((Organized Chronological Sequence of Events below in 2 Parts))
In the beginning:
Nico was an average kid. Really, there wasn't anything that made him stand out from anyone else his age. Growing up in Houston, TX young men were expected to do certain things. The first of these was play football. He was athletic and he did play, he just wasn’t anything special. Matter of fact he really wasn't all that good. He was bright and made decent enough grades without having to work too hard. He kept to himself and didn't have a large group of friends. He was raised in a modest home on Shadow Garden Lane. Opal Lake was literally in his back yard and he knew the water well. He swam as if he was born to water. Nico never showed off or exposed his talents. He was content to just bide his time and ride out in mediocrity. He was just average all the way around, at least as far as anyone else was concerned. Nico graduated high school in '95 and tried to attend college, but it wasn't for him. The monotony of class after class and the pretentiousness of everyone who seemingly had things all figured out; he couldn't take it. Nico has a few credits to his record but he quickly dropped the student gig and started looking for work.
Nico still lived at home with his father, William "Willy" Somerville. Angie Somerville, his mother, died shortly after being diagnosed with breast cancer when Nico was 12. Willy had been a long-haul trucker for as long as Nico could remember. As a matter of fact, Willy was on the road when Angie passed. Many young teens would have fallen into the depressive angst and pushed blame on their remaining parent, but Nico understood, and he knew that his father loved his mother very much. It was just bad timing. Willy continued to drive cross country hauls throughout Nico's adolescence and young adulthood. The father-son relationship wasn't close, but blood is thicker than water, right?
When Nico stopped attending classes, he didn't have many options as far as work goes. He fixed up an old rat bike his dad kept in storage and fell in love with motorcycles and took a job working in a repair shop. It wasn't until his dad got sick ended up spending a few weeks in the hospital that Nico felt he had to "do something." Cranking on bikes and turning wrenches paid some bills but it wouldn't stave off the future. Willy made good money but it seemed like Angie's lingering medical expenses were draining everything that he had worked for. The books weren't adding up. Nico couldn't help but think that there was something more that Willy wasn't telling him. No matter, Nico needed to make something of himself, be something more, have a career.
There was a military recruiting office in town. Nico had never really put any thought into joining the military. He wasn’t even sure he knew how to accelerate his life, or be all he could be, or if he could make it as one of the few and the proud. There was really only one way to find out and nothing motivates like necessity. The smartest place to get a good paying job and some medical benefits was the service. It was a good choice and it was what was best way Nico could help his father.
Again, Nico wasn't anything special. He was an average 23-year old guy who was driven to a cause out of necessity. That actually was part of the appeal the recruiter saw while Nico awaited his ship out date in the U.S. Navy Delayed Entry Program (DEP). Three months into DEP he finally headed to Great Lakes, IL for boot camp. He did very well while at "Great Mistakes," as it was so lovingly called by the Sailors that attended. He volunteered to try out for the Special Warfare Combat Craft Crewman (SWCC) tests, and he did very well. Dive-motivation and other evolutions came pretty easy to Nico, he just did what he was told to do. However, upon graduation he didn't go to the follow-on training for SWCC. He was sent to Fort Bragg, North Carolina and put through a pilot program for members of the Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). His training was extensive and unrelenting but more focused on intelligence gathering than the actual physicality. That didn't discount the rigorous nature of what was expected of his body though.
It wasn't long before Nico, Gunner's Mate 3rd Class (GM3) was on his way to his first deployment. A quick trip to Fallujah Iraq to kick in some doors to collect intel with basic search and seizure. Nico worked closely with a young Army Private First Class (PFC) Matt Manson. Matt was a great guy but a handful for any squad leader to wrangle-in. He consistently crossed the line or stepped over the line and got himself in some hot water. The entertainment value was well worth it, even in Private Manson's eyes. Eventually that caught up to him. PFC Manson was refused reenlistment and returned back to the world. The team missed his antics, not so much the group punishment that came along with it, but the laughs came with a cost. GM3 Somerville received a combat field promotion to GM2 before returning to Fort Bragg, thirteen different missions under his belt. He continued to deploy like this for the next few years. Six months here, six months there. It was just an endless cycle of "where to?" and "who was the next target?"
