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None who go into the

Land of revenge and reason

Emerge with shoulders

Light of sin .

L. L. Tyrrell.


Yes, this starts at the beginning.

The beginning where I was dug from the ground, fully in tact, but with fresh scars to match those I received years ago.

I was dug from the ground by a mechanical man, a primitive one. One with a mans face on a flickering screen and a high pitched Southern-drawl that has been drilled into my head for a long while now.

Yes, this starts at the beginning.

The beginning where I met a town without a past, grown from the ashes of a world long passed.

The dust and grime had settled into the wood, the planks dried on the ground, brittle from the desert, hard from the rains. It stunk of spit and dynamite, rot and ruin, forgotten by so many but with the friendliest faces you would ever meet.

Yes, this starts at the beginning.

The beginning where I blinked with new eyes, moved with no strings, from an old bed that smelt like piss and antiseptic.

The room is dark, the curtains are drawn, and a thick accent hums from the radio at the foot of the bed but I never focused on it because my heart had already been hammering in my chest because I hadn't known where I was.

Yes, this starts at the beginning.

A beginning so many find boring, tedious, done too many times because a hero's tale has to be told over and over again, but it gets new strings, it gets new patches to missing detail, the hero is painted in so many ways where, in the end, you wonder if they were really the hero all along.


Face claim is Natasha Romanoff, just to let everyone know.

This story will be long, this story does not lack detail, this story is also open to suggestions, praise and criticism.

I hope you all enjoy.

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