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Pieces of Eight:
The Dammed

City of Heroes/City of Villains
Fan Fiction by
Anthony Harte

    At dusk forlorn shimmering emerald eyes blazed at the memorial tombstone forcing the black and bright green uniformed figure to grind his teeth in disgust. A tsunami of memories flooded his emotions threatening to sweep him away. He walled up the pressure with a dam built from his super ego a monument to the years of practice from self-discipline.

    “You have been forgotten my friend,” he said his hand stretched forth gripping the top of the tombstone. “I wasn’t there for your final moments, but I of all people appreciate your sacrifice. I have returned from the ever-after, while you have not.”

    The rising water stilled.

    A chilled autumn breeze sent scattered leaves to silhouette in the evening sky above drawing the far-flung gaze of the mourner his earthen eyes living in the past.

    “If she were here it is without a doubt she would have paid her respects. You maybe forever lost to us and they have abandoned you to our memories.”

    He kicked the year old potted flowers and spat a curse from the grave. She could be forgiven. The rest… were undeserving dogs lapping at a borrowed bowl of tepid water.

    The water grew turbulent and pulsed with thrashing waves; a struggle took place beneath the surface.

    “I swear this, I will find your slayers and deliver unto them a fiery death far greater than any of the Damned have witnessed in the depths of Hell.”

    Emotions surged behind the dam swollen in the torrent of pain, loneliness, and loss. He could not allow his fury to escape. The years of training began to unravel. He had come to view Brian as a brother, but only in his friend’s death did he realize that “mistake.”

    Cracks formed in the dam fingering out like webs of the Arachnos.

    Norman Salazar crouched low and leapt into the wind currents with a powerful thrust of his legs. The death of Brian Sutter, and his own, splintered a fragment of his reality. One from a life he did not remember nor belong to anymore. This gray fuzziness gnawed at him begging for a solution. He felt others were lost to him, but he could not remember who they were. Recalling the image of the reporter, part-time hero, only stung him deeper. It sickened him how quickly Onami forgot him. Among the stone death markers, he felt he had lost much. He had lost more than just a friend, but also a brother.

    More than a brother, but also a lover.

    More than a lover, but also a wife.

    More than a wife, but also a daughter.

    A daughter.

    Norman’s name was lost to those he tried to remember. Looking through his mind’s eye was like evoking someone else’s dream. A single tear fell to the sacred earth, shed from the fog of shrouded mental imagery.

    Hit by a dark-bodied, white-capped Cresting Wave the leaky dam held.


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