In 2005 Nico was now a First Class Petty Officer and shipping out to Logistics Support Area (LSA) Anaconda in Balad, Iraq. He met up with his task force and operations team and was thrown into the mission-set quickly. Petty Officer Somerville and his team were briefed and set out as the recovery team for Operation Avarice. This was a joint endeavor with the CIA, Army, and Navy to locate and recover a cache or stockpile of weapons of mass destruction (WMD). It was during this mission that Nico would learn what all of his training was leading him to.
There has been a handful of times that triggers needed squeezed and rounds needed to be popped off, but that happens when at war. This mission was different. No one knew they were coming. No one knew they were there. No one was expecting anything, much less a precision team with deep cover CIA operatives, infiltrating a small city, in search of the reported WMDs. Because this mission was "dark," or clandestine, it couldn't be leaked. That was all briefed ahead of time but Nico didn't fully process that until the first body hit the deck.
His team was stacked alongside a building, under the cover of darkness. The moved quietly from alley to alley looking for the where the cache was reported to be hidden. That's when it happened. A young boy turned the corner and was immediately frozen with fear seeing the team and their gun barrels all pointed at him. Two silenced rounds rang out and the boy's lifeless form fell to the sandy earth. His mother exited from a doorway and inhaled in preparation to scream in horror, the breath never returned, no sound left her lips. These were not the only "innocents" that fell to the success of this mission. There were too many to count and while one innocent should be too many, there is no amount of penance one could do to make up for these atrocities.
At the end of the day, or night as it were, the mission was a success. Well, from a grand perspective. During the EXFIL Casey, another team member and close friend to Nico, stepped on a landmine which was wired to an adjacent improvised explosive device (IED). Nico was just a few feet behind him when the earth erupted.
That is when the lights went out.
It had been roughly four months since Nico arrived at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, MD. He was just waking up from a medically induced coma the doctors used to allow his body to heal without the discomforts of pain and reduce the swelling around his brain. Willy was at bedside as Nico opened his eyes. They shared an embrace and Willy even leaked a tear or two knowing that his son hadn't left just yet. That's when Willy grabbed the chart hanging from the foot of the bed. Clipped to the back of the chart was a blue folder, the kind with gold inlays and a spongey outer plastic cover. It was an award and citation. Nico was given a second combat field promotion, this time to Chief Petty Officer (CPO) for his actions taken in that fateful day. It was due to his quick response that two other teammates were uninjured. Casey didn't survive the blast. Both Casey and Nico received Purple Hearts and Bronze Stars with the "V" device for valor for their contributions to God and country. Casey's awards were posthumously awarded and since he didn't have a next of kin, Nico was given Casey's affects. Discharge papers were already signed as well. Nico was a free man. Well, almost, he still had some reserve time he needed to complete. Mostly to wrap up some debriefings and ensure he received the proper exit screenings.
Psychologically, the wounds of war were far greater than the physical, but Nico's body wasn't unscathed either. The IED riddled his body with shrapnel all along his right side, from the knee up. Nico lost his two lower-right ribs, a plate and four screws were grafted into the radius in his right forearm, and along with many stitches and burn scars, he lost his right eye. Nico doesn't remember what took place before the explosion. He doesn't remember his mother, at all, and most of his childhood is a guessing game, at best, for memory versus imagination. He never forgot his father; Willy was the anchor for which his sanity clung. Casey was just a name on the paper within those blue folders. Even though Nico knew Casey was someone he was close to, he couldn't remember anything else about the man. The doctors told Nico that he had "walking retrograde amnesia." Memories may return but the important thing is he knows who was Nico could retain new information and had the ability to make future memories. It wasn't ideal but it could have been much worse. Nico continues to suffer night terrors and some standard post-traumatic stress (PTS) symptoms, but nothing too severe.
The day had come when Nico would be released from Bethesda and transferred closer to home. That word (home) meant something different now, Nico didn't remember his childhood home. He didn't remember Shadow Garden Lane or Opal Lake. He wasn't prepared for this, for not knowing. Nico transferred to Brooke Army Medical Center (BAMC) at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, TX. He would only need to stay a few months as part of the transition program, then he would be fully released to return to Houston with his father.
