Then you'll have her on her knees easy!

- *laughter* Now that's why you my boy! Aight, I'll put it off for tonight but by the end of the week she'll be mine.

August 31st, 20XII

It's the middle of the night and a young boy no older than 16 stands in a doorway engulfed in flames. His build and demeanor showing not so subtle signs of degradation. He resides in that doorway unmoving until a particular noise is made. He makes his way to the sound.

- My world is on fire. But I can't stop. I won't stop. This body compels me and until I find what caused this, I can never get my life back.

He comes upon a man, trapped under some debris.

- Hold on.

Using a strength that by any right seems beyond him, the rubble is cleared.

- There....eixt. Just behind me. Up those stairs. Are you hurt...

The man forgets gratitude and makes a rush for the exit and the young man, thin but muscular, stands again in the flames. Unmoving. Becoming one with the flame as more of this world ablaze continues to fall. From outside the man makes his escape to a slew of firefighters as the floors begin to collapse in on each other. Dust begins to billow out. All watch on with the hope that everyone made it out.

August 31st, 20II

It's 10 PM and a 14 year old boy is making his way to what would appear to be a party. School is about to start for him again and he finds himself, just like so many others his age, looking for that last adventure before being caged up again for another nine months.

- 'I find, the time, to confront my oppre...oppressions?' ...GAHDAMMIT! I'll never have this memorized by the time she shows up! I should've forced that asshole to write me something shorter. I don't even really get what half this sh*t even means! then again, if it works, it doesn't really matter. Sh*t, why couldn't there be an easier way...

He continues to read the words off of a crumpled sheet of loose-leaf trying his hardest to commit the worlds to memory. He continues with the repetition unless something catches his gaze. A flower perhaps; one that is unnatural but enticing none the less. He figures something like that could be used to supplement a poor performance with the poem and makes his way to pick it.

- Oh yeah. This is gonna f*ck'n own. She may even go for the blow after this. And wow, what a scent. It's like...like...

Unexpectedly he passes out. Needless to say he never makes the party. And not too long after he seems to disappear entirely. By the end of 20II no one knows just what has become of Halen Samson. The jock, the scholar, the boy with such a bright future ahead of him.

September 13th, 20XII

A young lady stands upon a rooftop barring the way of two large men. They seem to be up to no good and looking to make their getaway with ill-gotten goods. The girl standing in there way can't be more than 15 tops and is dressed like a feminist comic book hero.

Pants.

Baggy.

The two men stand perplexed. She takes the opportunity to announce herself stating, "I'm Quantum Butterfly and I'm here to dispense justice!".

The men break out in laughter. The Pink laden hero stomps her foot and balls up her fists. Steaming mad she demands respect.

No dice as the men continue to laugh until one remarks amidst chuckles and gasps for air, "Quantum Butterfly? ...hot pink, navy, and white camouflage Capri-pants and toe-shoes...hell maybe you should go by 'Camo-toe ' instead!"

The laughter continues on until one of the men finds he is the only one still laughing.

Turning to his associate he finds that the child had made her way over to them and left his buddy in need of consciousness. Glee turning to rage he drops his swag gearing up to unholster his piece to find a sudden pain in his lower belly find its way to signaling his brain. Perplexed at what  the cause of the sensation could be. His eyes trace to the source to find a navy toe-shoe lodged where his baby-maker should be. One phrase is caught by his ears as his head goes light and he finds himself waking up hours later, somewhere quite familiar yet highly undesirable.

"They're called ninja footies!"

The night is saved the girl believes as both perps are  down and with a quick call to the local law enforcement they'll be on their way. Though as she continues to pat herself on the back a strange odor catches her attention. Upon recognition of the origin of such a well-known fragrance she decides to forgo tying them up and waiting for the police to get there upwind.

"Teehee, I kicked him so hard he sh..."

September 22th, 20XII

A young heroine stands atop an apartment building in Manhattan overlooking the edge in hope for excitement to find her. It's been an hour already and though slow nights aren't uncommon, she finds herself fairly anxious. Another hour and she'll call it a night she thinks to herself .

