(? ?, ? / ??:??)

  Long ago…

  A lone man walked through a desote hallway, shrouded in darkness.

  He wore nothing but a simple white cloak, with long sleeves reaching up to his fingers. His sandals spped the cobblestone ground, sweat dripped off from the leather he smmed against.

  His face was shadowed, but he had a long beard—a beard reaching down to his upper crotch, shaded in a paste of gray. His hair was gray, with strands flowing down to his lower back. He wielded something within his palms.

  It was a leather bag, filled to the brim of what exactly…?

  (???’s thoughts) Absolute fool…

  He reached a door, a door that wasn’t wooden nor carved out of stone. No … the engravings and metal shrouded on the frame of the door were metallic, vished in bluish gold. Looking to be something entirely different, almost alien-like, the man extended his hand onto the right side of the door.

  And in the flick of a swish, the north, south, east, and west sides of the door pulled back all at one. Leaving the air to be sucked into the tiny air holes of the cracks, he pushed through, making him walk himself toward the room where he…

  It was vast.

  (???’s thoughts) The simpleton wouldn’t know the difference between camity and saviority.

  Rows upon rows of bookshelves lined up the rge room, filled with books garnished in bck. Thick, unbreakable even, the books that hold up the space between the shelves thickened the room with ink. The aroma pungent, yet nostalgic, the man continued along his path until he reached the center of all of it.

  Which was a desk, crafted in a mix between stone and wood.

  Pcing the butt of his palms on the edge of the desk, he let his eyes squint into one of the books unveiling itself in front of him. As it lined up on what he was thinking, he wrinkled his cheeks along with his forehead.

  (???’s thoughts) These curses he’s forged will only bring chaos … and to scrimmage chaos …

  He moved his hands to the bottom of the book, raising it high with his left hand. With his right, he scoured through the pages, flipping them through as if he were skimming them.

  But he wasn’t.

  (???’s thoughts) I must extinguish it with grace…

  Ceasing his skimming, he pced his finger directly on a single line of text, his nail digging into the yellow coffee-brewed paper. Pulling his finger out, he closed the book and grunted as he began his trek to the very front of the room.

  In front of him, was a little concoction, well fed with gss cylinders and colorful liquids that could’ve been found either in chemistry or fiction. Pcing the book inches from the concoction, he analyzed the yers of liquid, his gray eyes crinkled under the strain he put them in.

  (???’s thoughts) These things … these blessings … will bring us to a new age, a new genesis…

  Taking one of the gss cylinders from the table, he raised the tip of the lid to his right eye. Twirling it around, it created a mini vortex in the middle, leaving a twister to ripple through the surface.

  His fingers cmped the gss, and his breath humidified the outside cylinder, staining it with sweat.

  (???’s thoughts) Anyone can use them … but only one can be a savior to all.

  Putting the gss cylinder back onto the table concoction, he walked back toward his desk, while pcing his hand onto his forehead. His eyes strained, his scleras reddened, and his eyelids looked as if he hadn’t gone days without sleep.

  Yet he walked normally, elegantly even for a man wearing a simple white cloak. Reaching the front of his desk, he gnced down at the thick book, which was closed by none other than himself.

  (???’s thoughts) I don’t partake in prophecies, but this one … I can see with faultless eyes.

  Another book was near the one he closed.

  It was smaller and thinner, with the pages looking to be colored in bluish coffee grounds. The text garnished in ink, and the smell of it assaulting his sensitive nostrils, he grunted a noise from his throat.

  Letting his fingers do the turning, he scoured through the writings in a frenzy. Even though he looked like he was skipping them … he was reading through the text.

  (???’s thoughts) The eight heroes from a faraway nd? A future tale describing how we’ll be saved by those eight? Seems far beyond my vision’s horizon, yet …

  He stopped reading, once his eyes blurred everything out of importance. His pupils, pinning themselves directly into an image pstered on one of the pages, detailed a young man wielding a weapon…

  (???’s thoughts) With how much Atntis has cascaded; I wouldn't be surprised if the Thousandth Hero prophecy turns out to be faithful.

  The weapon looked futuristic yet savage, looking to be a weapon meant to suffice life with ease. And the man looked vished in all bck clothing, his clothes looking yet again; futuristic yet savage. Details suggest that this man in this photo had pale skin, light brown hair … and …

  A side bang covering the right side of his face.

  (???’s thoughts) But only the future will bear…

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  (Herbstmonath 14, 59 / 10:41AM)

  A month after the events of the Zirardge feud.

  Summertime still reigned over the parched town. The sun’s rays relentlessly swelled the concrete and bricks, making the bck pavement feel like stepping on bck iron skillets. Every second, the air people breathed in wrinkled their lungs and swelled their throats.