It was as they were checking out of BAMC that Willy broke the news. Willy had been staying in a hotel to be closer with Nico. Well, that's what he told Nico anyway. The home on Shadow Garden was seized as part of an investigation that Willy was involved in. Willy had actually done some jail time and been living amongst some "friends" while Nico had been overseas. Now it seemed that they really didn't have anywhere to go. Well, actually they didn't have anything tying them to the history that Nico no longer knew. Willy still had his old beat up square body Chevy truck and the old rat bike somehow survived as well. Both were rusted and not worth their weight, but when it's what you got, it's what you got. They loaded up their things, tied the bike in the bed of the truck, and the two men decided to head east. They still had a lot to catch up on, Willy still had some secrets that were eating away at his conscience.
(A missing time period was omitted intentionally from the records of history. Nico is plagued by the happenings within this missing frame.)
Arrived in Rhy'Din and entered into the Red Dragon Inn:
::The door swung open and the rhythmic repeating thud of footsteps on the floor announced the entrance. A chain could also be heard clinking ever so softly against the worn denim adorning his legs. Faded black leather draped over his frame in the form of a jacket but wrapped over-top with a leather vest with patches denoting a club of some kind. The man had aged and weathered features and while in his youth the hair atop his head was healthy and jet black, now days the salt was threatening to overtake the pepper. His right eye was hidden behind an onyx patch. He pressed forward with a confident stride, making his way to the bar. He found a spot as good as any and planted himself for what he hoped would become a comfortable home away-from-home, at least for the present. He was content to drink in the sights through that one pale blue orb sunken into the front of his skull. He wondered what would become of his time in this new place. He thought it just might be worth the price hanging around to find out.::
Just like that he was within the walls of the Red Dragon Inn. It was quiet and even with very little patronage, it was accommodating. Nico had only just arrived and if his eye was not deceiving he would enjoy his time here. There was only one problem. Where was here? He read the sign outside and knew the establishment he had entered was the Red Dragon Inn. He know little more. As a matter of fact, he wasn't even sure where he had just come from. It was said by the writer B. Baggins, "I felt thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." Nico felt the sentiment. Keeping up one's strength to endure a prolonged mental assault insisted preparation. The type of preparation taken over months of rigorous training. Prepping for a marathon for example. It would not be prudent for one to just fall into the ranks and set forth at the sound of the shot without first putting on the athletic apparel and building up one's endurance. Nico felt ill prepared for the longevity of his mental marathon.
He must have dreamed a million dreams...
"A land of confusion" plagued his reality without the rhyme or reason one's sheer sanity desired.
...Been haunted by a million screams
But I can hear the marching feet
They're moving into the street
Now, did you read the news today?
They say the danger has gone away
But I can see the fire's still alight
They're burning into the night
There's too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And there's not much love to go around
Can't you see this is the land of confusion?
This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we're given
Use them and let's start trying
To make it a place worth living in
The lyrics could not have spoken his thoughts in more-perfect fashion. He was haunted. Yet, the screams were his own? Weren't they? He couldn't make sense... He watched from within himself as he body twisted and contorted. Limbs grasping and grabbing at his clothing, hair, even his flesh. He pulled and tore at himself while breaking into a hellish roar. Of course, these actions were just mental projections of his plight and how he would deal with his "condition." His focus snapped to the present and the out-of-body happenings within the inns enclosed retreat.
A woman with curly reddish-brown hair welcomed Nico as he made his way to the bar. She made an offer of a warm cup of coffee. Maybe the shock of the warm liquid and the shot of caffeine would soothe the beast roaring within. At least it was worth the attempt. He accepted her offer and welcomed her presentation of the mug, as it was placed before him on the bar. She introduced herself as Reggie (Regina Wellston). Nico was unaware of his lack at a response. He never gave her his name. In fact after a few moments, he was only just becoming aware of anything more than the hell he was experiencing within. As his senses waxed and waned he was able to make out two others in this - world of the living. There was light conversation between the comfortable looking group of three that accompanied him presently within the inn. He did not catch names as he tried so desperately to focus on the world around him.
