All that remained was grey and black , like clouds. The black was evil, and there was no heart left in them, except the longing for something more. Something they had forsaken long ago. Something that had been taken from , alone, with no light, they turned to things that only drug them further away. Chems. Bloodshed. Caps. And continually they grew emptier. The darkness consumed the grey little by little. The grey had little heart and little drive, they submitted readily.

Anything they had to live for was taken, too. And the only thing to strive for, white, purity, goodness, was gone. They were just as lost as the dark. Little by little the distinction became less clear, it was all darkness, ripping at itself. Shooting, stabbing, taking, always taking. Reaching for what was lost. And when it seemed like the bottom had been found it just went deeper and the dark got darker.

And then, all that remained was black.

They were afraid. No matter how deep they dug, they were only emptier. Was this part of the human condition? That was the question that dug into their minds like splinters that could never be pulled out, only left in to fester and dig and tear further. Hope had ceased to exist, and without the humans crawled with nothing.

The dark got darker.

They grew increasingly ignorant and increasingly desperate, their souls screamed out like howling wolves, seeking sustenance and finding none. They envied the beasts of the wastes, dumb beasts though they were. Ignorance is bliss. And soon, some became like them, nothing but beasts. Nothing but killers. And that was the black that was Absolute, the complete consumption of humanity. In it all there was no shred of knowledge for escape, no savior, no love, no sympathy no humanity.

But one dark cloud received a new chance. Ironically, he received it through the very thing that brought it all to begin with, the central core of human nature; a grab for power.

Those two bullets were like sunshine, tearing through his brain, clearing away all the darkness. He glimpsed something incredible, something new, he touched it with a finger. And suddenly, it was all ripped away again, and the cloud emerged anew like a phoenix rising from the ashes!

A new being. A better being. He returned white into a black world, and slowly it spread to other. Grey came back, and then white. The black saw a glimpse of truth, of life, and those that saw grabbed for it desperately. Anything to ease the pain! They thought. But it wasn't just a quick fix, another dead end. What they grasped was Hope itself, and light returned to their lives and the black became white and the world breathed fresh again. Soon grey became more common then black, and though given only a glimpse, these clouds, like blind men clutching through darkness, bettered themselves. Though this movement was small, it picked up steam. Those very few it first touched picked up their crosses to spread hope.

The wastes slowly became better. Even those who had never heard of the things happening felt it, the wastes became a different place. The air was lighter, things felt happy again. Though black remained, and mostly grey prevailed, life was better.

But still, the Absolute Blacks remained, gazing at this new thing dumbly. With no humanity left, it was impossible for them to comprehend this new phenomenon. So, they turned to the only answers they knew. The lies. And they beat at the white and the lighter shades of grey hard. They beat with such fury. They were simply beasts, though their masks looked otherwise, and they fought with such fury, such resolve. It was a beasts survival instincts. Overwhelming, unyielding, unforgiving.

Absolute.

The white was pure, untouched from spilled blood. It was a message of peace for many, and though dark hearts were turned, the Absolute was unwavering. It's peaceful hopes were shattered. And soon, so was it's hold. The grey fell away more and more to black once more, without their support, the white were naked and defenseless.

The deepest instinct is the fear of the unknown. That was what drove the black and the Absolute, the most central fear that we share, beasts and men alike. The fear was something to hold to. The fear was a friend. The fear was fuel. Fuel for a terrible machine. This machine thundered forward and began to consume.

All that remained was grey and black.

But then, a voice said to the lightest grey:

"Lo! I will not see my light fade from the earth again. All you weak of heart, all you grey, purify yourselves once more! Take up these gifts of thunder and lightening, use them to fight for your hearts, and the hearts of those around you! Do not allow yourselves to be consumed by the black once more!"

And two figures, once the lightest gray and now white like snow, came from the midst of the grey. And one held lightening, which they shot with great speed and abundance. The other held thunder in his fists, and he struck them loudly, and the black fell.

Bruiser opened his eyes. For minutes, he simply lay there, lost in his thoughts. He had so much running through his mind at once. If his mind was a river, it was flooding, the dam had broken. He couldn't swim fast enough, and the current carried him off. Where did this vision come from? He thought the most. One part of his mind suggested the copious amounts of moonshine he had consumed last night. Another... Suggested a radical and horrifying possibility: a higher power had just called him to service.

Both theories clawed at him fervently, and he pushed both aside, following the river down another bend. What exactly was he to do? Who were the absolute black? What were the gifts of thunder and lightening? Where would he even start?

Frazzled, he rolled his body over in frustration and discovered he was not alone in his bed. Next to him lay the pretty red head from last night. Another surge overtook him and his mind jumped to many conclusions, but both of them were fully clothed. He found many of his claims unfounded on that fact alone.

And as he looked on her sleeping face, he came to an abrupt realization. She was lightening. He was thunder.

Bruiser sat up and contemplated on this. How could he be so sure? But when he turned his head to look at her again, he knew. The feeling didn't come from and a sexual desire toward her but from an assurance deep in him. She would help him.

Again, the two answers to his first question came to mind and one side gained dramatic weight in the discussion. Once more, he pushed it aside. If he took time to contemplate on it all he would go mad, and he would be no closer to the truth anyway. Frustrated, Bruiser rose from bed, deciding the only answer now was to take his mind off things.

Ahead of him was a long and perilous task. The magnitude of it made him feel sick to his stomach. But whatever the reason, he felt he had to embark on it. And to start, he would need a companion.

The girl who slept at his side would be that companion.