While being dragged out of the office complex, Mark turned around to give Victor one last look. A bloody one. His eyes were throwing a deep loathing look at the person he believed to be his friend.
His only hope to get back into business... was now gone...
Now he was not left with any other job choices. He was only good at his computer stuff. Without a known acquaintance, no other company would give a job to someone nowadays. Such was the tenacity of the modern world.
Men need to struggle so hard here in order to survive that they forget that they are human beings... They forget that inside their chest, there is still a beating heart.... humans have now entirely lost what could be called "humanity".
Mark Eisner's last experience was nothing out of ordinary. Such incidents have happened to a million other men in the past and will happen to billion others in the future.
But still.... society would move on... like nothing even happened. Such incidents were like a smote of dust being wiped off the nose of the cosmos. It bore no significance to the universe. It was just something... which... occurred...
Victor Simkins threw back a deep look of disgust at him. As though he appeared to him like a goddamn pest.
His success had shadowed his judgement so much that it had took all of his emotions away. He seemed no different than a hardened ******* rock.
After seeing that expression of his, Mark stopped resisting. It was futile. The damage to his heart was already done. It doesn't matter what he said to him. Nothing would ever be able to turn him back to the old innocent Victor in whom Mark had complete faith.
________________________________________
Being dropped outside of the Rochet Complex in the abysmal darkness, the stars were Mark's only companions.
His whole figure was already completely wearied due to so much of stress. Stress that normal mortal beings couldn't bear for much long.
But this time, Mark didn't cry. It wasn't that he couldn't. It was because life taught him a very grave lesson. It taught him that being weak was something he cannot afford. He cannot just screw around and plead people for help. He needed to do something. He needed to act. As quick as he can.
Ripping himself out of his despair, Mark somehow managed to limp back to his home. Even though it was a five-kilometer route. It was because something has clicked inside his mind.
Something... which was literally drilling a deep hole in his brain, trying to fill it with just a singular thought. A thought which was repeating itself in his mind over and over again, as if somebody had switched on a tape recorder.
He needed to fight...He needed to fight..... Whatever happens... He will fight.... to the end... He has to fight....
Such was his determination that he even forgot the hellish pain in his limbs and backbone.
Snapping open the lock to his apartment, Mark crept inside the lonely settlement. Minutes later, he was in his bed already. Exhaustion was something which couldn't be battles for long with such a metaphorical weapon as "will".
Technically, he was knocked unconscious....
_________________________________________
Mark woke up quite late in the morning. The vintage clock that hung over his living room wall had already struck eleven.
But such measure was now of no conceivable use to him. He was not bounded in a rigid timetable now. He had all his time now. Time to think through his situation. Time to devise out a plan.
Making himself a cup of cappuccino, he made himself comfortable at his desk.
Switching on the lamplight and putting on his glasses, he started rummaging all of the drawers which were visible in sight.
Shuffling through all the documents which were lying neatly in their respective places, he pulled chunks of the documents out of them and started to skim through them.
Each page turned bought either a slight frown or pang of annoyance on his face. Nothing seemed to conclude his strange behavior. Each passing second was adding more and more lines on to his sweaty and strained face. He didn't seem to find anything. No one he could work for.
Admitting defeat, he flung off all the documents from his desk, littering them all around his already messed up study.
"Goddammit! How am I supposed to earn anything if I am not going to get a ****** job!"
Wiping his eyes with his hands, a futile attempt to wipe off all his weariness, he got up from his desk, pushing his chair so hard that it slammed against the wall of the tiny room.
Getting out of the room, he flung himself again onto his sofa. Feeling sheepish, he realized he was back on square one. He hadn't even ascended a single step.
Letting out a deep sigh, he hung his head.
For minutes, he just stared at the carpeted floor of his living room, doing nothing.
After realizing nothing was gonna happen doing that, he flung his face upwards...
But.. While doing so, his eyes fell upon something very unexpected. Looking at it, his eyes seemed to widen a bit, his mouth curving into a very elegant smile.
"That's it!", Mark Eisner exclaimed at the top of his voice. As no one else resided on the same floor as his, he never had to be worried about any "neighbor annoying stuff".
Right on the shelf was resting a very old dusty diary, bound in stiff leather. Behind it was a very old black-and-white picture of a gorgeous lady holding a little infant in her arms. Her smile seemed otherworldly and ethereal to Mark.
It was something he couldn't achieve again.
"I'm sorry mom.... I couldn't do shit... I am just a failure for a son....", thought Mark, his gaze wandering to the old photo of his late mother, who died of pneumonia five years ago.
The trauma was so great that he refused to talk to a single human being for a whole month.
But still, life moved on, and here he was, sitting like a damned tart, doing nothing.
Somehow focusing his attention back to the diary on the shelf, his mind struck with an idea. Something which he had longed to do for years, but couldn't, due to his never-ending business at the company.
But now.... he had the chance to do it.... the chance to write a book.
In an instant, he darted from the sofa and appeared next to the shelf the following moment. Snatching the diary, he was engulfed with a cloud of sand; apparently the result of his hastiness.
After a long minute of violent coughing, he retreated back into his study with the diary.
Dragging his chair back to its initial position, he dumped himself into it, placing the diary very carefully on the desk. Blowing away all the dirt that had accumulated on it over years, he revealed a faint indent on the leather cover.
it read, "Records of the adventurer: Memoirs of Remirg Kryptos"
Reading the title brought back his childhood memories. Remirg Kryptos was one of the fictional characters which he had devised on his own.
When he was five years old, his mother had revealed to him a recording of him babbling as a baby. Listening to the vague words of himself, he somehow figured out that unusual name.
Since then, he always introduced himself to anyone as "Remirg Kryptos", the delusional character of his creation who was always his role model. To him, Kryptos was a perfect creature he couldn't even compare himself to. Containing all the qualities he himself lacked.
The diary which he was holding was the last souvenir from his dead mother. It was a birthday present to him the year before she died.
Her death was so traumatizing, he dared not touch it, forget opening it.
But now... was the ripe time to open it... It was time to bring Remirg Kryptos back to life. To show his actual powers to the world.
Opening the diary, Mark picked up a pen. Feeling all the antique yellow pages once, he put his pen down on the first page.
With a very graceful smile on his face....
He started to write...
The one story close to his heart.
But is this the end of Mark's fateful destiny? Does Mark really attain peace of mind? Will his story really sell? Would people love his novel and appreciate?
The answers to such questions cannot be given at the end.
It is just the start.
The start of a great adventure. An adventure spanning billions of galaxies and countless multiverses.
But it was at this moment, right here at this place, where everything started.
It was the start of countless possibilities...