A small thin framed body walked in with a confidence of youth. The type that not only didn't care who was watching, but maybe even received some-sort-of pleasure knowing that others were doing just that. The hair set atop the peak of someone so small made up for the lacking physical presence with a bright-red almost ethereal-fire. The color was so contrasting to the world surrounding. Nico did find pleasure in the "Tupac" shirt he wore. Something of familiarity, which was also in deep contrast to every other thought, feeling, and emotion Nico had flowing through his present experience. Mo (Morgan LaFey) as he would eventually call himself, may have become somewhat "interested" in Nico, though the tortured cyclops was ever unaware. When another stumbled to find a light it was only natural for Nico to react with a quick-draw and a spark of his own lighter. The occasion was no stranger to his bodies muscle-memory. Nico just couldn't make sense of why his brain wouldn't react in kind. The Lighting the fiery topped Korean's cigarette may have exacerbated the unintended shift in breeze. Naivety worked either for or against Nico with Mo, it would depend on your perspective. Lighting the cigarette, which could have been accomplished in even fashion by placing the tinder-stick close to the bright atop his head, was repaid with an offer of a fresh plum. Nico declined the fruit and returned unto himself to again partake of the bitter coffee and the acidic assault within the core his being. Personal demons most often were described as vices and the reason for them. Nico's demons were just demons.
What was this place? The question returned. Of course one was replaced with two, and then three, and four. The never-ending unknowns flooded the man who was so close to a moment of peace. Why should he not have peace? Another question...
Words flew atop the breeze as if they had wings. The draft was mild if only vaguely evident, but the words found his ears. "Chimera" and "Roomba" rapped against the drum of his ear and their cautionary tone was received in some measure as well. Nico could not make heads or tails of what these words meant. More mystery for this tormented soul. He had only the option to navigate the treacherous terrain of a haystack of mountainous proportion, in search of the needle-sized answers he could only hope to find. Hope; it was almost funny to rely on something that seemed so trivial. What was hope but a far off dream.
The burning match that Nico had only casually interacted with moments ago, seemed to have a visitor. Another man stepped inside and almost immediately gravitated to the little red-head as he clutched and fed on the, perfectly just-past ripened, Rhy'Dinian plum. They were playful and obviously knew each other quite well. Nico was reminded how little he know of himself much less anyone else. The rogue-wave of surprising demise crashed over him. He rolled within the depths of the tide, tossed end over end, scraped over rocks, all without a single chance to catch a breath. How did he get here? He walked through the door easy enough, but where was he before that. He had no recollection of the road that led him hear. No memory of what could only be moments prior. The war raged on. The two men joked over what cause one, if not both, to blush and laugh off.
A dog entered, at the leg of what one could only assume was his master. People had such a fascination with animals, dogs probably more so than any other. Possibly rivaled by cats. The debate would never truly be settled. Nico was actually interested in the rusty beast. Something just short of a desire seemed to pull at his heart-strings. He "loved" dogs. How could he know this about himself but he was locked out of the rest of his internal directories.
The red head made for the exit while the friendly cohort lingered - if only slightly behind. Nico would never have the words to describe what caused him to take notice but he watched as the man hung back. Nica watched as the man's eyes followed the red head out while his hands did up his jacket. A hat was tipped to one of the original three patrons, upon Nico's arrival, and the man with the dog. He made his way towards the exit before pausing and casting his eyes towards the young woman that was now approaching Nico.
Nico had risen and was moving towards the hearth. There was something about the flames contained within that allowed a calm within him take root and possibly grow. He reached the fireplace and he truly was lost within a trance-like-state as the fingers of flames licked upward. A gentle voice sprung him from his stupor, his grip which had almost grasped the calm, slipped and lost the opportunity. He almost reacted poorly as maybe a young child as candy was taken from their possession. However, her voice brought about a different reaction, he eyes solicited a feeling Nico had not known; whether in this life or the one he no longer remembered. They exchanged greeting, she seemed a bit hesitant and he was only partially there. The full extent of who he truly was may not ever be wholly present. He did however make the effort despite the plague he suffered.
Nico and Sylista would carry on a back and forth for some time pressing on from mid-morning and into the evening. Learning about who the other was and their history up to present. Well, as much as they were willing to share with each other, and in his case as much as he even knew. She was probably left with a desert like thirst that his spring could not quench. In summary, Sylista and Nico each had an interest in the other that took some time to explore. They spoke, some might say flirted, for hours. In the midst of these pleasantries Nico started to receive convulsion inducing memory flashbacks. There wasn't warning or cause to the bombs that exploded violently within his minds-eye. He couldn't decipher the images he was witnessing. Were these premonitions of another life? Were they scenes of his past? What was this curse plaguing him? Nothing made any sense. His senses experiencing two worlds simultaneously. Explosions... the earth raining down about his face. He could smell it. Burning flesh, disturbed earth, the sulfuric tang of black-powder. His vision was blurred and unclear. A ringing filled his ears as pangs cursed his sense of sound. Yet he could see a glimmer wash over her skin. He could hear a windchime gently ringing out in melodic and wonderous tones. It was so calming - it was absolute terror.
