Fate's Pull

By: Red Mage Neko

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First off, let me get a few things out of the way. YES, this is a self insertion. YES, there will almost certainly be crossovers with at least one series, a personnel favorite of mine, with almost certainly more at least hinted at. I won't tell you which one and let those who know it figure it out for themselves. My main inspiration behind this story is some stuff me and a fellow writer by the name of Bloody Angel X do on MSN when we're bored. Check him out. To be honest, he's probably a better writer then me.

I hope you'll all give this story more then a passing glance. I know I would instantly skim right past this when looking over stories, but I hope you enjoy it enough to keep coming back.

Now, lets get started.

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The void was a kalidascope of madness in every sense of the word. Sounds, some barely whispers, others more like shrikes filled the ears, filled the mind. Colors and shapes darted in and out of sight. There was no rythm, no flow. It was nothing but pure and utter madness, an assault on every sense. Just staring into this void could drive even the strongest of minds mad.

He did not know how long he had been stranded in this place. He couldn't even remember what had brought him here anymore. All that he could remember was the battle, a long, bloody battle, raged on the frozen wastes of a desolate world who's name he could no longer remember and the skies above it. A battle against men, men that had been driven to the point of madness, fighting with wild and bloody abandon, slaying anything and everything they saw around them. Men clad in armor that made them appear as titans among men. He had killed many of them himself, but that had not been the only horror they had brought to bear.

Huge weapons of war, seeming to be nothing more then machines until one took a closer inspection. These machines had become warped, corrupted by some unknown power to the point that they seemed almost alive, thristing for blood as their masters did. Demons, spawned as if from the very depths of hell itself, seeking nothing more then to slay, massacre, and destroy. They seemed to take pleasure in the screams of their victims and had done everything to draw them forth. Even as he tried to recall more, his mind seemed to shut down. It could not, would not relive those horrors again.

In the end, he had been forced to flee that world. But even then they would not relinquish the hunt. They had chased after him even as the world became little more but a memory. Wave after wave they had crashed against him and the few survivors remaining from that bloody battle. They had fought bitterly, but it was for naught. The final attack had been the most fatal. As he looked down at his grey armor, so similar to those of his attackers (Why am I wearing such a thing?), he could see the dark stains that marred its once pristine gleam. Across the chest was a large crimson stain, the blood of an ally, a friend (What was his name?). The blade at his side, an odd fusion of a sword and chainsaw, the edges so small and fine they were almost impossible to make out, were similarly marred with spilled blood, the sheer volume and density hinting at the bloody carnage this blade had seen. His hands, his forearms ... they were covered in blood as well, a pool of blackness on the radiant armor. Much of it had been the blood of his enemies. But some ... some was also the blood of friends.

He had been the only one to survive, right until the very end. But his enemies had played their last card. They had trapped him in this void, this hell. He did not know how long he had been here. Time itself had no meaning here. He could do nothing to stop the madness from assaulting him from every side, trying to claim him as its own. He had even tried to kill himself, to cut off his own head with the same blade that was turned dark by enemies blood, crush his own skull with the same hands that had become so blackened by the blood of both friend and foe alike, just to make it all stop. But this place only laughed at him. They would not let him die, oh no. They were not through with him.

And so he was resigned to his fate, waiting for the madness to claim him. And yet, somewhere, deep in the void of his own mind, a place even he did not know anymore, something fought on, fighting to hold itself to this shell.

And it cried out for help.

It cried out for freedom.

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The Teen Titans, despite the hectic nature that their calling had on their lives, still managed to keep a mostly regular routine. For the group, it was always Robin who awoke first, always with the dawn. And he always began the day with training that would often go on for hours. During this stretch of time, Raven would awaken. Even Robin never knew exactly when. But it never failed that he would find her in the tower's commons area, buried in one tome or another, a cup of tea in her hands. Starfire was the next to arise, greeting her comrades with an expurence and good cheer that seemed very off for such an hour. Then she would go about the task of making breakfast for her fellow Titans, which was both a blessing and a curse, due to her still limited understanding of human cuisine and her tendency to make Tamaranian dishes. Cyborg was next, given the unevinable task of awaking Beast Boy, who could, had, and WILL sleep until three in the afternoon if given they opportunity.

