had james been a lesser man, the cool, calm hiss would have seeped beneath tingling flesh, piercing his ever impressionable soul. ( but he’s seen & heard enough falsehoods to last a lifetime ) has fallen so far from grace as to be willing to tear apart the one thing he’s claimed to stand for. i think that question should be pointed inward. take a look in the mirror. ❞ holding his rifle steady, he questions how someone [ a M A N] { the rights of humanity are nonexistent in the hands of mr. illusive } ❝ that’s rich — especially comin’ from you. [see what you’ve become]
Lieutenant James Vega had a stained glass soul. A menagerie of vibrant colors. Anyone could see it.
{ How many stones to break his heart of glass? }
Military grunts are all the same. This, he knows. Men are beasts, succumbing to their passions with a red veil over their eyes. Once, Jack Harper had been that naïve. Gone are the days he fell victim to anger. He’s made too many sacrifices. Now, he pays the price.
Ever the observer, he watches. There’s something unnerving about his stare { beyond the glacial cybernetics} – it’s the look of a kid holding a magnifying glass above an anthill. Watching, waiting. For that eminent destruction.
❝Getting philosophical, are we? You’re full of surprises, Lieutenant.❞
He chuckles, the laugh belonging to a man that’s too far gone. It’s a game of cat & mouse. This time, there will be only ONE survivor.
{ ‘Who?’ He asks himself daily. }
❝What I see in the mirror is the same as you. Failure, success, progress. Or do you see the blood that will never wash away?❞