The passing of time was the last thing Nico focused on. How long had it been? Another question that currently didn't even warrant an answer. A better question would be how much time had past since... since the explosion... Casey?! What happened to Casey? Oh what was this new level of hell? WHY?! His inner fire burned and each knew question stoked the flame to greater intensity.
Nico couldn't help but notice another entering. His body language and his clothing screamed of the type that started their day by shoving an enormous stick straight up their backside. Not for pleasure, although that may have held its place, but for their own sadistic torment. There was a badge somewhere on his person. That was the first certainty that had been given over to Nico since his "awakening." The man made his way to a table and began rummaging through an envelope, pulling photos and documents from the innards. After what could have been a few moments or maybe a few hours the man left. Nico lost track of the specifics, preoccupied with dancing lights within the panes of deep pools of blue. The Red Dragon didn't scare anyone away from the inn so named here within Rhy'Din; the space within her walls began to grow smaller and smaller as the patrons multiplied.
A Princess entered into the inn. Princess by name or title, he did not know, but she graced the court with her presence. A presence that refused to go unnoticed or ignored. The white sweater dress clung tightly to her body and fell off her shoulders with an elegance that only a select few could ever dream of pulling off. She was soon followed by the good doctor, Dr. Howard Waits. He very-quickly he made his way over to Sylista and Nico. Perhaps his intentions were pure and he did not mean to be intrusive or rude, however his abrupt insertion was exactly that. It was obvious to Nico that he would not be a player in this game of two, at least not if the good doctor had his way. It was amusing that even as her name was spoken, it would take another moment-or-so for Sylista to acknowledge the doctor. It seemed she wasn't even aware of his presence until Nico focused his gaze upon the man.
She offered graceful courtesies and they were met likewise from the doctor. Sylista then introduced the uncomfortable greeting between Nico and the doctor. It was a forced circumstance and probably left either of the opposites with a bad taste in their mouths. The doctor must have a perversion for his craft that he could not deny and he forced a peculiar magical healing upon Nico's hand. Moments before, Nico had unwittingly allowed his cigarette to burn down between his fingers. The tiny ember leaving behind two minor burns among the calloused flesh. The doctor somehow was able to "magically" restore the wounds to their previous vigor with a strange red and green glow. Amusing as it was, the man remained a nuisance - and he was lingering. Sylista took the doctor's phone as he requested her number, she punched the digits into the leash he would use later to pull her close. Nico detested phones. They served but one purpose, to reign in what was thought to be yours, a form of control. The doctor content with his prize, exited to enjoy a meal in solitude. Sylista and Nico would continue what would end up being the delightful-highlight of the pages the evening story.
The playfulness that danced between them through the evening continued. The visions causing Nico's writhing soul to wretch and whither within also continued. He would confide in her. He decided she was capable of holding his trust, if at the very least, in part. He spoke of the amnesia-like symptom he was experiencing. He could not make sense of it all but he gave enough info that she caught gist. Sylista asked him if this was something he wanted help with. As unwanted as the doctors presence had been previously he was talented in the areas of the mind. Nico wasn't comfortable sharing something he wasn't quite sure he should have spoken aloud to her. His low and rasp-riddled voice pushed outward to break the silence, "I don't know Darlin'. It wasn't the easiest of choices to break the news to you, and speaking honestly, you have a gift that could coax the future from the fates." His words seemed to garner a reaction in Sylista, however slight that reaction presented.
