[center][color=darkgreen][b][u]January 2nd, 2026; 8:43 AM Downtown; Hub City, Illinois[/u] [i]'The city dresses itself up nicely in an attempt to hide its aging, bloated body writhing in maggots and disease. It doesn't do much.'[/i][/b][/color][/center] Breathe in. Breathe out. The world opens up to him. All of its lies and half-truths are exposed, the never ending ley lines of chi forever moving throughout the universe are visible, and the city... It can speak to him. And when it speaks, he [b][i]Hears[/i][/b]. [color=darkgreen][b]"Speak to me, Hub City. What ails thee, drug-addled whore clinging to schizophrenic dreams?"[/b][/color] the faceless freak asks. [color=yellow][b]"It's bad, man..."[/b][/color] a worried man in a phone booth says. [color=yellow][b]"... it might be cancer..."[/b][/color] a young woman sobs to her lover in a nearby cafe. [color=yellow][b]"... worst case I've seen in a while."[/b][/color] a doctor across town explains to a patient. [color=darkgreen][b]"Where is your pain, doomed crack baby suckling on poison cola death nipple?"[/b][/color] the protector of the weak continues. [color=yellow][b]"This warehouse I just got, for..."[/b][/color] [color=yellow][b]"... some fucked up shit, man..."[/b][/color] [color=yellow][b]"... it's just outside of town, can't miss it."[/b][/color] [color=darkgreen][b]"Your help is appreciated, oh crime-ridden terminal tumor of the world."[/b][/color] With those words the trenchcoated vigilante prepares to head to work, intent on investigating this clue later. The sky above is a pleasant blue color, only just rising into the sky. Clouds float around waiting to dissipate into nothingness, birds chirp a delightful song. Down below the ordinary people make their way to work, buying Venti soy mocha coffees with a light whip. They are unaware of, or perhaps blissfully involved in, the dark underbelly of the city. They are blind and deaf, incapable of understanding much beyond what they're required to. They cannot see that day by day their beloved city is falling apart slowly, painfully. He can [i][b]See[/b][/i]. They cannot hear its pleas for help. He can [i][b]Hear[/b][/i]. They can only walk in the mundane world. [i][b]He can walk between two worlds.[/b][/i] One day there will be an answer as to why the world is in the state it is in. Until then he will fight as hard as he can to help with its symptoms. He does not hope to be able to see the day when it will be cured, because he knows he will not be the one to do it; no, it will be the next generation, and if not the next generation then the one after. He hasn't the might to cure the world. He is not the answer. He is only [color=darkgreen][b]the Question[/b][/color]. [hr][center][color=darkgreen][b][u]9:08 PM; January 2nd, 2026 A warehouse on the outskirts of town; Hub City, Illinois[/u] [i]'I don't want to linger here. It feels wrong.'[/i][/b][/color][/center] The warehouse. It was a shoddy thing. Only microscopic amounts of chi touched this place. It was dead. The city could not help him here. [color=darkgreen][b]"I must apologize, Hub City. Though I am your will and your hands, I must depart from you momentarily. Forgive me."[/b][/color] The chi of the city flowed through him once more, before he could no longer feel his connection to the city proper, just a faint tug telling him that he needs to go back, that it needs him, it [i]wants[/i] him. Flicking up the collar of his trenchcoat, he continued on. His home is the shadows. Within them he feels the comfort of lounging beside a warm fire place, of returning home after a long day to the kind words of loved ones, of Coke in green glass bottles and steaks sizzling on a grill. But he fights off that comfort, for it makes him weak. It makes him feel secure, and feeling secure leads only to death. He must stay on his toes, lest he die. The masked avenger used the shadows to approach the back end of the warehouse, entering unheard and unseen. Ahead of him a single beam of light shone down on a poker table, six men surrounding it like corporate suits discussing their next perversion of the American people's hopes and dreams at a conference table. Disgusting. He looked to his left and found the power box. He killed the lights. The men shouted, argued, before finally agreeing to send what was more than likely the weak link of their little group to check the problem. The walker of worlds waited in the shadows for him to approach. What he found was a man bordering on anorexia, baggy clothes making him look like a small child pretending to be his father. Question crept up on him, applying a chokehold and covering the man's mouth. [color=darkgreen][b]"Alert the others and the only plane you shall walk will be that of the dead."[/b][/color] He uncovered the man's mouth and eased his grip on his throat slightly, to allow him to speak. The man didn't scream. [color=darkgreen][b]"He who guides you, where might he reside?"[/b][/color] The gangbanger whimpered softly, whispering [b]"o-our leader? He's n-not here, he's probably at our HQ in town."[/b] [color=darkgreen][b]"Where does he make his nest of lies and vices?"[/b][/color] [b]"I-in an a-abandoned mall in Chinatown... Please... D-don't hurt me..."[/b] [color=darkgreen][b]"Won't. Will just knock you out."[/b][/color] The Question tightened his grip on the man's throat. He squirmed a bit, before going limp in his arms. [b]"Yo Eric, what's the hold up?"[/b] one of the filthy degenerates called out. Question scrambled away from the unconscious man, heading out the door. He was gone before they could notice him, walking down the road into the den of scum he called home. As he returned to the Hub the chi flowed through him, welcoming him home, congratulating him on a job well done. [color=darkgreen][b]"Do not give your gratitude to me yet, oh wretched hive of whores and booze,"[/b][/color] he stated, [color=darkgreen][b]"for I have yet to end this odyssey into the motherland of the scum."[/b][/color] He continued his hunt, purpose in his step.