  In short, it was like being in an oven, yet it was only morning.

  Just beyond the swelled city, a city that went by the name of Dodgerock y a rge white adobe. Sitting on top of a hill, a hill that overlooked the small city, the roof dwelled and simmered under the continuous sun.

  And inside that rge adobe…

  The sounds of metal creaking can be heard…

  (Stan) Well … at least I could move it.

  In one of the specialized buildings of the adobe, was a rge b built for just a pair of geeks. From hard metals to special liquids, from electric rods to white crystals, the room looked to be a man cave for these sets of geeks.

  But two of the geeks brought three tag-alongs, with the three guests being all women. Two of them were tan-complected, while one of them had pale skin.

  (Pacifica) That’s alright leaf-licker, you’re improving~

  The three women huddled up together, letting their eyes squint at the metallic hand lying on the floor. Looking to be moving and twitching, it was artificial, robotic even. Even so, Stan picked up the metallic hand and pced it deep into where his right hand used to be.

  Spinning around, it locked itself right back into pce, connecting and stamping itself right along his bone. Since the nerves had been fried, no pain swelled or soared on his wrist, but the thought of it cringed all the geek's faces.

  (Gary) Looks like me and Fred have to make some adjustments.

  (Fred) Still working on the electric bolts along your fingers. Other than that, your new hand should be working normally.

  (Stan) Thank you guys, but I could still grab things with my left hand.

  Moving his artificial fingers one by one, Stan lowered his right metal hand along his waist. Looking at the three women group, he raised his left hand to scratch the back of his head, his nails scraping off barrages of dandrum.

  Walking toward the women in the center, she had bck hair that reached down to her shoulders, and dark eyes resembling that of dark chocote. Despite being taller and older than her, she made him feel smaller and younger…

  (Stan) You don’t have to always go in here you know… you could do much better things than just watch me spin my hand.

  (Pacifica) Nah. I like seeing you geeks try and fail. It’s one of my favorite-favorite hobbies~

  (Gary’s thoughts) She’s even worse than Luna! At least she doesn’t ugh like some mad cow!

  Next to Pacifica and Stan, were Hope and Luna, who had their eyes pinned onto a young man working on a table.

  His hands and eyes were fully tranced into the subject of chemistry, leaving him to glide his feet through the frictionless floor with ease. With many different metric fsks, all holding unknown variants of liquids, strengthen his brain; one could say…

  He was in the zone.

  (Luna’s thoughts) What the hell is he cooking up this time?

  (Hope’s thoughts) I hope he knows what he’s doing. I don’t want another accident…

  Picking up one of the syringes from the table, he wielded it with just his pointer finger and thumb. Sucking in the brownish liquid from the fsk, he moved it toward a sheet of gss and then lowered it on the surface. Pushing out the liquid, flowing it with another liquid, it swirled and swirled until it created a greenish oily substance.

  Straightening his back, he used his right arm to wipe off a gleam of sweat from his forehead. Staining his bck leather jacket, he huffed out a breath of air from his strained lungs, as prior, he held his breath for the oxygen to not flutter the substance.

  Having another syringe on standby, he walked over toward a clear white liquid.

  (Luke’s thoughts) The second time’s a charm…

  Sucking in the liquid with the syringe, a liquid that had no named bel, he then made his way to the greenish oily substance. Feeling like his body might swell up in fmes, he kept his breathing steady and lowered the syringe millimeters from the substance.

  And with a push of the syringe, he closed his eyes and squeezed his muscles, as the unknown liquid…

  Didn’t do anything.

  Opening his eyes slowly, he took a couple of steps back, while leaning his body away from the substance he created. Letting out a soft chuckle, he felt light as a grain of sand, making him push up his lips to form a benevolent smile.

  A smile that warmed both Hope and Luna’s faces.

  (Luke) It didn’t explode! It didn’t explode!

  Running toward both Hope and Luna, he grabbed both of their hands and leaned his face inches from theirs. Taking their breaths away, they widened their eyes, and blistered their cheeks pinkish red.

  (Luke) It didn’t—

  It exploded.

  As if God had pulled a malicious prank on him, a storm of smoke and bck dust gusted from the experiment he concocted. Sprinting to every corner of the room, everyone that resided in it turned toward…

  They couldn’t see, let alone breathe.

  Their lungs wrinkled from the excess smoke and dust, and they coughed out breathless wheezes, wheezes that made them look like they were dying. Even if they weren’t, they probably would die…

  But that is if they would remain in the room.

  Exiting out from the door, a door that was busted open from the explosion, the seven of them walked slowly out. Their bodies littered with bck smoke, they all stared forward at the garden in front of them, while they blinked.

