Dream One.) There are things worth dying for
There's nothing that surrounds him, not even light or the faintest noise of another person's existence. It's around this point that he thinks, "Hey, isn't this kinda weird? It's not like it's a usual thing for me to go walkin' around nothin' after all, ya know?" And then he tells himself that hey, this black vacuum of sorts wasn't really here yesterday-except how would he know that, when he can't even remember what yesterday was like? And now can a nothing exist today when it's supposed to be nothing in the first place? Geez, this is confusing!
He keeps on walking anyway, 'cause let's face it: It's not like there's anything else he could do in a place where there's nothing, right? So he continues to tread aimlessly. One, two, three meters onward, and then the realization slowly dawns on him.
It's kind of lonely, being all alone like this.
And that's when it appears: All of a sudden, under a spotlight, which is pretty weird if he really thinks about it, because the light seems to extend upward to forever as if it comes from the heavens and God and the angels themselves-if he actually believes a place like that exists. Anyway, there it is right before him, as if things usually appear out of nowhere all the time: a lone, green fedora.
He blinks and reaches out automatically to grab hold of the hat (somehow it's a familiar image to him, something that seems to hold an answer though he isn't really sure what, because he's really not one of the smart fellas who actually spend really long hours reflecting about these things), and his eyes widen in surprise when hands suddenly materialize around it. Arms appear shortly after that, and then a body attached to those arms, and then a head and tidy, brown hair under a dark hat. The spotlight, though, shines in a way that keeps the person's face hidden from view, but even then he feels as if he knows this man, and a sense of comfort and belonging instantly replaces that sadness he felt only moments earlier.
And then he hears voices all around him, talking, laughing, and then there's the pouring of drink and the clinking of glasses. Somehow this lifts his spirits, and though at first he's content in listening to the merriment forever, eventually he decides that he wants to join in. It's around then that the sounds abruptly die out and a single, powerful voice directs one question at him:
"Will you die in the name of the Martillo Family?"
He considers this only for a short while, because then he realizes that hey, if he's to become part of those fellas who are able to laugh like that, have fun like that? It's not a really bad thing to ask at all.
The crowd cheers as if they can hear his thoughts, but now he catches something else from the corner of his eye: A girl wearing a thin suit, face blocked away from view, running fast as if searching for something or someone. He feels something form in his hand all of a sudden, and when he opens it he finds a button in the center of his palm, and he wonders, "How did that get there?". It must be hers, he thinks, though he isn't sure exactly why he came to that conclusion. He just knows that it is.
When he raises his eyes to find her, though, there's an old man before him, with lines on his face that tells of his knowledge but the glint in his eye that warns of his corruption. The old geezer turns away and that's when he spots the girl, back towards him so he still can't see her features, and even if they're only walking they move away from him so quickly until they become a tiny dot against the darkness, before continually fading away.
But he isn't giving up that easily. So he tucks the button safely inside his pocket and places his complete focus on the path ahead.
And he runs.
He keeps on walking anyway, 'cause let's face it: It's not like there's anything else he could do in a place where there's nothing, right? So he continues to tread aimlessly. One, two, three meters onward, and then the realization slowly dawns on him.
It's kind of lonely, being all alone like this.
And that's when it appears: All of a sudden, under a spotlight, which is pretty weird if he really thinks about it, because the light seems to extend upward to forever as if it comes from the heavens and God and the angels themselves-if he actually believes a place like that exists. Anyway, there it is right before him, as if things usually appear out of nowhere all the time: a lone, green fedora.
He blinks and reaches out automatically to grab hold of the hat (somehow it's a familiar image to him, something that seems to hold an answer though he isn't really sure what, because he's really not one of the smart fellas who actually spend really long hours reflecting about these things), and his eyes widen in surprise when hands suddenly materialize around it. Arms appear shortly after that, and then a body attached to those arms, and then a head and tidy, brown hair under a dark hat. The spotlight, though, shines in a way that keeps the person's face hidden from view, but even then he feels as if he knows this man, and a sense of comfort and belonging instantly replaces that sadness he felt only moments earlier.
And then he hears voices all around him, talking, laughing, and then there's the pouring of drink and the clinking of glasses. Somehow this lifts his spirits, and though at first he's content in listening to the merriment forever, eventually he decides that he wants to join in. It's around then that the sounds abruptly die out and a single, powerful voice directs one question at him:
"Will you die in the name of the Martillo Family?"
He considers this only for a short while, because then he realizes that hey, if he's to become part of those fellas who are able to laugh like that, have fun like that? It's not a really bad thing to ask at all.
The crowd cheers as if they can hear his thoughts, but now he catches something else from the corner of his eye: A girl wearing a thin suit, face blocked away from view, running fast as if searching for something or someone. He feels something form in his hand all of a sudden, and when he opens it he finds a button in the center of his palm, and he wonders, "How did that get there?". It must be hers, he thinks, though he isn't sure exactly why he came to that conclusion. He just knows that it is.
When he raises his eyes to find her, though, there's an old man before him, with lines on his face that tells of his knowledge but the glint in his eye that warns of his corruption. The old geezer turns away and that's when he spots the girl, back towards him so he still can't see her features, and even if they're only walking they move away from him so quickly until they become a tiny dot against the darkness, before continually fading away.
But he isn't giving up that easily. So he tucks the button safely inside his pocket and places his complete focus on the path ahead.
And he runs.