So after an hour she turns to the entryway to find a man standing by the door. It's odd in all the creepy ways as she can't figure out how long he'd been there or how he was able to sneak up on her in the first place. There's a thick silence in the air which is perplexing for a city that never sleeps. Then again, when it's plague by extremist fanatics brainwashed into believing the world's going to end, even New Yorkers can find the desire to stay in given the right incentives. Besides, only tourists populate the berg at night anyway.

The man stands at least 2 ft taller than our girl and has the kind of menacing look that not so subtly screams pedophile. Were it not for the abilities she gained earlier in the year she'd probably feel a bit intimidated. Though had she not received such power, she wouldn't be making the ridiculous commute every Saturday night to begin with.

The silence drags on until she decides to question his intentions. The man smirks and tells her he's there for the "chip" and that it'll only go "one way." She laughs and in a blink it begins. Clearing the divide in an instant she directs a punch toward her rooftop companion just to find the door to have changed places with him.

Finding her fist lodged in the door her anger is not hard to read. In fact it isn't until she feels a hand land on her shoulder before realizing he had somehow made it behind her. Pivoting to throw a kick she finds herself miss again but with the gathered momentum is able to remove her hand along with a nice shard which she conveniently can use for throwing,  Though as she takes aim her heart seems to flutter. Dropping to her knees she feels it, she feels her heart beating irregularly. Gathering what strength she has left she turns to the mysterious stranger to find her eyes drawn to his boots as the soles seem to glow orange. Before she knows it, she finds her eyes regaining focus upon a brilliant night sky as she feels her body falling, the building drifting further from her.

Hitting an adjacent building she hears the phrase, 'guess I used to much...' as the indentation gives way to the weigh of her body. Now, she has never had any broken bones before but if the pain and blood that was beginning to  pool in her throat was any indication, perhaps she did now. She'd only been on the job half a year now and she might actually be facing the end. The time for contemplation of the events that put this whole insane journey of hers into motion was slowly slipping from her. Regaining her footing on a fire escape she realized just how bad things were and just what she had to do.

September 29th, 20XII

It's Saturday evening. A week ago she was praying to any deity who'd listen to be able to make it back home alive. She was shaken. She'd never faced anyone so strong. So inhumanly fast. Until then she had believe she was special. That her powers were unique. But now, now she knows. She understands that she's not alone.

The creepy man in black took her down with one kick. He said he wanted some sort of chip from her. And upon contact her powers went haywire. It was as though her heart was pumping out three beats instead of two. It was a terrible spot to be in. She thought it'd be fun. She believed she could help. It was fun. It was an escape from the crappy life she'd settled into since her father died and mother took a liking to her other child, Jack. Jack Daniels.

Maybe it was time she gave up went through her mind as she lied in bed for a week. By the third day most of the pain had subsided. By the next day there wasn't any at all. Once Friday hit she felt 100 percent but couldn't shake the fear of running into that man again.

It's Saturday evening and Sarah Chen sits in her New Jersey apartment staring at a bloody costume fighting back tears. She doesn't know if she can find the drive to go out there ever again. She just doesn't know if playing hero in a world gone mad is worth her life.

The joy, the ecstasy, it was all fleeting. But the emotional distress stayed. She was a fifteen year old girl on the brink of a decision only adults should ever have to make. 'Go or stay. Live or die. Just, don't cry. You're not a baby anymore so you don't get to sit a cry hoping it'll all resolve itself. Not since your father left, not since your mother left, and definitely not since you snuck out past state curfew in search of that which needs righting. Just don't cry,' she repeated over and over in her mind.

It would be the second longest night of her life.

September 30th, 20XII

A young girl walks into a subway train. She's on her way to the "big apple" in search of injustice. Equipped with a with an abundance of pink and gall she strode through the car in search of a seat avoiding eye contact with the few stragglers that shared her travel plan.

So all seems well and good until an MP makes his way onboard her car. It's 10 minutes to Penn Station and he's going up to everyone asking for ID and their reasons for being out past curfew. New York being one of the cities that'd been facing a lot of attacks had recently gone under martial law. This was quite a sticky pickle for the would be heroine but she had a plan. She was simply going to do what every teenaged girl excelled at. Lie.

