KTyouko

Like Wearing a Mask 3 continued. -- (March 2035, seven years before) Patrick Henderson never did have much time to get away from his construction work, or the work of his organization, Third Card. If he couldn’t be found at his home in San Diego, he was usually in Maine, doing his best to keep the plans of Third Card in motion. Of course, he had his agents, and most were as dutiful in the overall progress of the organization as he was. Still, time was usually of the essence, and there was always so little time to be found for oneself. One of his youngest agents, Lynnette, had managed to persuade him (and he used that word lightly) in

Like Wearing a Mask 3 -- The room was peacefully quiet. There was the occasional echo of a whisper from a voice just slightly beyond his earshot and it would sometimes be accompanied by the hesitant footsteps of someone close by. None feared him, to be sure; he had acquainted himself with nearly all of them, in one way or another. They were reluctant to disturb his peace, though, since he so rarely had it whenever he visited one of the bases of their organization. At home he could spend his hours in meditation or simply in the company of whoever had dropped in to visit him. The only ones of regularity were Lynnette, Isaac, or Patrick. This

Like Wearing a Mask 2 -- He was only out of my sight for a few moments! Even as Lynnette tried to console herself from the feeling of parental guilt, she should have known far better. Isaac’s knack for trouble (finding it, rather than being it) was nearly infamous among the members of their organization. She had only sensed a disturbance moments before Isaac’s accident, when his body’s electrical signature had become unfamiliar and then plummeted to near nonexistent levels. Being so attuned to her friend after years of his company, she knew that such an occurrence was not normal. She had bolted out of the office where she, R

Like Wearing a Mask -- The thing terrified most people. Most only glanced at it, the snarling face of a jackal angered beyond the point of conciliation. The gold skin gleamed and would have been a beauty to have and behold, if only the teeth were not bare to the eyes and its skin reared back and wrinkled. He carried it everywhere on his worse days. It sometimes acted more like a shield than a mask. It guarded him from weakness, because it didn’t take long for someone to understand (and suffer) the rage and power that the mask held and offered only to him. Where many would call their companions two-faced, he really was. He was manageab