The first thing I see is white. It is blindingly pure and I have to raise a hand to shield my eyes. When the light fades, I blink 8 times, trying to grasp my surroundings.
The room I stand in is warmed por the flames dancing in the fireplace. A burgundy sofá sits on the flowered Persian rug, accompanied por two arm chairs and a glass coffee table.
The pregunta "Where am I?" leaves my mind in that glance. It is replaced by "Why?" and más urgently "How?". I walk cautiously adelante, hacia adelante and run a hand over a bookshelf crowded with thick encyclopedias and vibrant fairytales.
This place.
This house were I lived as a young child, where my father taught me to ride a 2-wheeler in the driveway and my mother filled with the scent of baking chocolate with an horno full of brownies.
This house.
This inicial had burned, been consumed por angry red and naranja and yellow, greedily reducing little más than mournful grey crumbs. I saw the feasting with my own eyes, watched it again and again in haunting nightmares.
And suddenly, a woman enters the room. She is me, twenty years from now. Though her hair is straighter, shorter than the waves that cascade down my back. Her eyes are a clearer, bluer sky than my storm-clouded greys. And something else. Something about the way she holds herself says she has seen too much, but her warm smile suggests she has learned to forgive and accept unchangeable memories.
"Mom?" my voice cracks as I speak a word beyond my vocabulary, stolen from me por those hungry devourers from Hell.
"Aryess." The voice, the way she speak my name, so familiar, so living, ringing every note of the measure, sends a shock through my body and freezes me where I stand. It's her. It's impossible. It makes sense to me in only one form.
"Am I dead?"
The room I stand in is warmed por the flames dancing in the fireplace. A burgundy sofá sits on the flowered Persian rug, accompanied por two arm chairs and a glass coffee table.
The pregunta "Where am I?" leaves my mind in that glance. It is replaced by "Why?" and más urgently "How?". I walk cautiously adelante, hacia adelante and run a hand over a bookshelf crowded with thick encyclopedias and vibrant fairytales.
This place.
This house were I lived as a young child, where my father taught me to ride a 2-wheeler in the driveway and my mother filled with the scent of baking chocolate with an horno full of brownies.
This house.
This inicial had burned, been consumed por angry red and naranja and yellow, greedily reducing little más than mournful grey crumbs. I saw the feasting with my own eyes, watched it again and again in haunting nightmares.
And suddenly, a woman enters the room. She is me, twenty years from now. Though her hair is straighter, shorter than the waves that cascade down my back. Her eyes are a clearer, bluer sky than my storm-clouded greys. And something else. Something about the way she holds herself says she has seen too much, but her warm smile suggests she has learned to forgive and accept unchangeable memories.
"Mom?" my voice cracks as I speak a word beyond my vocabulary, stolen from me por those hungry devourers from Hell.
"Aryess." The voice, the way she speak my name, so familiar, so living, ringing every note of the measure, sends a shock through my body and freezes me where I stand. It's her. It's impossible. It makes sense to me in only one form.
"Am I dead?"
Revenge slipped a dagger into his hands. Onlookers watched nervously. Revenge calculated at least three hundred. He couldn't let them get hurt. He couldnt let the girl he loved get hurt.
"Targeting system lock on." he whispered.
The gun was cocked against Holly's head. "Choose who tu amor more! Who?! Her, o me? This little perra who abandoned you, o the one who stayed with you? All the way through?"
"Targeting System locked." the computer read.
Revenge raised his hand slowly, as if in slow motion. His arm moved forward. The crowd caught it's breath. The handle left his hand and the point sped the thirty yard gap and...
Power Corrupts.
Power Seduces.
If weaved correctly,
It can make even the greatest among us
Fall.
The story that changes everything,
Starts Now.
Red Revenge V: What Matters?
January 2013
"Targeting system lock on." he whispered.
The gun was cocked against Holly's head. "Choose who tu amor more! Who?! Her, o me? This little perra who abandoned you, o the one who stayed with you? All the way through?"
"Targeting System locked." the computer read.
Revenge raised his hand slowly, as if in slow motion. His arm moved forward. The crowd caught it's breath. The handle left his hand and the point sped the thirty yard gap and...
Power Corrupts.
Power Seduces.
If weaved correctly,
It can make even the greatest among us
Fall.
The story that changes everything,
Starts Now.
Red Revenge V: What Matters?
January 2013
Name: Eliot Xiane
Age: 28
Occupation: scientist/ civilian
Personality: inverted, hard working, curios, eccentric, paranoid, inventive
Physical Description: tall, thin, black hair, almost always had a 5 o' clock shadow, walks with a limp
History: Eliot, a.k.a. Dr. Xiane grew up in Boston, Massachusetts. After graduating from Harvard at age 19, he worked as a professor there. On the side, he worked on bio-technology that he invented himself. He continues to work as a professor, but spends much of his time in the lab he has created over the years. Jasper (Ruse) came to him as an associate and requested his help in creating weapons and armor for Double Helix. Intrigued and up for the challenge, Dr. Xiane agreed and now invents technology/ bio-tech for them.
Inventions (so far):
Hover Board- for Alek
X-Suit- for Aryess
A few others....