Upon being reached by the officer, she was met by a young man who couldn't have been too far out of his 20s. Giving her the rundown he broke the two-second dramatic pause with something other than a request for identification. Instead he asked if she was the vigilante, "Camo-Toe". Engulfed by rage she corrected him, proclaiming her name to be Quantum Butterfly and proceeded to go down the list of criminals she'd stopped.

Though it really was a terribly short list he interrupted her to explain how she was going to be taken in for numerous counts of breaking the law and for a possible connection to the kid who set an office building a blaze a few weeks earlier. Not thrilled, she did the first thing teenagers, in general, were good at. She Ran.

Making it all the way to the front car she thought she was home free until the train came to a stop. The uniform catching up to her seemed just as surprised as she was. Looking to each other for answers a voice came through the PA system. Someone familiar to her. A voice so familiar she felt her heart start to beat oddly. Returning her focus to the announcement she was able to catch the tail end before the lights went out.

"...I'll just take it from your cold, dead body," was the last thing they heard on the speakers. The power was out and they were looking at having to hoof it to the next station. It wasn't more than two minutes in however before the sound of an explosion ended their journey. Luckily they hadn't made it to far from the train since the ceiling started to cave in.

Barely making it back inside one of the cars they watched as some of the others that joined them were crushed. As people began to panic the sound of metal straining, windows breaking, and dirt piling up didn't help. Things were bad, real bad. It wasn't until the sound of falling debris filling in the free space between them and the outside ended that what may be their last words were spoken between the MP and heroine.

"You know how parents always say to make sure that if you're ever going out to make sure you're wearing clean underwear?"

"Yeah. So, what about it kid?"

"I'm glad I never took that to heart."

"Oh...kay. Um thanks for sharing and all but as I'm looking at death in a few minutes, I'm sad to report I'm not the kind of guy who cares about little girl's panties."

"You're supposed to ask me why."

"Fine kid. Be my guest, why?"

"Cause I think I just sh...

October 07th, 20XII

Over strange and wondrous lands find we a humble explorer. Creatures, foreign, amass a populous on lands familiar yet not. With legs folded the humble man rests with companions silence and time. Night bleeds to day then back once more before the traveler makes way.

He moves lest the beast converge. The way home he seeks in such a land, unsure of how or when his arrival was made.  A warmth settles in the breeze. Cover requires he as water embarks upon him. To meditation he returns, existence freezing behind him.

Bringing his digits together, fingers spread while his palms face each other, untouched his eyes shut. With the whisper, 'knowledge of the Earth' a path is made aware. Avoiding treacherous grass and shade, a river stands before him. Banks filed with liquid fire he dives till its passing. Refreshed he surfaces to a sky ablaze in aurora. Once again awakening the sight he makes his way to wander. Being still brings naught but pain within such an ever altering expanse.

Wander he must, for freedom or peace.

October 12th, 20XII

Subtly woken, the estranged travel finds discombobulation. Under skies aurora he feels Earth removed. During slumber the ground dare shift appearing blissful with birdlike creatures that inhabit the above. A glance across the edge bring orientation and bewilderment then in instant, fear.

Cohesion is lost and that which was two aspires to be one again. Air like water the traveler drifts amongst the soil and stone; feathers falling grace. As height is devoured speed is picked up. Mass of man greater, debris becomes as hammers fierce to his before. Clasping palms together with elbows aligned outward our focus lets lids falls and mutters, 'fluid dexterity'.

Sight restored to approaching cobbles, he finds grip, then inertia, his reins to life. Traversing rising hazard the vagrant makes saddle a boulder. Time to assimilation growing ever close he brings his body in close, this last vestige of solace slowly deteriorating. They reach the ground.

Alive, if not worse for ware, betwixt peace and the falling his hand c lapse and with muttering a dance begins.  Avoidance of the harmful, ever vigilant in desire to live, the downpour ceases as our unlucky reaches his limit.  To lay where he fell time passes unnoticed. Rest is interrupted by shadows flickering amidst his lids. Two human-like creatures, one completely white while the other black, are viewed once the self-imposed obscurity's rectified. One dispenses introductions.

