I did see, Tracey! Thanks for the opportunity. I've been pretty busy with all sorts of family, so I'll get to your other email tonight as well.

The pain shot through my chest, a firework of blood and groans erupting from my body.
“This is how it ends?” Says the human.
In a flash of steel, a head flies, decaying before it hits the ground. The sword clatters to the ground and remains as proof of the hero’s failure.
“That makes 30,” he boasts.

Without a second thought, my hand grabbed hers. She returned her smile and calmly turned the other way, her unremarkable clothes left without bullet holes.
We were lowlifes, but not killers.
(3/3)

“How can I help?” She said, radiating ignorance as I pitched an offer: two 10 oz bags for $100.
The others weren’t so subtle. They walked up, hoods on and guns raised, ready to give the lady a chance to be on the news. Clueless as she was, she knew how serious the situation had become.
(2/3)

The streets crawled with lowlifes below the towering skyscrapers every night. People disappeared all the time. One lady, obviously not from around here, walked around like she owned the place, the perfect target to make a quick buck. One tap on the shoulder and she turned around, smiling.
(1/3)

Step five, boil in chemical solution (recipe attached). Step six, shredded material spread out and flattened before drying.
Step seven, shut off the power. Step eight, reflect through the oxygen mask.
(2/2)

Step one, cut off the legs. Step two, cut off the arms. Step three, remove the skin for easier processing. Step four, sever the neck into as many pieces as possible, divided into six-inch lengths. Step four, each piece must be shredded, and all the pieces must be used.
(1/2)

“That’s a question for my brother. I will say, one way is right. If you simply used your eyes you’d see which one plainly on my face.” The sign sounded proud.
On its face, poorly drawn arrows pointed in every direction.
(3/3)

“Wha- beauty sleep? You’re made of metal! Now tell me which way I can go, or you’ll find yourself facing the sky!” The man stood straight like a beanpole; fist pulled back.
(2/3)

“Why aren’t you clear enough?!”
A man kneeled as if in prayer to a sign depicting a fork in the trail.
The sign replied, “No amount of groveling will clarify what my face depicts. Now pick a path, you’ve interrupted my beauty sleep.”
(1/3)

Blinding lights. Deafening sound. Technologically altered senses filtered through a microphone. The stage opened up, a crowd of adoring fans filled my camera/vision. Now a riddle, before the show.
I sing, but have no voice.
I dance, but have no body.
I say thank you with 39.
Who am I?

Piles of defeated soldiers formed a mountain, a display of power to those next in line. No soldier dared hope for release; they knew their destiny. Their master tore the newest page and added it to the causalities.
Despite the lost lives, a grail remained hidden in the graveyard of ink and paper.

Moons. Planets. Stars.
Not done yet!
Solar Systems. Galaxies. The Universe.
Now do you see? All of them are the same size, all neatly captured on the screen. Funny how that is.

Let’s think big.
Cars. Buses. Houses.
No no, bigger.
Bridges, mountains, skyscrapers.
No, even bigger!
Countries. Oceans. Continents.
Is that it? (1/2)