"It will be just like the good old days."
Yes, it would be like the old times. Before Father's tyranny (weak old fool. Bloated with his own self importance. I hated him). Before Republic City.
Before the mask.
I had lost everything. My reputation, my followers, my cause. But instead of feeling anger or loss, I felt strangely…relieved.
I had lost thousands of my followers, and in turn gained something that mattered more than any of them.
My brother.
He wasn't a subordinate, or a disciple or a second in command. He was family.
Everything and anything was possible. We could accomplish great things together - or, maybe not.
Maybe we could just…be?
Something bloomed in my chest. Something I had not felt in a long, long time.
Hope.
And then my world turned to black, and I fell into the arms of the unknown.
I was no longer a savior.
I was no longer a revolutionary,
I was no longer Amon.
I was no longer.
