10-24-2015, 09:48 PM
Sinestro slid his chair out and stood, nodding to the warrior that had begun to nurse a tall bottle of moonshine. “That’s right,” he said, a certain depth of confidence in his tone. “We don’t know where, or even what the Omniverse is. We all seem to be from completely conflicting realities, each of which with different physical laws, different beliefs, different gods or the absence thereof.”
He gazed out the window as the denizens of the city slowly began to crawl up from their hiding spots, the wounded and dead being gathered for treatment or disposal. “All we know is that we are here, and that all other attempts at escape have failed.”
He slid his finger over the window sill, smearing a streak of blood from it. He rubbed the substance between his fingers; eyebrows peaked as he dispassionately stared down at the viscous red on his white gloves, blinking as it was slowly consumed by a yellow flame. “They were burned away in the brightness of their own hubris.
“So this is our home now,” he gestured his hand over the ruined bar and jaggedly smashed furniture, stepping over a dead body as he did so. “This is what we have to live with for…” he glanced around the room at the various spectators, “what? Forever? Were we not all told by Omni that if we are to die that we will return anew? Is that not the rumor I have heard mumbled between those of us that call themselves Primes?”
Roland nodded knowingly, “Deputy’s right. Primes come back, no matter how many times you put a bullet ‘tween their eyes.” He took a drink from his whiskey and slowly shook his head, eyes locked on something far in the distance. “Don’t matter who puts it there.”
His eyes glowed yellow as the image of the Omniverse sprung back out of his ring, the hub spinning in front of them all on the table. “Somewhere out there,” each of the verses expanded to their actual proportion to each other, requiring an indicator of the town’s boundaries to illustrate its true vastness. It grew in every direction until the map overlaid the entire bar, the flickering gold sprawling in deep and intricate detail of the known areas of the verses. Large patches remained empty, no data yet collected and recorded.
“Yes, there could be some way to get back out of this place. Somewhere in the vastness of this place, with all of its impossible logic, there might be a way for us to return to where we came from.” He strode through the hologram, standing at the center as the entire image slowly rotated around him, amber tones under-lighting his face. “But why?”
The hologram collapsed back into the man’s hand, and he opened his fist. A small white orb dripped upwards from his palm, a sheen of prismatic light gleaming over its surface. “When here, we can finally make the world we’ve always wanted to see? Why live out our hollow, miserable, mortal existences when here, in this place, we can do anything? When we can be anything?”
The omnilium sunk back down into the lantern’s palm and merged with his body, his fingers gently closing over it. “Here, we can reclaim the lives we have lost, we can redeem the mistakes we have made, because here anything is possible.”
Holding his hand up to the bar, beads of energy rolled out and away from him, fusing into the broken glass and the bullet-scarred countertop. Slowly, the pieces of old cups began to merge and the wood’s splintered surface smoothed. Before long, the counter was revived, shining as fresh and clean as it had ever been.
He once again faced his companions and folded his hands behind his back. “We are not bound by anything but ourselves.”
He gestured out the door and into the streets of slowly normalizing chaos. “So why is it that this is the state of our newfound home? Why is it that my streets burn and the people, my people, are slaughtered for no other apparent reason than for the entertainment of a handful of insane marauders?”
Roland’s eyes slowly narrowed, “We do what we can with what we’ve got.”
“We have so much more now, Roland,” the korugaran replied with a taint of pride on his lips, “and we can do so much more.”
Crossing his arms, Roland leaned back into his chair, eyes narrowed. “What did you have in mind?”
“I suggest we bring the LAW to bear, sheriff.” The man couldn’t help but allow a sly smirk to appear as he sat back down at the table and interlaced his fingers. “With powerful Primes, we can make the Dunes stable again. We can wipe those who would create chaos off the face of verse, and create the order these people so yearn.”
Tapping his finger on the table firmly, Roland sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Alright, what specific you want to do?”
“First, a new brand of deputy, here in the town. Combat ready, tactically minded, and most importantly,” the man’s jewelry cast an image of an exact duplicate of itself, “trained to use one of these.”
“Can you make more of those?” Dean inquired, stuffing his pistol back into a holster at his waist.
Sinestro grinned slowly, “This ring is capable of duplicating itself, even if for a short time. With enough time and omnilium, I’m sure I could make more. Perhaps even permanent copies.” He returned his gaze to the grizzled peacekeeper that sat across the table, “Today would have never happened if I would have been able to create my Corps. All of this could have been avoided if only we had better trained law enforcers at the back of Primes like us. And if I can recruit more into our little ‘faction,’ we can spread that peace far enough that we might never hear of such a tragedy ever again.”
Roland strummed the tips of his fingers over the grain of the table, the wrinkles on his face twisted into knots as he contemplated the proposal. Finally he snatched the old-fashioned glass and finished his drink. His weary eyes locked with the lantern’s and, for a moment, he saw the fear that rested in the seat of that man’s spirit. It was a fear that he too had felt once, when he had the courage to let himself feel such things.
