The wheel turns and the world changes. The world screams in angiush at the darkness falling across it, and there are so few left who can affect the course of things that will come, things that must come. The time is now, and the war flares up again, coming from antiquity and threatening to crush the entirety of human consciousness underneath its armored boots...
"A world that wants peace is a world that is prepared for war." The thought echoed through his head. He stood in the streets of a city, a city he hadn't ever been to, looking up at the clouds. He could see shapes dancing in the clouds, great forms that cast shadows on the ground beneath them, things that can not be, things that should not be...
He sat up from his dream...swaet pouring down his face.
"I hate that dream..." He rolled out of the bed roughly, walking to the bathroom. He turned the faucet, running the cold water. he felt the cold water run across his fingers...letting the calm flow through him.
"Mike?"
The unexpected voice made him jump, smacking his hand against the facuet.
"Peter, you shouldn't scare the hell out of people like that."
"Sorry Mike, i saw the light on and i wasn't sure what was going on."
"It's all right, Pete, just don't do it again."
Funny, Mike hadn't remembered turning on the light...
Later that morning, Peter and Michael sat together eating breakfast at a small park across from Taylor hall, the Building which housed the Science Department of the University of Ravensport, a small University in Massachussets. They both had reasons to be there, though quite different.
Peter was a tall young man with straight black hair and hard, green eyes. He was wearing a black button down shirt with matching slacks and long black gloves. Michael couldn't think of a day when he had seen Pete without his gloves. From what he had been able to gather, Peter had apparently burnt his hands at an early age, and the scar tissue was frightening to look at. No one saw his hands, and he slept with his gloves on.
Michael was different, shorter than Peter, with short cropped blonde hair and plain blue eyes. He was dressed in a white shirt, with the same black pants that Peter wore. They were almost the same size, and took every opportunity to borrow each other's clothing. It wasn't an issue, it was simply something that was.
"So, you still having that same dream?" Peter asked him quietly.
"Yup. I still don't understand it. I'm standing in the midst of this city i've never been to, never even seen. There are these crazy people everywhere, it's a war. I see people hacked to death in front of me, and i have a sword of my own and am fighting. I look around and there are people that i feel that i know, but i haven't ever met them."
"Am I there?" Peter asked quietly, munching on a biscuit with a sausage patty in it.
"I don't think so, but the whole thing is so fucking out of whack i don't even really think i am there. Not until it happens..."
"Until what happens?"
"There i am standing with this girl behind me, protecting her i think, when this monstrosity comes directly at me, swords drawn."
"Monstrosity?"
"It was twelve feet tall with four arms, each one holding a huge sword. They must have been six or seven feet long."
"Jesus, man...you might want to lay off the pizza before bed."
"So it kicks the sword of my hand and bats me out of the way, stabbing the girl through the chest with its sword, throwing her at me. It walks towards the both of us, It's sword drawn, it brings the blade down at me..."
"Dude, you seriously need to consider laying off the pizza before bed time."
"And then the whole world flashes white and i'm sitting in this garden, having tea."
Peter pulled up his tape recorder, the one he took all his notes with. "Note to Self: No More Pizza for Michael after the hours of 8 P.M."
"And that's abotu the point i wake up with a case of the screaming willies."
"Verry Interesting." Peter said quietly, a passable impersonation of sigmund Freud.
"We better get inside, Doc Jones will make my life suck if i'm late to class." Michael said, rising to his feet.
"Concur." Peter nodded, grabbing his bag.
"See you at lunch."
"Later, Mike."