A multi-dimensional object that is, in shape and movement, part digital glitch and part sea urchin. It’s a shade of deep, massive gloss black. Darker than black, darker than death. It’s the color black that makes a noise like a planet collapsing. It’s shape is eating itself and exploding outwards, broiling tumultuously. You’re a mile above the massive city, with sky scrapers reaching to the sky like hope, looking down with no body, watching it roll sky-scraper tall, into the center of the neon night, shanghai future. It’s here-but-not-here, it’s in a layer directly on top of a lay person’s run of the mill 3-dimensions, visible to you, real to you, but not manifested as such. This is good because otherwise everyone would be dead.
An underground environment lit by fluorescent lighting, Parisian subway tiles on the wall. It’s here, with you, bus sized. This time, manifested. Everyone is not dead yet. You and your team—team spelled “family,” as you’ve been through it all together, like that one time you barely pulled it off at the last minute to stop that nearly world-ending debacle, last month—and all of you and it are sharing in the same realities, so you all have bodies and associated delicacies. It came here to fight you. Luckily, you’re a goddamn weapon, and you’re carrying one too (something very Japanese, with a sleek energy that is definitely for killing), and you unsheath with style. Obviously, you’re here to scrap, for honor or mankind or whatever. It’s not important for what specifically, but what is important is that you’re gonna fucking win, because this is what you’re made for. You’re something like the son of a fallen god, and you’re ready to fuck shit up.
It pops into a million spikes and then inhales itself into a smooth wave and then breaks into a digital mass and then it freezes as a voluminous scream, a dark-matter Rorschach. Before you have time to move, deeper than the oceans, deeper a man lost in the crushing abyss space, deeper than the tomb of God closing shut
YOU CONTINUE TO JUSTIFY YOUR OWN FLAWS THROUGH A DESIRE TO BE YOUR OWN ANTIHERO DESPITE KNOWING THAT IT HURTS THOSE WHO CARE FOR YOU
you yell a battle cry and with the smooth ease of an athlete
WHAT MEANINGFUL AND POSITIVE IMPACT DO YOU HAVE ON THE WORLD AT LARGE THAT’S UNIQUE TO YOUR EXISTENCE
in shock, the world blurring, screams echoing
YOU SAY NEXT TIME EVERY TIME BUT STILL LASH OUT AT THOSE WHO CARE FOR YOU DUE TO YOUR MEDIOCRITY
your teammates kill themselves
HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THE DISPARITY BETWEEN YOUR AMBITION AND YOUR INADEQUACY
you alone stand determined
YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SOMEBODY
you fall to your knees
A moment later. You look at your lethally-Japanese-but-also-futuristic-looking-ass weapon, it’s important end on your temple, and realize that it’s useless. This is gonna be different than before. You pull the trigger.