Project ROWDY 2-31

The house hadn’t changed.  The same pale siding stared back at him, the same crooked porch light that threw shadows wrong, the same smell of mildew working through gutters and wet leaves decomposing on the front steps.  He’d been standing on the sidewalk for… his internal chronometer said ninety-seven seconds, but he couldn’t deny that…

Cecil’s office smelled like old war and colder secrets. Steel walls, lightless corners, glass that didn’t reflect. Brick could tell with an idle look around the place that Cecil didn’t allow any surveillance in here. Which meant there was nothing keeping him from speaking the truth but his own choice. No cameras, no recorders, just…

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The atmosphere screamed as it parted, heat and friction shedding like scales against invincible flesh of the Mandate of Heaven. Pacific airspace blurred into a single streak of deep blue beneath him, the curvature of the earth itself bending to accommodate his path. His body sang, the voice of every one of his cells joining…

The technicolor trio that was the Trinity dropped out of the sky, each one of them taking in the defeated sigh of a ruined vista; a previously picture-perfect postcard picked to pieces. A single inhale told the oldest the air tasted wrong, thick with a heavy scent that he and all the Boys knew well…

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