'Whiteboy' is the name received before positing the other's designation as Blackboy'. A berating  followed. The well-meaning itinerant was met with no less than, 'Just because I'm black that's what my names gotta be!?' bundled with assorted vulgarities and accusations, racism. Someone with which he could communicate had been found and a bad start had accompanied.

This world continued to flabbergast and before the end of their introduction, surrounded by fiendish beings, the newly acquainted need survive. It was to be an overlong day.

October 21st, 20XII

A dust kicks up past our humble triumvirate as their destinations end faces them. The two additions to out stoic vagrant have lead to fabled hope. Ancient with shroud of myth, the escape sought by this man welcomes its visitor. Unto steps of living forest, weary from desolate lands that surround, they proceed. He follows the guidance to platform littered of amber monoliths. As if kin, perhaps parent, of Henge stood before him. Light emanating by approach new life breathes into the young man's quest. Though bewilderment substitutes soon as time flows on without action.

Too close to ignore, too far to grasp, despair ferments. Odds long already, the last vestige seems lost. The three converse, those that directed unable to divulge that which they know not, and he that sought direction adverse to surrender. Time though as phantom pushed on with speech. Having moved its own pace since initial venture's behest, it's passage no longer observed by the intruder to such phantasmagoric a realm. Placing hands on the structures a faint sound is freed. The two human-like attend emulation availing dissimilar results.

Puzzle stands before our journeyman and allies but after such commotion as does they who protest. Beasts or monsters that hath plagued the adventure resume their detest. Waves larger, spanning evermore, surrounding the platform; a solution their only survival. The man stands as target. Leading they who pursue, elsewhere he directs. If there is way he implores comrades to find it. The battle begins.

Creatures as dogs with cloven hooves and serpent tails lead offensive. Bipedal mules clad in scales, slings of javelins bringing death to all alike to end his foreign existence. As wyvern-like quartet breathe grassed-earth and water; chaos reigns.  Skies flare as the plane's populous dwindles. That which may end all continues. All done to prevent, the man will not yield. Home. His home rests on his mind though heavy on his heart such destruction weighs.  Enemies dwindling the flight minded merge becoming lost to sight. Attention stolen, a wave of devastation splits the land itself as it crosses the forbidden place.  Regaining equilibrium the lost gentleman finds nought but ruin where adversary stood. Commanding his gaze to his hope, pain is found. Jurn rests upon a pillar, his arm clutching chest together. His brother rushing to aid the man moves to join glancing jaws residing in the vicinity. Disconnected from body and anything else but horizon itself. Teethed clenched it stands betweenst him and allies. Stalemate appears until subtle melody breeches air. A soiled hand from Jurn grips a section of that which his body rests setting the area aglow. With such new developments the viscous mouth 'quires heading anew.

Hast lacking the aberration is quickly met. Thrusting both fists together, 'will of fire' leaves his lips in final effort from the young adventurer. In time to halt devouring of his compatriots the oddity's pangs have made home of his palms. Even with his all, the crushing strength is all but overwhelming. If blood sparks such fear then his may be paramount to it all. Realization found he urges on his journeyed brethren. Hastening collection of his blood he bequests. Almost at limits end a harmony erupts from the stage. Strange, like jazz or funk. Though nothing else transpires. Strength failing he makes one final request. Mixing the blood of his two brethren he glances to the warrior perhaps for assure. Met with smile and he hears utter, play that funky music Whiteboy' toned with hope that all would end okay. Smearing the amalgam upon central consol, that resembling music bursts free as the ruins crumble as skies fall.

And in instant all's engulfed in light.

October 31st, 20XII

Eyes rocked open, the humble sleeper releases a sigh. The night sky greets with familiarity, accomplishment, success. The world of wonder and strange now behind him, new tasks await.

His body creaks, swaying to waves. Time returns aside pain and shiver. Taste of salt apparent, surmised location marks ocean. Darkness shrouds horizon leaving naught but moon glare.  The call ever present commands him. Death can not collect. This is bigger than him.

Exhaustion, parading hunger, swarm with sightless and silence. His will demands, body foolishly complying. Condemnation of tainted breaths, striking onward, at limit and so on past, little more than flotsam.

Destination unknown, despair arriving. Nature takes him. Consciousness losing.  Alone.

November 13th, 20XII

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