Falling like the Grains in an Hourglass
Things weren't the same. They never would be again, though. Whould they?
Thomas thought not. Too much had happened. He had changed his appearance totally many times over, fought off new enemies alongside new allies only to have both those groups dissolve and reform anew, unrecognizable from the former faction.
He hadn't seen Bruce, Timothy, Edward, not even Selina or any of the other whores in weeks. He would not admit it to himself during his waking hours, but his dreams were haunted with the looming fact that for the first time in his life, Thomas was aimless. He had no direction. Bruce was gone. He was the only lasting reminder of that former presence in his life. His was technically deceased, voiding his license to practice. He had sold his home in Philly and while he had some funds from Bruce's remaining stockpiles he had no source of income and was not keen on squandering his last bit of freedom.
So now he sat, exploring the internet while trying to relax in the leather chair he had resigned himself to, searching almost feebly for some inspiration. He needed something to do. Something. Anything.
Thomas thought not. Too much had happened. He had changed his appearance totally many times over, fought off new enemies alongside new allies only to have both those groups dissolve and reform anew, unrecognizable from the former faction.
He hadn't seen Bruce, Timothy, Edward, not even Selina or any of the other whores in weeks. He would not admit it to himself during his waking hours, but his dreams were haunted with the looming fact that for the first time in his life, Thomas was aimless. He had no direction. Bruce was gone. He was the only lasting reminder of that former presence in his life. His was technically deceased, voiding his license to practice. He had sold his home in Philly and while he had some funds from Bruce's remaining stockpiles he had no source of income and was not keen on squandering his last bit of freedom.
So now he sat, exploring the internet while trying to relax in the leather chair he had resigned himself to, searching almost feebly for some inspiration. He needed something to do. Something. Anything.