Killing Time... Again. by Flag

Killing Time... Again. Urban decay was a common side-effect of massively populated areas, and this sun-sleepy southern city which he silently regarded as his birthplace upon this planet was no exception. It had more than it's share of dilapidated and condemned structures and although they should have been torn down, they remained standing as a constant reminder of how local politics often got in the way of real progress. In this "historic district" he found that he had a particular affinity for an old bank, as it was here that he awoke on Earth for the first time and found himself face-to-face with the only person on this planet that would take him under her wing. However, he was not here now to reminisce and was instead counting paces within the grand lobby of this building. The light of the moon reflected off of the river as well as a much larger glass structure to serve him with enough light to work by. The only challenge he would face this evening came with the dust as it both blinded him and made it difficult to breath as he moved. After counting our 90 paces, he found himself within inches of the wall opposite from where he started. Although he would have preferred to have more room to work with, this was enough. He pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket and started drawing a large diagram on the floor. This was not his favorite medium to work with, but it was the only one that wouldn't gain him unwanted attention from both the homeless outside and the authorities that they could contact. It took him almost the entire night to draw out the circles just right- six of them in total. It was a diagram that featured a small circle in the center, which was surrounded by 4 more of the same size. All of these were then encapsulated by a much larger circle that took up almost the entire width of the room. Once he was finished he sat down next to where he has discarded his cloak and sweat-soaked shirt. From a pocket he withdrew a small drawstring bag that contained an odd assortment of things: a vile of blessed water, a bag of tea, a cigarette, a zippo lighter, and a somewhat larger than normal diamond necklace, which he had purchased in Morocco with the money that he earned from his ACME tower heist. He walked around and placed the various items at the center of the 4 equidistant circles. He, however, continued to hold onto the necklace as he made his way to the center of the room/diagram. As he rubbed the surface of the pendant with his thumb, he thought about his journey up to this point. It had been a long strange journey, the recent path of which more than likely started in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. For reasons that the inhabitants of this dimension wouldn't understand, he had been rescued by the members of a traveling circus. It's owner was a philospher of sorts and after discovering his secret had become fascinated by the Sivoan. It was his conversations with this dwarf of a man that allowed him to realize that he just might have the abilty to undo all of his suffering. The diamond between his thumb and forfinger had grown warm in his hand and he diverted his attention back to it. It was time to begin the pre-ritual. The electrified air of the newly sun-lit morning drove him to chant softly in his native tongue - a somewhat harsh and guttural sound, that had an oddly natural flow between words - and shape his hands so that the diamond was practically floating between his fingers. As the words left his mouth, an invisible energy began to form at the tips of his fingers and caused them to blister. He had expected this and withstood the pain of it so that he could redirect the energy into the magnificent gemstone he was holding. It was at this point that his research had failed him and the diamond shattered on a microscopic level and practically evaporated into a opalescent cloud of dust. He cursed in his language and threw the fine necklace chord to the ground. He had never been this close to recovering what he had lost when he arrived on either of the three versions of this planet and this failure struck a nerve. He would have to try again.