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Pieces of Eight:
City of Heroes/City of Villains
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.
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“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
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.
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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