And this was the scene Robin expected to find when he arrived in the commons area after his training. And, in a way, he did. But Raven was different today. She was in her usual spot, following her usual routine. But Robin was a detective first and foremost, one that had been trained by the greatest in the world. While Raven was very good at surpressing her emotions, Robin's keen eye could tell something was wrong with the sorcoress. The way she sat in her seat, the movement of her eyes over the page, the way she gripped her tea. She was tired, very tired. She had been like this for days. Robin had asked about it a few days before, but Raven had brushed him off about it, telling the boy wonder that it was nothing. And since it didn't seem to be effecting her duties as a Titan, Robin had let it drop. It was one of the three certainties of this world. Death will always exist, you will always have to pay taxes, and Raven would always have secrets.

And so, despite his wish to know what was bothering the young sorceress so, he continued on to the kitchen for a drink.

Raven's eyes cracked up for her book for the briefest of moments, watching the Titans leader continue on to the kitchen. He knew the question that plagued him so, but he also knew that he would not understand. Even she did not understand it. For days now, in her slumber, she heard a voice calling out for her. At first, she had feared it was her father, the demon Trigon, seeking to reach out to her yet again. But this voice was not his. This voice was soft, no more then a whisper despite the fact that it always felt like it was screaming out, muffled by some force that she did not see nor sense. She could never make out the words, only a sense of pain, of desperation. But that pain was not aimed at her, nor was it a physical pain. She had gone through her books, used her vast knowledge of the magical arts, but even that only gave her the faintest of hints. Whatever this cry was, it was from a great distance. But not a distance of worlds. It was a distance of plains, of realities. It was not the realm of death, that she would have been able to ascertain rather quickly. No, this was from a realm even she had not identified.

A part of her wanted to just block it out, to errect some kind of barrier against that voice. Perhaps it was out of self preservation, perhaps it was out of pure selfishness. But she could not allow herself to do that. To turn her back on this plea, for she was certain it was a plea, would be the same as ignoring a crime that happened before her very eyes. And she had sworn to herself long ago that she would never allow herself to do such a thing. She would step beyond the touch of her Father, do good with her life despite his influence.

But the question was, how?

It was at this moment that the quiet of the morning was shattered. Blaring alarms filled the once quiet tower, breaking the peace. With reflexes and an unfortunatly high level of experience, Robin darted into the commons room and began typing away into the powerful Titans mainframe. Starfire quickly darted into the room, aided by her powers of flight. She had obviously been caught of guard and appeared to have only halfway gotten done through her morning routine. "What is happening? Has the evil, nasty, rotten Dr. Light escaped from prison again? Or perhaps the odious Control Freak? Or is it-"

"Starfire." It was Robin who interrupted the Tamaranian, his voice the same soft tone he always seemed to take with her.

Starfire's mouth instantly snapped shut, a blush creeping into her features. "Oh. Forgive me."

A chuckle drifted from the door as Cyborg walked in, carrying Beast Boy with one hand. The green elf was still clutching onto his pillow and trying to sleep. "So, who we got today?"

A whine escaped from Beast Boy. "And why can't they wait another four hours to do whatever it is their doing!?!"

Robin chose to listen to the first question and ignore the latter, typing away at the keys. An image winked into existance on the main monitor, a direct feed from a security camera. It showed the HIVE Five, the name far more appropriate since the Mistress of Hex's, Jinx, left the group after the battle against the Brotherhood of Evil. After that battle, they had thought they had seen the last of many of their old foes. But an incident at the holding facility in Paris they were being stored in had seen the release of many such villians, including these five. The incident was still being investigated of course, but unfortunatly, such things were common and slow to be worked out, particularly when they extended across international levels. And so the Titans and other heroes were left to clean it up.

A groan escaped Cyborg when he saw the group. "Dude, don't these guys EVER learn?"

Beast Boy echoed his larger friend, curling up into his pillow more. "You guys can handle it, right? Night night."

Robin scowled at the elf, standing up. "It may be the HIVE Five, but we should still take it seriously. Now come on. They're at the museum."

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Gizmo growled in frustration, using one of the mechanical limbs that sprouted from his backpack like those of a derranged spider to slap the red clad Billy Numerous in the head, his voice a high pitched whine. "YOU MORON!!!! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING YET!!!!"

