The things you see
They can make you bare the questions of curiosity
They can swallow the purpose of fantasy
And overtake your consciousness of thoughts
Thoughts that can escape to a new world
Or become the start of something new
Or maybe even weave themselves together as
one night and one day...
Life is a plain reality that is to force you to be alert and at one with yourself...
Life is a gift to be able to comprehend or to even make
with your own gentle hands, maybe to even just have the thought of being apart of it...
The Illusion of life is like a sadistic dream that showers constant realities of desires...

Bustling cars flashed under building lights and signboards, screeching under stoplights and signs. Tall skyscrapers stretched up high, blinking with reflecting windows and billboards. People roamed about, jogging across sidewalks and streets, shouting greetings or language at others. Cars honked, sirens wailed, and here or there animals barked or squealed. Gangs hid in the shadows of alleyways, waiting for a victim. Men and women bustled out of restaurants, talking and laughing, oblivious to the man in a sleek, black limousine. Some stopped and stared at the vehicle, admiring the car brand and chattering among themselves. Others merely shrugged and went on with their business, ignoring and soon forgetting about the car.

The man inside smiled at the people's ignorance. A tall figure with chiseled, sharp features, he lazily leaned back, observing his partner behind sunglasses. Both were dressed in classic black suits and ties, polished shoes and pressed pants. The man in sunglasses also wore a long, black designer coat, made more for show than to keep the wearer actually warm. A silver and gold watch flashed the time on his wrist, again, more for show than use. Black hair was slicked back, peppered heavily with silver. A neatly trimmed beard shadowed his face, more black than grey. He smiled, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth.

"Have we come to an agreement then, Mr. Rachelle?" He asked, crossing his legs and settling back, dark eyes wary behind his sunglasses.

Mr. Rachelle swallowed, regretting coming into this business. He nodded, shakily. "Yes, we have." He whispered, staring down at his clasped hands.

The man smiled wider. "Come now, Rachelle, no need to be so sober. This is a cause for celebration. You have just successfully bought my products."

"Illegally," He muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

The man frowned, shifting forwards. "I do not like how you use that word, Mr. Rachelle. I prefer...unauthorized weapons done for the greater good." He sat back, studying the nervous man. "You will not go back, I understand?" It was more of a threat than a promise.

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." The car slid to a stop beside an old house in a broken neighborhood. One streetlight shone above them, illuminating the cracked sidewalk and dead grass. Garbage littered the street, crunching under tires. A few stray animals yapped and whined, yellow eyes reflecting in the light. "You are no longer needed."

The door opened for Mr. Rachelle, a male bodyguard in a black suit and sunglasses extending his arm in a gesture leading away from the car. Mr. Rachelle took a deep breath and stepped out of the rich vehicle. "Good night," He shakily said to the two men. The second he had exited the car, the guard outside slid inside, taking his spot and shutting the door. Mr. Rachelle glanced back his dealer one last time before moving away into the house.

"Samuel." The man spoke in a dull voice. "Make sure he doesn't leave the house."

The bodyguard smiled, cracking his knuckles and exiting the car once more. "Yes, Mr. Daniels."

When he came back, he was still smiling, knuckles bruised and bloodied.

Mr. Jackson Daniels,billionaire CEO director of a charity corporation called Philanthropy. His business stretched all across the country, spreading love and money to people in need. People knew that Mr. Daniels was a true and honest man, giving more then he received. They all donated to him gladly, the man in return setting up fundraisers for schools and supplies to foreign countries. And Mr. Daniels being ever so modest never gave away the locations, saying he wanted it to be kept secret.

His companion was a thick, muscular brute, one scar clamping his left eye shut. Short, black hair was neatly combed and framed his squarish face quite nicely. His suit fit perfectly, black tie gleaming against the white of his shirt.

Jackson Daniels rested in his expensive leather seats, legs crossed comfortably while staring at his man on the opposite side as they drove through the flashing, screaming city. The inside of the car was a rich, dark brown leather, complete with gold ornaments and a small vase of small, purple Ombre Hibiscus flowers in a cup holder. Daniels was stroking the pedals, pinching them and squeezing out the fluid.

