Caped (Book 1): The Burdens of Fate by Kerron Streater Page A

whole,
I'm still human, I still hurt, feel, love, fear and hope. If someone excels at
a task, he's asked to perform it, not condemned. And if handicapped they are
assisted, not discarded. Such backwards thinking nowadays, I guess there's
always hope for a better tomorrow...
    "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
creeps in this petty pace from day to day until the last syllable of recorded
time." Yeah, "tomorrow," you're only a day away.

 
    Edward Otep -
    From jobless to driven in a week and a half,
who could have thought? One interview after another, hoping and searching,
wondering where exactly I went wrong, and not "should I" but
"could I" have worked harder? No. The answer is, “No.” And a bad
economy has no conscious, but perhaps fate does. Rent late, bills past due, and
nobody left to borrow money from. Yeah, it feels good to not be in that place
anymore, and I'll fight heaven itself before I'm there again.
    So here I am, standing at the forefront of a
future it seems only I can see the inconceivably, mind-boggling, physics-
breaking reality of. I want to tell the world and to let them know we're not to
be feared, that now is a time for unity. Unfortunately that is a lesson mankind
will learn slowly through many trials and even more errors.
    So the sun sets on the third day of nationwide
protests, with attendance on a steady incline. Counter protesters, which have
been present since the beginning, have also occupied their own areas from which
to voice their concerns, mostly referencing established civil rights laws. But
are their fears well founded? Possibly.
    Recent crime statistics gathered since the
prison breaks earlier this week are surely on their side, but are these
abilities really making us more violent? Doubt it; people are just more willing
to act on these already present tendencies. But it does make me wonder how law
enforcement can expect to prosecute offenders when there may be no physical
evidence.
    It'd be wise for our congressmen to take a slow
and steady approach on delegating new laws. What we're witnessing are the
birth-pangs of a country; no, an entire world, trying to adjust itself to an
unforeseeable situation.
    I've spent the better part of a week making
sure tomorrow goes as smoothly as possible, the only thing I have left to do is
wait. And for a man who can see through it, time is definitely testing my
patience.
    If nothing more at least I've arrived in L.A.,
a monumental accomplishment after forgetting a bag at home, almost missing my
flight thanks to confusion with someone on the do-not-fly list, a situation
which made my blood run cold because I thought the black suits were going to
pop out and cart me off, and finally, a highly annoying man by the name of
Herbert White who insisted on telling me, in detail, about his stay in a mental
institution. A place I'm not entirely sure he should have been released from.
    My nerves are shot and the anxiety alone
assures insomnia will get the best of me. I could have even sworn I felt the
room move earlier, trippy shit. I definitely need to relax.
    It's not carelessness that has kept me from
contacting everyone, still essentially strangers, to confirm their arrival. No,
it's exactly the opposite. I've made sure that what little contact was made was
used to its maximum potential, and at some point I've got to start trusting in
my ability.
    As sure as I watched Laurie Stahl fall to his
"death," they'll arrive tomorrow. It's the same reason I haven't
alerted any authorities. No matter how decent their intentions would be, their
involvement would only serve as a catalyst for more bloodshed, something I'm in
the business of preventing, not producing. That's not to say their won't be
any, but I've dotted my I's and crossed my T's, as best I can anyway. I'll let
God settle the rest.
    Still, this could very well be my last entry,
if so, let it serve as documentation that a least one man cared enough to try.
And if this is to be my final hours, I can't let