Billy through his arms over his head, in turn dripping the priceless 16th Century vase he had been holding and causing it to shatter on the floor. Glaring at the young genius, a second Billy poked his head from around an ancient suit of Samurai armor, calling out in a thick southern accent. "Hey, its not OUR fault you work so slow."

"What!?!?!" The pint sized genius looked ready to go for one of lasers he carried in his pack when the slight frame of the cyclopian villian See-More moved between them. "Knock it off guys. We need to get in and get out, right?"

Mammoth was already busying himself with dragging crates out of the museum warehouse they were in. The final member of the group, the enigmatic Kyd Wykkyd, looked around nervously, something keeping the mute teleporter on edge. It was like a whisper, fading in and out of existance at the very edge of his mind.

He was still trying to make it out when a shout from next to him caused him to jump in fright, landing in a heap on the floor. Billy number 2 winced. "Whoops. Sorry buddy."

Kyd Wykkyd glared up at his team mate and began to pick himself up, only to be knocked back down by the massive frame of Mammoth. Billy yelped and jumped back, looking towards where Mammoth had come flying from and finding the Titans standing there. A groan escaped the southern thief. "Awwwwwww dangit!!!!"

Robin twirled the steel shaft of his bo staff, resting it against his shoulder as he shook his head at the villians. "You know, you guys could save a lot of time if you just gave up."

A snarl filled the air, but one that managed to feel less threatening and more like a poodle or some other small dog clearing its throat. "Yeah right you skuzmunching barfsniffers!!!" A half dozen laser rifles sprouted from Gizmo's back, the distinct whine of their charging filling the air.

Robin released a soft sigh, shaking his head. "It was worth a shot."

Cyborg cracked his cybernetic knuckles, grinning. "This way is more fun anyways. We haven't had a decent problem in a week. I could use the exercise."

And so the melee began.

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He lifted his head slightly, his eyes darting through the maddening void around him. What little of his sanity remained had thought it had heard something that hadn't belonged here.

Narrowing his eyes, he peered into the void, trying to force his gaze through the madning kaladiscope of colors and shaped that swirled in the void. For a moment, he thought this place was just playing its tricks on him again.

But then he saw it. A single shape, no similar from the millions that darted in and out of his eyes, his mind. But this one was different from all the others. It didn't move, didn't waver.

Something else was here as well.

Forcing his legs and arms to move, he struggled forward even as the voices began to grow louder, more frantic. They sensed that something was wrong.

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A wave of dark energy formed a shield around Raven as another crate was chucked in her direction by six Billy's, the replecator having formed over two dozen clones in the hopes of overwhelming the Titans with sheer numbers. And despite her best efforts, she realized that it was working. The cry had started to grow louder, more focused. The words still illuded her, but she could feel something clawing at her mind, a force she had never encountered before scratching at the edges of her senses. It was distracting her, slowing her reactions and even a fool like Billy could see it.

As she was distracted by the numerous Billy clones launching whatever they could get their hands on at her, a single one slipped away from the battle and darted up to a small control room set off from the main warehouse. This was the control center for the numerous small cranes that were situated from the rafters of the building, used to haul the various artifacts that were brought into the warehouse all over the building. Fingers darting over the controls, he struggled to make heads or tails of the mechanisms. Finally finding what he was looking for, his fingers flew over the various buttons and levers, moving one of the cranes, loaded down with a heavy crate, silently over the warehouse to a certain point.

A point directly over Raven.

Grinning, he slammed one finger home on a large red button. The chains holding the crate suspended in midair instantly released, sending its heavy load hurting down towards the young sorceress.

Glancing up at the sound of the chains giving way, a gasp escaped Raven's lips as the crate hurtled down at hers. Instincts hoaned by daily training kicked in, forming a dome of dark energy around her. The crate smashed into it, shattering instantly and spilling its contents over her shield. She could make out that a suit of armor had been inside the crate as it started to slide down the dome.

Raven couldn't quite surpress the tiny smile that crossed her features. Billy would have to do a lot more then that to beat her.

That smile instantly froze when the armor stopped slidding down almost halfway. What she saw was impossible. The armor's fingers had stopped its fall, digging into her shield, halting its slide. The EMPTY suit of armor. Or at least, that's what she thought it was.

That thought began to lose its validity as a pair of blood red eyes started to form from deep within the helmet of the armor.

