The stroke of time is nothing but an illusion. The rift that moved so fluidly, came to an abrupt stop as the heavy doors were pushed aside, striding inside with all their human dignity with weapons at the ready. It was a trifle quandary nonetheless. Let them come closer, into this maze of delicate faces. The very eyes they saw last, printed in black-and-white, hung on posts and bulletin boards…how beautiful they turned out to be. Forever, they are mine.

They stepped closer, examining with disgust the beauty that surrounded them. How could they not see it? Did they not live in a world of separation too? They cannot see it. Why can’t they see it?

What was the worth of this all? My treasures… Crash! What are you doing? Clang! How could you defile the faces you were looking for? They aren’t replicas. I would never use replicas…

Finally, a shriek. A woman in uniform. I recognized the same features, the same look of horror that delighted me so. It was the only emotion worth getting from them—everything else is nothing but salt to the wound.

I want to see more.

She screamed again running to the others, shouting of the presence she saw. I smiled. I want to see more. This body had never made a sound but this world had…limitations I had to abide by. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t use the gifts He bestowed upon me, like this wretched name.

The minds of the guards were easy access. They were simple and worn. I told them to close the doors as fast as the could, locking them afterward—I smiled…I gave them one more task to accomplish. The three humans had flown into a panic. Too far to reach the guards, banging their fists helplessly and cursing wildly.

Bang! There’s one. Bang! There’s the last. Too easy.

And the warehouse lights shut off, as the humans explained it, a blackout. Their fear was evident and that look of horror…

I can already imagine.