A beautiful orchestral symphony plays in the background as he sits at the table Vision led him to, he looks at Sheehan and then at everyone around as they race to get to their tasks.
The preparations for another show . . . a moment that feels so surreal that everything has to happen slowly . . . a moment of clarity with no input . . . the intensity of the experiences . . . especially the one where he met him are starting to somewhat settle in.
Thinking through it all, a finish line he chose and desired to oh so dearly reach and placed at the forefront of front of his mind, ignoring the aches of his past self. What will it feel like while the show goes on? And what will it feel like when the curtains close?
Aahh . . . such a blessing . . . to be the only one in this existence to witness and know, the beauty that is death . . . more . . . I want to know more about it! More of it!
The ashes of a past self upon his skin begin to ache more and more.
And so, the music that he enjoys plays louder and louder.
And things begin to move around faster and faster.
The more they ache . . . the louder and faster . . . faster to the finish line . . . before the ashes change the sensation.
He closes his eyes as his head sways around gently.
"A–"
A faint voice echoes through the symphony, calling on his name, and yet, everything grows more intense.
"Aay–"
The voice draws nearer and the things grow more.
"Aayn!"
. . . and then nothing . . .
. . .
He slowly turns his head to the side and opens his eyes, looking at the person calling out his name.
"Aayn . . . yes . . . what is it?" he asks.
Weirded out by him, Vision silently places a bag on the table in front of Aayn.
"Here is your equipment and gear,"
Aayn nods, "Ah, yes. Good,"
. . .
"Hey, I have a question," says Aayn the instant Vision turns around and is about to take his leave.
He thinks of ignoring him and continuing to walk away towards Sheehan, and yet Aayn exudes an . . . audience-like presence around him . . . just enough for Vision to turn around and ask, "What is it?"
"What do you think of Sheehan and Zahtan?" questions Aayn, rummaging through the bag and taking out a mechanical prosthetic arm that is holding a small note.
"Nothing much," responds Vision as Aayn unfolds the small piece of paper and reads it.
"Nothing much?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow.
Vision shrugs.
"Why are you here with them then?" he continues, grabbing the arm and connecting it to his shoulder, it connects automatically, coming online.
"Do I need a reason to be here?"
. . .
Aayn looks at Vision.
"Is every other worker around here this boring?" he ponders as he moves around his mechanical arm, checking out how it compares to his old one.
Vision crosses his arms, "Why are you here then?"
Aayn pauses, looking at Vision and smiling, "I'd rather not put it into words, all I can say about it is that I am finding out why,"
"Why not?"
Aayn rummages through the bag further, "Put it into words?"
He pulls out a new scope and places it on the table, looking at its beauty and touching it gently.
"For a near eternity, all I received were words . . . yet it is only when existence forced change upon me, did I . . . come to be born . . . through true understanding . . . by living it. It is when I . . . tasted . . . flavor . . . did I kill the other me, for the accursed ignorant life he kept calling me for. And now I have come to seek further flavors, to increase my palate . . . and through hurdles such as the ashes of my old self . . . is a goal beyond perfect . . . is what I dream of,"
. . .
Vision doesn't understand what the guy is going on about, but he nods all the same.
"I see, alright," he says, walking away from Aayn, thinking him a lunatic.
Aayn also pulls out a unique coat from the bag and instantly loves the way the material feels on his skin.
"Ahhh, I wonder what kind of a show I am about to witness, what secrets are about to unfold," he says, looking at Vision and passing his tongue through his lips.
. . .
"Hey, you sure this will work? This guy looks like he's bad news,"
"He is, which is why I will keep a close eye on him. Just follow the plan and everything will be fine. Once we have what we need, we will enter the final step of the mission,"
Vision nods, "Where is number 13?"
". . . I don't know. He has not arrived yet. I sent him a message but haven't received a response,"
"What? Is he okay? How will we do this without him? Wouldn't we need him for the final phase?"
"Don't worry about that . . . I have backup plans. But listen," Sheehan says, looking at Vision, "Even though he can take care of himself and I might need you here, if you feel like you can't do this without number 13, then it's better off you go search for him and I take care of this stage alone,"
"We don't have much time, so I need you to decide on what to do soon. I'll leave the choice up to you,"
Vision pauses momentarily, remembering, ". . . I'll stay with you, you're right. H–he can take care of himself very well,"
Sheehan smiles at him, "Alright, go ahead and take your position and stay ready,"
"Right!" responds Vision, filled with inspiration and hope.
Thoughts and sensations of the excitement to finally prove himself to his peers courses through his mind and body.
This is it . . . I won't mess it up!
He stands at his position, slapping himself on the cheeks and shaking out his hands and body, "Alright, shake it off . . . shake it off . . . you got this!"
As he jumps around a little and shakes his hands, his breath begins to show vapor . . . everyone around him also feel the chills as the ground where the portal is, begins to frost over because of what is approaching . . .
. . . an enraged beast with merciless, cold intent to cut through them and make sure they all suffer . . . for what they did to what was his.