How Am I Driving?

Call me Ishmael. I work for the people who are going to save the world; this is something that you need to know up front. Their names don't matter. Identities are risks, so we go faceless through the fog. Legacies are different: Some call us "The Plot Killers," some call us "Legion," some call us "The Lonely Hearts," STAB calls us non-existent. That's a long story I'll kill another day. We don't use guns, though we do carry them for intimidation's sake. We don't go after civilians, not any more. We only go after the big game, the most dangerous game, the great game.

You might see God in birds (and Satan in long words), but we see ripples in rainbows (we see a flight in Bloom-- there are more things in Hell and Earth than can be contained in a blog). The forces of the elements conspire against us, but humanity will have its Sowing Season. We are the caretakers of this species, challenging our mighty pantheon for its authority.

Today we travel in our black van across the landscape, searching. A man has gone missing. He was last seen on December 8th, 2015. According to his daughter, he left his house without saying where he was going. She'd assumed he was heading to the bookshop or the grocery store, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She called us. We don't normally take Missing Persons cases, but then she showed us what her father had been working on: He was trying to find a way to empower anyone to be able to kill the dark gods.

His daughter doesn't think that he's dead. We think she's in denial. But we've allowed her to come along. One thing's for sure: If someone can complete his work, that would change everything.