"There will be nobody there, will there?" He asked, taking one of the blossoms from the water and tucking it into his lapel.

"No, sir."

"Officials?"

"Informed. He was murdered by an angry gang boy."

Daniels nodded. "Good work. I have a meeting later tonight, you will let no one through." He leaned back. "One man, in particular, is interested in the latest invention our scientists are working on. It will harness the powers of any super it is pointed at, imitating it for a time being. We are still perfecting it, but," he gave a short laugh. "They are already lining up. Supers are becoming a bother to them, and they need self-defense for their work. This meeting is essential to our mission. We are not to be disturbed by anything, am I clear?"

Samuel nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Anything else may be vital to your health."

"Yes, sir."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, the car finally rolling to a stop in front of a massive glass building. It stretched up higher above the others, the windows reflecting the dancing neon lights and making it flash and shine in a beautiful splendor of color. A blinking sign around the skyscraper read Philanthropy, Helping You Make a Better Tomorrow. A black carpet covered the stairs leading up to the massive, multiple, double-door glass entrance, starting from the sidewalk and flowing inside.

A man hurried over, opening the door and extending his hand in a welcome. "Mr. Daniels."

Jackson nodded in greeting, brushing past him and up the black stairs, walking through the doors someone else inside opened. Samuel followed a few feet behind, glaring at anyone, not in uniform.

Inside was white tile, the black carpet stopping a few feet inside. Glass chandeliers hung from each level, glittering in the lights. A black wood receptionist desk was over in the corner, a check-in for tourists and donors. A large, triangular structure set in the middle of the welcoming area held a map on each side showed off what was on each level of the building, highlighting the shops and giving places. Couches and chairs were seated around the room, available for anyone waiting. Staircases and elevators led up to the different levels, shining in the golden gleams of lights.

A man ran up to them, hastily whispering that a certain Mr. Gvanocci was in the upper room. He then held out a black case, Daniels gently taking it and nodding to the man before moving on. A janitor hastily bowed his head as Daniels moved past him, the old man holding a broom and tidying from a school-trip earlier that day. Jackson ignored him, heading to the elevators set in the far right of the room. Taking out a key card from around his neck, he pushed the fire hazard button twice, then held it down and waited for a small, black screen to pop up. When he scanned the print over the black screen, another layer of level buttons appeared, this one taking him to higher levels. Samuel stepped in, pushing the knob to the highest level.

The machine lifted them in silence, broken only by the soft ding as they hit the floor. The door opened to reveal a long, polished wood hallway lit by glowing lamps and a chandelier. Multiple conference doors were set in the walls, grey and black carpet lined the floor, muffled footsteps.

Samuel stepped out first, gesturing for Daniels to go ahead of him. He then stood by the elevator door, arms crossed as he watched his boss walk down the hallway. Jackson stopped by a door set on the left side of the hallways, unlocking it with another swipe of his card and stepping in, carrying the case.

"Mr. Gvanocci," He smiled. "Very nice to see you."

The room they were in was made for a large conference, holding one long dark oak table and thirty smooth chairs, made of the same wood. Wall lights lit the room with a yellowish glow, reflecting off the dark windows on the far end of the room. Intricate designs were carved into the wooden walls, flowing down and spreading across like frost. A large clock was built into the room, slowly ticking away at the time.

A man stood from a chair, nodding his head in greeting. His features were Italian, sharp and clear. Black hair was slicked back, dark, beady eyes peered out from bushy eyebrows. His upper lip was hidden in a thick, black mustache peppered with brown. A large man of the same country stood behind him, dressed in the same attire as Samuel. Mr. Daniels stepped over, extending his hand. Gvanocci stared at it, raising an eyebrow and sitting back down.

"You are here to see the weapon?" Daniels asked, sitting beside the Italian and placing the black suitcase on the table.

Gvanocci nodded. "I assume you are complete with it?" He questioned in a thick accent.