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He could make out the figure now. It was vaguely human, a dark crimson aura surrounding it. But even as he watched, it began to fade.

Desperation gripping his heart, he shurged forward faster, struggling against the bonds that struggled to keep him to this place. The voices were shrieking at him now, clawing deeper and deeper into his mind.

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Even as Raven watched, her energy was seeping into the armor, bringing motion to the dark metal. The crimson eyes deep within its helm were growing brighter as it gazed at her. She could sense the malice, the rage, the pure hunger for destruction behind those eyes. It was almost an unthinking creature.

She tried to stop her powers, but she couldn't. It was pouring into the armor now, filling it. Long unused joints started to creak as the armor began to flex its limbs.

Its gaze fixing on her, a sudden roar filled the air as its limbs surged outward, her shield failing and exploding outwards, sending Raven flying. Its roar began to turn into a cackle, then a full blown laugh. But this was a laugh of madness, of sheer, unthinking malice.

From her position on the floor of the warehouse, she could see the armor much more clearly. The armor was a dark black, but it seemed as if even after hundreds of years of disuse, it still was marred with the blood of those its owner had killed. A trio of spikes jutted from each shoulder paulidon of the armor out of a stylized skull, one from each eye socket, the third from the mouth. It took her a moment to realize that the skull wasn't infact a part of the armor and she felt her stomach turn a bit. Around its neck were four more skulls held in place by thick, sinewy rope braided from hair that she hoped and prayed wasn't what she thought it was from. A heavy, double bladed axe still hung at the armors side, its edges still dark with long dried blood, attesting to a lifetime of bloodshed and carnage.

As she watched, the armor reached down and gripped the shaft of the axe, pulling it from its side and raising the massive blade with a single hand. Lunging forward, she watched as the blade was brought down at her skull with a cry of "Another skull for the skull throne!!!!".

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The figure had faded almost completly as he got closer, but now he could see something else, as if looking through a foggy window. Watching as the armor began to surge forward, he could see the same crimson aura surrounding it as the figure that was fading even now. He could see the axe dropping towards the young womans skull, but his mind didn't seem to register the scene. He saw it as little more then watching a movie.

But then he heard the cry.

"Another skull for the skull throne!!!"

A sudden wave of rage, of pure hatred shurged through his body. Hatred aimed at that figure. He didn't know quite where it came from, but he didn't care.

Without hesitation, he launched himself towards the window. For a moment, it seemed to hold and the voices picked up once again. But just as suddenly, it gave way and the voices shrieked in anger.

He had escaped.

He was free.

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As suddenly as the armor came to life, another limb seemed to shoot out of nowhere, locking itself with the axe, a heavily armored forearm slipping under the head of the axe against the shaft of the weapon, keeping it from going forward. The eyes of both attacker and attacked darted to this new arrival.

Clad in ivory grey armor, a stylizied death's head mask was inset in the helmet of the armor. A strange mechanism was mounted on the back, twin spurs jutting from it as an electrical current ran back and forth along them, both prongs encased in what she could only guess was reinforced plexiglass of the kind used in armored windows. While whoever was wearing that armor had their eyes completly hidden from view by a pair of opaque lenses set into the mask, Raven could almost feel the anger and hatred boiling off them, directed at the creature wielding the axe. But its mind seemed to be darting back and forth frantically, a jumble of thoughts and emotions that mixed together erratically. But there was a sense of great pain in that mind at well, a lancing stab of agony deep into its core. It was that pain that told her who this ... person was.

It was the same person who had been crying out to her before.

As she watched, her savior pulled back a gauntleted fist and shot it forward into the helm of her attacker, sending the reanimated armor reeling backwards a few steps. A snarl escaped the armor as the grey warrior stood to his full height, towering over Raven and perhaps even Cyborg. The two gazed at eachother for a moment, neither moving, locked in a battle of wills.

With movement that defied the naked eye, the black armor surged forward, axe flashing out towards the grey warrior's chest, a berserker howl escaping its master. Hand darting down, grey grasped the hilt of a large blade at his side, raising it up into a block, a whir of motion filling the air as teeth set into the blade roared to life, sawing through the air. The two weapons clashed with enough force to send both combatents back a step, a harsh ring from the impact filling the air. The ringing hadn't even died when the two were at eachother again, blades flashing in the dull lighting of the warehouse.

