Summary: Blue starts drawing lines in the sand.
NOTE: This is a very rough draft with no editing at all (per National Novel Wiriting Month rules) and is presented for amusement value only. Think of it as a periscope into my writing process rather than a coherent story!
There will most likely be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, contradictions/retcons, uneven characterization and pacing. These snippits are also posted out of order, so please refer to the Outline to figure out where it’s supposed to fit.
Killing Black wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. He’d never killed anyone before, but he’d hunting plenty of time. He’d though it would be different, the death of a man and the death of a deer, but it has the same effect on his anger.
He wants it to go away, the anger, the guilt, the feeling of loss when he thinks of the all the friends that died on Black’s blades and on the blades of his followers. But it doesn’t.
Black’s death is a farce joy, but he knows there are others out there ready to step into the same shoes and fulfill the same crazed mission to bring order to what’s already ordered.
So he asks Atlantis to close the door.
She doesn’t understand at first and it takes a long time of him thinking of what he wants before the city seems to understand.
He waits, patiently, and the line around the door slowly dims from blue to a deep purple that is almost red, but not quite. The world is there and the door will remain, but it’s closed now. Even if they have a key, even if they have someone the city loves as much as Blue– the door will stay closed.
And that helps more than Black’s death, and all he can think of is what a waste of time and lives all of this has been.