1.1: The Birth Of A King (Chapter One)
“Morris….”
“MORRIS!!”
“Urgh…. Wha?... Huh?!”
“You fell asleep again Morris, what sort of an example are you setting to your staff if you just doze off at your desk, you’re lucky no customers asked to see you!”
The door slammed shut as Mr.Bigsley, the manager of Newcastle Bank who’s ego was only outweighed by his rotund frame, shuffled his way down the hall from his new deputy manager’s office.
“…Another day of drudgery” sighed the defeated young man from behind his desk, letting out a stifled yawn as he carefully adjusted his name-plate; Michael Morris; Deputy Branch Manager.
He never used to sleep so much, in fact, he was lucky to get his recommended 8-hours a night, but recently something changed, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He had been late 3 times already this week, not a good start to what he thought was going to be a job that would fill him with excitement. Surely meeting all those different people on a daily basis, helping them solve financial problems and providing products to meet their needs would be enough to keep him occupied. But yet, he yearned for more, he reached for the unreachable.
Two weeks previously, his psychiatrist told him he was medically and psychologically unsound – that this overwhelming sense that the world was not right, that people were not as they seemed was simply morbid paranoia, and that his references to his muscles feeling as though they would explode at a moments noticed was nothing but intense hypochondria… however he knew differently… he felt it…. He believed.
Hesitantly rising from his desk, he made the conscious decision to wander on to the branch floor, maybe mingling with the crowd would raise his spirits, and the call to action of being the face of this “esteemed financial institute” would shock him into the land of the awakened.
As soon as he swung the door back, he spotted old Ms.Woodman, a frail but insanely rich old spinster, no doubt coming to make her latest transfer to whichever charity had given out the prettiest ribbons that week. There, as usual, were the “two stooges”, Harold and Jeffery, it suddenly dawned upon him that he hadn’t taken the time to learn their last names – he made a mental note to check with one of the clerks.
Then, he spotted it. It must’ve occurred over the briefest of moments, but it definitely happened, no doubt about it…
A man dressed head to toe in white, hair tied back into a tight ponytail with some sort of contraption fixed around his head appeared to be juggling electricity… did that make sense?! Was that even possible?! The man motioned twice, and a bolt of energy shot down through a second individual, who quickly jumped out of sight…
By the time he scurried past the queue at the checking counter, both men were gone without a… No, it couldn’t be… could it?!
Eyes transfixed on the sky, he swore he saw the man in white appear to be… flying?!
Quickly he ran down the street, eagerly trying to gauge exactly where this man would land, if he would land at all, if it was even the same man, or just a rather large bird.
‘This is insane’ he thought to himself; ‘Doc’ was right, I need to be put in a padded cell!'
Faster and faster he ran, the sun gleaming in his eyes, blurring out what had now became a small white dot….
Onwards, faster and faster… faster…. Faster….
“Oh Sh*t…”
He barely registers as these words leave his mouth, for within an instant, the world turns dark, all he feels is his head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and the warmth of his own blood trickling down his face.
Mere seconds seem to pass… the world is light again, an unfamiliar and hardened voice croaks…
“Welcome back Mr.Morris….”
“MORRIS!!”
“Urgh…. Wha?... Huh?!”
“You fell asleep again Morris, what sort of an example are you setting to your staff if you just doze off at your desk, you’re lucky no customers asked to see you!”
The door slammed shut as Mr.Bigsley, the manager of Newcastle Bank who’s ego was only outweighed by his rotund frame, shuffled his way down the hall from his new deputy manager’s office.
“…Another day of drudgery” sighed the defeated young man from behind his desk, letting out a stifled yawn as he carefully adjusted his name-plate; Michael Morris; Deputy Branch Manager.
He never used to sleep so much, in fact, he was lucky to get his recommended 8-hours a night, but recently something changed, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He had been late 3 times already this week, not a good start to what he thought was going to be a job that would fill him with excitement. Surely meeting all those different people on a daily basis, helping them solve financial problems and providing products to meet their needs would be enough to keep him occupied. But yet, he yearned for more, he reached for the unreachable.
Two weeks previously, his psychiatrist told him he was medically and psychologically unsound – that this overwhelming sense that the world was not right, that people were not as they seemed was simply morbid paranoia, and that his references to his muscles feeling as though they would explode at a moments noticed was nothing but intense hypochondria… however he knew differently… he felt it…. He believed.
Hesitantly rising from his desk, he made the conscious decision to wander on to the branch floor, maybe mingling with the crowd would raise his spirits, and the call to action of being the face of this “esteemed financial institute” would shock him into the land of the awakened.
As soon as he swung the door back, he spotted old Ms.Woodman, a frail but insanely rich old spinster, no doubt coming to make her latest transfer to whichever charity had given out the prettiest ribbons that week. There, as usual, were the “two stooges”, Harold and Jeffery, it suddenly dawned upon him that he hadn’t taken the time to learn their last names – he made a mental note to check with one of the clerks.
Then, he spotted it. It must’ve occurred over the briefest of moments, but it definitely happened, no doubt about it…
A man dressed head to toe in white, hair tied back into a tight ponytail with some sort of contraption fixed around his head appeared to be juggling electricity… did that make sense?! Was that even possible?! The man motioned twice, and a bolt of energy shot down through a second individual, who quickly jumped out of sight…
By the time he scurried past the queue at the checking counter, both men were gone without a… No, it couldn’t be… could it?!
Eyes transfixed on the sky, he swore he saw the man in white appear to be… flying?!
Quickly he ran down the street, eagerly trying to gauge exactly where this man would land, if he would land at all, if it was even the same man, or just a rather large bird.
‘This is insane’ he thought to himself; ‘Doc’ was right, I need to be put in a padded cell!'
Faster and faster he ran, the sun gleaming in his eyes, blurring out what had now became a small white dot….
Onwards, faster and faster… faster…. Faster….
“Oh Sh*t…”
He barely registers as these words leave his mouth, for within an instant, the world turns dark, all he feels is his head hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and the warmth of his own blood trickling down his face.
Mere seconds seem to pass… the world is light again, an unfamiliar and hardened voice croaks…
“Welcome back Mr.Morris….”