  (Luke) …

  (Luna and Hope) … LUKE!!

  Both of them pinched the bottom of Luke’s ears, their nails sharply digging into his skin. No blood was drawn, it didn’t make things better, as both women puffed up their cheeks like chipmunks.

  Tapping his hands onto their wrists, they didn’t let go, as they wanted to push their point across. His eyes closed, his eyelids on the verge of tearing out, he hunched his back and clutched his hands together.

  (Stan) Damn it … cough cough … not again.

  (Gary) cough cough … well at least he tried.

  (Pacifica) W-What … time … is it …?

  Feeling woozy, Pacifica tumbled down to the floor, sprawling amongst the stone which led Stan to pick her up. Bridal carrying her, Stan moved his eyes to see Fred standing still, his stare being bnked and void with no thought.

  Ignoring Luke being punished by both Hope and Luna, Stan pced himself right in front of Fred.

  (Stan) Fred? Is anyone in there?

  Like a cartoon, he didn’t fall forward … but backward.

  His arms and hands ft against his body, he tilted his body back until he smmed himself on the stone floor. Hitting his upper back first, a low groan flowed from his parched throat, as if he was in a gusher of pain.

  Being the closest one to him, Gary carried Fred on his back.

  (Gary) Why does he still work on that stupid manganese heptoxide? Doesn’t he know it’s impossible for it to not explode with physical contact?

  (Stan) He made Bromine unlethal. He made helium explode. If he could bend chemistry to his will, he would.

  (Gary) Still though. We shouldn’t be taking the brunt of his faults…

  He noticed a rge group of people walking toward them, half of them wearing outdoor brown jackets and bck leather jackets.

  Leading the two groups were both Miles and Christian, their faces pstered with disappointment. Their heads low, their hands swaying against their waists, they huffed their breaths the more they walked toward them; specifically toward Luke.

  Passing through Stan and Gary, the two of them decided to join along with them. Walking toward Luke, they stood in front of him, leaving Luna and Hope to let go of his ears.

  (Miles) Let me guess … you failed an experiment.

  (Luke) I won’t call it a failure exactly…

  (Christian) But it exploded.

  (Luke) But there was a dey … so … I would call it progress …

  Both Christian and Miles folded their arms beneath their chests, huffing out air as they sighed. Seeing that everyone had gred at him, Luke began to rub the back of his head with his left hand, closing his eyes to put on a warm smile. His smile always warmed their hearts, from the midst of despair to the mist of insanity, but yet…

  It can’t cure frustrations, let alone anger.

  (Jack) You can’t fight your way out of this. Don’t try to puppy dog-eye us.

  (Luke) I-I’m not!

  (Jack) Then stop smiling! Don’t think that just giving us a peace sign and a bow would be enough to forgive your antics!?

  (Miles) Enough Jack. Anyway … just clean up the mess. Whatever you broke, whatever you fix.

  Cpping his hands together, he gave them all a 45-degree bow. Feeling their stares and gres penetrate through his soul, he felt a quiver in his throat, but he didn’t speak nor stutter. Instead, he lowered his head and began his walk toward the partially damaged room.

  Inside the room, ash and dust littered the air like smoke, leaving him to cough and gasp. Swaying the air with his right hand, he began his punishment; cleaning up the man cave that he damaged; yet again.

  But he heard footsteps. Turning around, he noticed Miles, Luna, Hope, Benn, Christian, and everyone else setting foot into the room.

  (Luke) But … I thought—

  (Christian) You may be a bit reckless … but in the end, your intentions are always sought for good. So…

  (Miles) We’ll help you with the cleanup, but you owe me a box of soda after this.

  (Luna) And a donut.

  (Jack) And some money.

  (Miles) You don’t owe him anything.

  Seeing all of them helping out in whatever way they could, Luke let out a quivered smile. His hands cmmed with warmth, and blood went up to his cheeks, he sniffled once not from sadness, but from … dust.

  Dust still plunged the polluted air, so it makes sense.

  Straightening his back, and clearing his throat, he grabbed a hold of a simple broom and dust pan. Picking up shards of gss from his failed experiment, or what he would call a breakthrough in progress, he softly chuckled.

  (Luke’s thoughts) In the end … they never gave up on me. So…

  Seeing Miles berate Jack, Stan work out his new hand, Gary cough his lungs out, Luna and Hope fight each other over a spare broom, and Christian go red at yelling at his newly fresh soldiers…

  And everyone else trying their best to clean up the mess.

  It gave Luke a purpose. Not as a soldier, but as a leader, to see the bond between him and everyone else, and the bond between everyone else and each other.

  (Luke’s thoughts) I’ll never give up on them.