All was quiet in the cool midnight; not even a breeze swept the lonely streets of the city, corrupted with manufactured perfection. But there he stood, atop a simple home, looking out to the giants that had tainted the souls of so many good men. He was covered from head to toe in shadows; black boots, black pants, and a black trench coat that draped over his lean body; all but the bandanna that covered his mouth; it was yellow with a crude smile painted over it. He pushed his hair backwards, so it wouldn’t hinder his perfectly pale green eyes. Looking toward the moon, the wind slowly picking up as its divine rays shown down upon his pale skin; it may have just been the bandana, but there was something about his expression; he was smiling. He once more returned his attention to the enormous buildings built of sin, and raised his hand, revealing a tiny black box. He flipped it open and rested his thumb upon a small crimson button.

“To the gods that listen to my silent soul, forget me now; I am only a shadow.”
With his words that flowed so flawlessly into the wind, he pressed that crimson button. Turning away from the city as the hellish illuminations of deliverance that lit the skies, he walked away from the burning city as a silhouette.