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An almost primal thrill surged through his body from deep within the very core of his being as blade met blade, his eyes staring into the bloody orbs hidden within that armor. Even now, the aura around it was growing, once dead flesh begining to grow back into that armor, twisted and warped by their "blessings.", fusing the two together as one. Who's blessing and why, he did not know. But his body seemed to recognize it all its own, calling out to the armor in a halting, barking language that few mortals ears had heard, that gratted at the edges of sanity. The mere utterance of it sent chills down his spine as he realized he knew the words, but where he had learned them or where that knowledge had come from within his own mind eluded him. "Your end has come, minion of the Lord of Battles. No skulls shall you find here."

The creature issued a snarl of pure rage, replying in the same dark, maddening language. "You dare to challenge Gilgash the Slayer?" Flourishing its axe, the creature, for the armor could no longer be called anything but a living being, pointed the dark blade at his head. "I accept and will gladly lay add your skull to my standard!!!!"

With that, the battle began again, but with a renewed fury. Gilgash was a whirlwind of fury and murder, powering towards him with murder in his eyes. Any guard he placed before him, Gilgash would merely batter aside with his mighty axe. He knew a single blow from that mighty blade could cripple him, so he was forced on the defensive, evading or blocking each attack as best he could. His armor responded as if a part of him, granting him incredible power and speed, putting him on the same level as the demon before him.

But even with his speed, he couldn't end the battle. In a battle between axe and sword, sword would always hold the edge for the simple fact that it allowed it user more mobility and angles for attack. And he was landing hits. For every strike Gilgash launched, he evaded and launched one of his own, his blade impacting heavily with the armor, cutting deeply into it. But even as he pulled his blade free, the wounds sealed back shut, healing before his very eyes. The armor and wearer were living creatures, granted great strength by their patron, making them demons in perhaps the most literal sense on the battlefield.

The two were locked in a stalemate. A stalemate that worked in Gilgash's favor. For as the battle waged on, his rage grew, granting him more strength, more power. Every hit only enraged him further, making his attacks more powerful. Gilgash could sense his opponents weakness and it made him hunger for blood, hunger for the slaughter that was to come once this obsticle was gone.

Lashing out with his mighty axe, Gilgash watched as his opponent ducked and spun aside, letting the blow pass over his head as he slashed into the thigh of his armor. Even as his axe smashed into the steel support column that acted as one of the numerous braces for the network of cranes set into the celing, smashing and ripping the heavy steel gurder in half, he could feel the pain from the blow. But it did not hinder him, only surving to enrage him further, his lust for blood growing.

Turning violently to face his foe again, Gilgash lashed out, howling out a wordless battlecry. Sliding once again under the wide swing, he prepared to bring the blade up into Gilgash's sternum. Instead, he was met with an armor clad fist, slamming into his face and cracking the ornamental mask covering his features, spiderweb lines of cracks and fractures running across its bone white surface, the impact of the blow sending him reeling. Gilgash followed up with a punch into his chest. He could feel his ribs crack even though he was wearing the heavy armor, sending lances of pain up and down his spine with each breath. He didn't even have time to recover before he was backhanded with a forearm to the chest, sending him flying a few meters before slamming into the top of three crates, his massive frame smashing the wooden frames and priceless artifacts secured inside.

When his eyes opened a split second later, he saw Gilgash already dropping towards him, axe screaming through the air towards his head. Reacting with battle honed instincts, his body twisted away without concious thought, rolling across the floor away from the blow.

The sheer force of the stone shattered the hardened concrete, caving it in, dropping Gilgash and a number of crates down into a sinkhole that dropped right into the sewers below the warehouse. He nearly joined him, but an outstretched hand gripped onto one of the few solid pieces of concrete remaining, anchoring him in place. As he pulled himself up, he saw a cloaked woman moving closer, one he had never seen before. He was about to speak, but a sharp whistling noise pierced the air.

His head darted down just in time to see Gilgash's axe flying up from the darkness towards him. With no option left, he released his hand hold and dropped down into the darkness just as the weapon impacted, shattering more of the floor and dropping the woman down with him.

