What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state.

The sun beats down on me cripplingly as I sit on a park bench, watching children frolicking in the playground. Gusts of wind ruffle the pages of my book as I infrequently attempt to scribble down thoughts. Loose strands of my hair tease my face, lucky strands glistening a bright orange in the light of the overbearing rays.

I glance up from the ink-stained pages. Squalls die down, sending brightly-colored tresses to rest on the juxtaposing obsidian of my coat. Skies darken; children and their mirthful cries fade away. My hands freeze, flattening on the now weighty tome that sits on my lap. My pupils struggle to adjust to the sudden, silent darkness.

A sound is the first beacon to alert my senses, drawing my attention to the street side in the distance. My eyes narrow as I attempt to determine the source of the reverberations that I have now recognized as heavy footsteps. From the shadows, a shady figure gradually becomes distinguishable, steadily lumbering toward me.

My breathing turns shallow, and each inhalation threatens to catch in my throat. I choke each gulp of air down, and force it out again, remaining as motionless as possible. My eyes vigilantly follow the silhouette, unremittingly reanalyzing the approaching figure, scrutinizing the nebulous shadows for any newly visible characteristics.

As he draws near, his features come slowly into view. He is a tall man, weighing around one-hundred ninety kilograms. Long curly locks fall to his shoulders, and his face regards me sternly. He stops almost a meter’s distance from me.

“I know who you are, Erisenyo,” he booms, though his volume does not subvert the cool composure of his tone. “You have trespassed willfully and mendaciously into my realm, and your presence has not gone without my notice. Concede and gracefully accept the punishment I will exact.”