After another deep breath, the old man uttered, “Alright. Do what you gotta do.”
With that, he stood and made his way for the door, stopping at the threshold and glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t you let me down.”
He gazed out the window as the denizens of the city slowly began to crawl up from their hiding spots, the wounded and dead being gathered for treatment or disposal. “All we know is that we are here, and that all other attempts at escape have failed.”
He slid his finger over the window sill, smearing a streak of blood from it. He rubbed the substance between his fingers; eyebrows peaked as he dispassionately stared down at the viscous red on his white gloves, blinking as it was slowly consumed by a yellow flame. “They were burned away in the brightness of their own hubris.
“So this is our home now,” he gestured his hand over the ruined bar and jaggedly smashed furniture, stepping over a dead body as he did so. “This is what we have to live with for…” he glanced around the room at the various spectators, “what? Forever? Were we not all told by Omni that if we are to die that we will return anew? Is that not the rumor I have heard mumbled between those of us that call themselves Primes?”
Roland nodded knowingly, “Deputy’s right. Primes come back, no matter how many times you put a bullet ‘tween their eyes.” He took a drink from his whiskey and slowly shook his head, eyes locked on something far in the distance. “Don’t matter who puts it there.”
His eyes glowed yellow as the image of the Omniverse sprung back out of his ring, the hub spinning in front of them all on the table. “Somewhere out there,” each of the verses expanded to their actual proportion to each other, requiring an indicator of the town’s boundaries to illustrate its true vastness. It grew in every direction until the map overlaid the entire bar, the flickering gold sprawling in deep and intricate detail of the known areas of the verses. Large patches remained empty, no data yet collected and recorded.
“Yes, there could be some way to get back out of this place. Somewhere in the vastness of this place, with all of its impossible logic, there might be a way for us to return to where we came from.” He strode through the hologram, standing at the center as the entire image slowly rotated around him, amber tones under-lighting his face. “But why?”
The hologram collapsed back into the man’s hand, and he opened his fist. A small white orb dripped upwards from his palm, a sheen of prismatic light gleaming over its surface. “When here, we can finally make the world we’ve always wanted to see? Why live out our hollow, miserable, mortal existences when here, in this place, we can do anything? When we can be anything?”
The omnilium sunk back down into the lantern’s palm and merged with his body, his fingers gently closing over it. “Here, we can reclaim the lives we have lost, we can redeem the mistakes we have made, because here anything is possible.”
Holding his hand up to the bar, beads of energy rolled out and away from him, fusing into the broken glass and the bullet-scarred countertop. Slowly, the pieces of old cups began to merge and the wood’s splintered surface smoothed. Before long, the counter was revived, shining as fresh and clean as it had ever been.
He once again faced his companions and folded his hands behind his back. “We are not bound by anything but ourselves.”
He gestured out the door and into the streets of slowly normalizing chaos. “So why is it that this is the state of our newfound home? Why is it that my streets burn and the people, my people, are slaughtered for no other apparent reason than for the entertainment of a handful of insane marauders?”
Roland’s eyes slowly narrowed, “We do what we can with what we’ve got.”
“We have so much more now, Roland,” the korugaran replied with a taint of pride on his lips, “and we can do so much more.”
Crossing his arms, Roland leaned back into his chair, eyes narrowed. “What did you have in mind?”
“I suggest we bring the LAW to bear, sheriff.” The man couldn’t help but allow a sly smirk to appear as he sat back down at the table and interlaced his fingers. “With powerful Primes, we can make the Dunes stable again. We can wipe those who would create chaos off the face of verse, and create the order these people so yearn.”
Tapping his finger on the table firmly, Roland sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Alright, what specific you want to do?”
“First, a new brand of deputy, here in the town. Combat ready, tactically minded, and most importantly,” the man’s jewelry cast an image of an exact duplicate of itself, “trained to use one of these.”
“Can you make more of those?” Dean inquired, stuffing his pistol back into a holster at his waist.
Sinestro grinned slowly, “This ring is capable of duplicating itself, even if for a short time. With enough time and omnilium, I’m sure I could make more. Perhaps even permanent copies.” He returned his gaze to the grizzled peacekeeper that sat across the table, “Today would have never happened if I would have been able to create my Corps. All of this could have been avoided if only we had better trained law enforcers at the back of Primes like us. And if I can recruit more into our little ‘faction,’ we can spread that peace far enough that we might never hear of such a tragedy ever again.”
Roland strummed the tips of his fingers over the grain of the table, the wrinkles on his face twisted into knots as he contemplated the proposal. Finally he snatched the old-fashioned glass and finished his drink. His weary eyes locked with the lantern’s and, for a moment, he saw the fear that rested in the seat of that man’s spirit. It was a fear that he too had felt once, when he had the courage to let himself feel such things.
After another deep breath, the old man uttered, “Alright. Do what you gotta do.”
With that, he stood and made his way for the door, stopping at the threshold and glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t you let me down.”
![[Image: sig2.jpg]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v288/KrimTheUnsettler/sig2.jpg)