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As Raven's eyes began to refocus, her ears rang painfully. As her eyes continued to clear, she saw that it wasn't injury that caused the ringing. The massive black armored creature was holding the grey one up by the collar joint of his armor, holding him up off the ground as he rained blow after blow into his now unarmored face. For a moment, she didn't even realize that his helmet had been knocked off by one of the many blow hammering into him. It was as if she knew what he looked like under the helmet before she had seen it. However, a part of her WAS surprised by one thing. The fact that he looked so ... young. He couldn't be any more then a few years older then herself. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but she could see that the other was a shade of aqua grey bordering on green. His dark brown hair was matted with blood and grime from the merciless beating he was recieving, his face cut in numerous places, blood running down his face.

Even as Raven watched, Gilgash pulled the young armored man closer, glaring at him through the slits in his visor, growling at him in a tounge different from the one he had used when they first talked. This time it spoke in english, though deep and heavily accented english. "You fought well young one." Pulling back his fist, Raven saw that it was caked in still wet blood. "Your skull will make a fine trophy to offer before Khorne."

Raven pulled herself to her feet, preparing to unleash her dark magics on the monster before he finished the grey one off. But in a movement even her eyes missed, the grey one's hand lashed out, grasping the cocked back fist in his own powerful grasp, locking it in place as his one still open eye locked on Gilgash's. Grinning with cracked and bloody lips, he answered the dark beast, this time in english. "Since your so obsessed with skulls-" Suddenly lashing out with his other hand, he grasped Gilgash's helmet. "Maybe I should take yours!!!"

The words had not even finished escaping his lips before the spurs on his back suddenly flared to life, extending out and crackling with a barely contained energy. A flash of light exploded out from them, blinding Raven temporarily as she threw an arm over her face. But as soon as the light exploded, it was gone. Slowly lowering her arm, she gazed to where the two warriors had stood moments before. The grey one was gone, but what remained made bile rise up into her throat.

Gilgash still stood, but the entire front of his helmet was gone. She could see into it where flesh and metal had fused together as one, where a large chunk of what could be called a skull had been ... torn away from the rest of the body. Blood ran in great rivers from the gaping hole in its face, as well as from where its hand had once been. It to was gone, torn away from the wrist down. As she watched, the body fell backwards into the waste water of the sewer, splashing up the foul water when its heavy mass impacted, only to fall back atop it.

Silence reigned for a few long moments before another splash filled the deadly silence. Turning quickly, dark energy formed in the palm of her hand to face this new threat. Staring back at her was the grey one, the water around his feet turning blood red. She could guess what lay beneath its surface and she had no wish to see it. Grey eyes met blue as the two stared at eachother for what felt like an eternity. While ones eyes were shielded, guarded against anything from years of training, the others were open, and yet ... empty, lacking any true depth.

Finally, the silence was broken as the grey one smirked at her. "Got a smoke? I haven't had one in ... well, not sure how long."

Raven blinked, taken aback by the strange question. Before she could answer however, his eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed forward into the water. Shock coursed down her spine as she saw one of the prongs extending from his armor had exploded, burning through the metal and flesh beneath.

She could hear her allies approaching as she moved forward, pulling the young man's head from the foul water. Even as she did so, millions of unanswered questions ran through her mind.

THIS had been the one calling out to her from across the void. But who was he? WHY!?!

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It had many names and even more faces. It was both the hope and the damnation of all living things. Such delicious irony pleased it. But at this moment, it raged, crying out in a roar that ripped the minds of any who heard it to shreds. Its prey had been stolen from its grasp. It hungred for it, wanted nothing more then to savor it. But even now, it could sense it. It had been pulled from its prison by an outside power, one that could tap into that same void. A power that had long, long been dormant. That power had disapered, he could sense it. Its "brother" would be pleased despite the fact that his pawn was dead. All that fool wanted was more skulls, more blood to be spilled. It didn't matter to him who died, as long as someone did.

That was what seperated it from its "siblings". It knew that besting your foes was being a hundred moves ahead of them, forcing them to move to your orders. While it had lost its prey, it was already preparing to reclaim it.

The only one to ever have broken free from its plans would be reclaimed.

His soul would once more be in its control.

And it would relish devouring him.

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It really is amazing what your mind comes up with when fueled by a lack of sleep, an overload of caffine and sugar, and to many hours of video games. Hopefully this will meet with they approval of my peers. ... That is to say, all three of you.

Anyways, R&R. Reviews feed the madness that is called by some my mind.