It was shortly there-after that the lonesome and otherwise non-descript, man from earlier, returned to the inn. He approached; a bit more politely than the Doctor had just moments before. At least his words were polite. He used "excuse me." Nico was ignored, of course, but one could say that the actions of men when focused on the attention of women would inevitably lead to the exclusion of, what can only be assumed to be, rival males. The animalistic urge to exert one's dominance over the female was well known in the kingdom of the beasts. The dominance amongst the "alpha-males," however natural, was not as well known. At least the particulars of how it was practiced. Nico smiled and allowed the interaction to continue, simply watching for cues to step in. He was still lamenting within. His endless stock of questions-without-answer splitting and multiplying. The fire inside burned as phosphorus, self-oxidizing, it powerful white heat loomed just beneath the surface. The man introduced himself as an agent of the FBI and he immediately made demands of Sylista. She tried to subdue his advances and without cause the agent even stepped before Nico. The heat of what lay within should have been felt by patrons across the room, it was amazing the man was not burned to the dust from whence he came. It seemed to Nico that things might no longer be within the his ability to control. The agents relentlessness did not subside and the beast within Nico was awake.
In the next moment time both rushed past like a deluge and yet slowed to a single grain of sand falling within the glass. The agent pulled a gun, drastically upping the ante and the stakes he couldn't possibly be aware were on the line. The gun's barrel was pointed into Sylista's gut as he cast his demands at her again. He kept asking about someone named Federov.
That is when Sylista exploded forward and punched the agent, knocking him to the floor. A total surprise to Nico, maybe even to Sylista herself. When she did so his gun went off, the bullet grazing mildly across her calf. Flames climbed and engulfed her hands as she sat atop the agent who was now flat on his back. What was she? He didn't know, of course. She was new to this place just as he was, maybe she was dealing with some of the same symptoms he was. He struggled against the flash of yet another scene within his mind. Nico lost his grip on the reality before him as he was pulled into himself. He began to drink in the deliciousness of what was growing within him. He watched the vision's cursed images flashing past the conscious. Whatever Nico truly was... whatever it was that was building within, was on the verge of showing itself to everyone without. Nico may have actually taken to that with delight, however the fates had something else in mind this night.
The door flung open and a very large wolf sprang in and immediately took to the agent. The particulars of what happened behind the giant fur-covered form of the looming wolf were unclear from Nico's vantage. The agent however was obviously shaken and very obviously sorry that he had returned this evening. The wolf towered over the man who may never know what it was like to stand tall and proud again, even if he survived this night. In a flash the wolf all but devoured the man beneath, at least it seemed so as the shadow of the former engulfed the latter. Somehow the agent was able to escape the clutches of the beast and crawled his cowardly escape out through the back door of the inn. The wolf gave chase as far as the doorway and then casually turned making its way back from where it came. The moment was over in an instant and lasted an eternity simultaneously. The memory of this night was a lasting impression that would loom over some for what could test the length of forever.
Sylista made her way to Nico and after checking on him quickly she excused herself to make a call. Nico was able to contain that which a lesser man may not have had the strength. He feigned a smile and as she turned away he focused his all into squelching the noise within. As he felt the waning release of whatever this unknown condition might have wrought, he was able to catch Sylista's voice. Her tones held a calming spirit within them, the opposite of what it was that burned within him. He heard a single word "Federov." Nico did not know who that was. He didn't really care. He simply took notice as she made her call. As Nico finally began to get some control over himself again he took a knee and lit another smoke. He didn't know how he knew the feeling that rushed through him next, it didn't make any sense. He needed to feed. Whatever it was that was inside him was hungry and he somehow knew exactly what he must do. He wasn't proud of what it was that he knew would be. In actuality he was ashamed. Why was all of this happening. Why was there a ray of sunshine peaking through the shadows? Why was that singular light the only thing he could think of to hold on to for some semblance of normalcy? What in the hell was inside of him? Where was he? The plague of the unknown rushing back in the calm after the storm.
He needed to pull himself together, for just a moment longer. He was rushed but he needed to check on her. She was returning after ending her phone call and he made his way towards her as well. He could smell the gunshot wound on her leg. His tongue flicked across the pointy pearls in his mouth. He checked her over quickly to ensure she was not in any medical danger. The wound was superficial but he would have to move on from any prolonged focus on the intricacies. After ensuring Sylista was in-fact "okay," Nico bade her good evening. He tried to conceal his urge to leave and the business that would follow. He hoped she had not thought ill of his rapid departure. What had become a very long and exhausting day was coming to an end. He hoped that the finish line of his personal marathon was nearing as well. Only time would tell. Nico disappeared into the shadows of the dying light that grasped in futility at his form until there was nothing left.