Daniels nodded. "Yes, we are completing a few more tests, then it will be finished. The machine will harness the power of the specific super, imitating it and possibly draining part of it." He smiled. "Any business you have with supers will be stopped, once you have this."

The Italian tapped his fingers on the table. "Thirty grand is a lot to pay for such a thing."

Daniels nodded, sympathetic. "Yes, but you understand that it takes a lot to create these, and make sure they cannot be copied." His gaze narrowed at Gvanocci. The black eyes stared back, unfazed.

"Deal."

"Do you have the money?"

"Half. The other is elsewhere. I want to see it in action."

"Give me the half, and you shall once we are complete with it."

The Italian scowled, bending down to retrieve a suitcase next to his chair. "Fifteen thousand, here."

Daniels smiled, opening his mouth to speak when the door burst open. Both men jerked up at the unexpected motion, turning to face the door. A woman stood, one hand against the wooden frame, the other holding onto a small, golden-haired child.

The woman had long, black hair, dyed with blue and green. Her eyes were a peculiar shade, the left is bright lime green and the other an electric blue. Thin, red lips were pursed in a scowl as she glared at them. Daniels half rose, angrily glancing at Samuel, who was standing behind them holding his elbow and side.

"Who is this?" He barked, swiftly pushing his chair back and moving across the carpeted floor to the woman. "This is private. How did you get up here."

The woman narrowed her eyes, pulling the child closer to her. "Funny you should ask that, Daniels." She spat out his name like something poisonous. "You divorced me four years ago, and still haven't changed the codes for some stupid reason."

Jackson furrowed his brow. "Elaine?"

"Yes." she snarled.

He sighed, turning to the Italian man waiting on the opposite side of the room. "Excuse me, while I deal with this...problem." He apologized while ushering Elaine and the child out of the room. "Why are you here?" He hissed, shutting the door firmly behind them. "I set you up with enough money to last you a lifetime, and told you not to bother me anymore."

Elaine slapped him. "You did not, bastard," she growled. "What you gave me barely lasted a month. Plus, your child was on the way."

He blinked. "We had a child?"

"Yes, you idiotic whale. We did. I am bringing her here because I can no longer afford to keep her with me." She straightened, staring at the man. "And, because I know of your criminal activities, you will do best to listen to me, or else I go to the authorities." She pushed the small child forwards. "This is Reina Daniels, your daughter."

Jackson looked her up and down. She was pretty, he admitted. He could see the resemblance in her from him, such as the light colored hair. She kept her mother's eyes though, both being mismatched in green and blue. Thin lips, high cheekbones, and she was smart. He could see it in her eyes. She stared back, void from almost all emotion. Almost. Uncertainty was in those deep depths.

He frowned. There was something about her hair, the top right half was darker at the top. It was split perfectly in the middle, the roots on the right being black and the left blonde. Shrugging, he looked back up at the mother. It was probably nothing, just a birthmark that would soon fade, or paint spilled in her hair.

"You want me to care for this child?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your child," she corrected, nodding and flashing a large grin. "Yes, Daniels. Else it's bye-bye to your criminal occupation, and I'll be pranking your cell."

He shuttered, remembering what she did to their room when she was angry at him. "How am I supposed to take care of...our....child?"

She shrugged, stepping back and grinning, black and blue hair flashing in the light. "You had better do it. You don't want any rumors to trickle out, would you?"

"No, we wouldn't."

She stepped over to the elevator, clicking a button. "It's not that hard," she said, turning back. "All you have to do is-" her voice cracked, stopping as she came face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

Daniels smiled at her, cocking the handle. "We don't need loose ends or rumors," he apologized. "You, unfortunately, Elaine, are both."

Elaine's eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent scream. The small girl watched blankly as Daniels pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing down the hallways in a massive boom! She watched her mother fall to the floor in an explosion of blood, watched as Daniels turned away from the body and slowly approach her. She blinked, gazing up at him with her mismatched eyes.

"Well, well, Reina," He crouched down, cocking his gun again and looking her up and down, calculating. Resting his arms on his legs, he smiled at her. "What am I supposed to do with you?"