Agency Immoral

The right thing happened when the beast took me in. We made a special bond at our first meet. I knew he would be mine and he knew that's what he wanted. I'm only bound to honor...Kenneth, I'll call him. A man of kind stature and honest character. These poor creatures come a dime a dozen, but he is my choice. "Dig", he gruffs. In full force I rammed the shovel at the dirt. Hoping to find something...anything. "This is the perfect spot. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" I grimaced. The grief within me followed a poor romance of fleet and retreat. I used to love this place. The careful gestures and sultry embrace of the town gave me a love I'd hope to cure. "Here!" I yelled loud enough for the dogs yelp. It finally dawned upon me the night I fused humble with hope. This is not a feeling. No judgement or depth. Moreso, promise or vanity would keep us. The relay of my mind haunts what is left of charm. It is gone. Guiding myself to the ditch I focused as my heart deserted joy. Duty now rests on the guise of fluid labor. Here, I am thankful for the opportunity to feel, lest there be some collection to like. Sure as the plague of my aching back, glee seduces my wicked long enough. Churning away at my psyche, seduction feeds the dirt on my palms. His guard holds duration. That is all. I could be more faithful than those that are imagined...bold and corrupt. I work as a culprit of greed. Need becomes less enticing than action, with retreat consuming reward. With all that demands, possibility resumes endless and daunting. This race lasted longer than I expected. A point of return fractured my mind. Paranoid, he voids my shift of grace into a putrid volition. what consumes a breed of lost wit? A broken shell can exclude humor with the bat of an eye. Although, my agreement mules danger. "How was your trip?" he glanced away. "To the moon?" I ask. Gently pressing at his fervor. A good day can only be present in void of placement. "Here we are...What's to do now?" He jousts, remotely. "Are you smart enough to feel my pain?" Work becomes complacent when deafness invades. It is the most beautiful host of resolve. Now, the day is done and we are without timber. Eviction of love drives despair from elevation. This storm is only as cold as he allows. I feared relieving his fantasy. Wailing at the royals only drives us deeper. But our way home is surrounded by them. He tosses an electric wail...pointing and screaming. My ego was broken at first sight of fire in these hills. "The pursuit hath driven him mad!" I let my thoughts come out. Ken prances merrily, as if there are more gains. "Can I hold your hand?" "No!" His stale smile warms the air. The time weighed steadily as we marched along. We are blameless, content and feared, lest impending doom relay our past. Dawns of carelessness and virtue disappear. I like to believe he is stranger than me. Consumption here would leave us lost in an epic of disregard, feeding insanity with simple steadiness and abrasion. The evening gave way to a furious hike. Finding sound reason is our most difficult task. Considering prioritizing allows space. Furthermore, the section was secure enough to keep danger in its' place. I had formed no beliefs at my last visit guarding the gate. But, my lack of detailed observation in this region has become costly. After what seems like centuries at other duties, we found ourselves back at post. Here, the same scene and continued angst. Still knowing there be no fail from the efforts of our 'Selected' to cease. I felt my secret plan frying away at my senses, with the spiral of existence up and down in this weather falsifying command. No food at our cabin. However, I still avoided the section of the Selected. It was an easy decision, not to meddle outside my class. Although, there's a peculiar tension here, as turmoil cannot deceive. I keep place as guard for the most mannered patients. They wait...posing and keeping the still of lowered expectations. Calm and honorably natured, they are charmed by the tension of crowd. Hacking at an aura elasticity and consuming fair portions. It is formidable. This Hades is a wave of brilliance, strengthened by the load of wealth. Gestures are nostalgic and keen, holding a consensus of structure. What's left is our blind anticipation of a tomb. Their eyes glisten with hopeless regard of other strangers in line. Here, there are no principles for differences. Ethics unite with a purpose devoured by time. "Are you ready?" He chimes in on the radio. "10-4..." I respond, fighting a smirk. "Any requests for a last meal?" "Just your lovely face." he chants. I know he is smiling. Purity resides in the justice of order. There will be no exhumation. Privacy has been silenced by resilience acknowledging the full spectrum of my provision. I stand, letting ignorance counter the perversion of morale. Without list for decree, the affect of content is fickle. To imagine any sacrifice for a morsel of pride purges my peace. Honor is a passion long forgotten by the waste of timid divinity. To commit to feeble joy is reprimand to remedy. There is no cure for betrayal of conscience. We are warped. Our beloved garden is no more. Here, I have become Bishop at the alter of our King. Entangled in strategy, thoughts become prison of sour conspiracy. Using force was my error. This is a painstaking lesson. Before empathy came, resolve was dry. The same observation resumes as there is no guarantee in evidence. Fused to design and backed by nothing more than self-reliance, I remain naked. Gaining the knowledge of a paralyzed romance is only a trophy of commute, tangible to location. There is no loathing deeper than the fate of deserted pursuit with inquiry the destination. The battalion to the west are darker than the soldiers I watch. Although, I don't mind them. The parameters of the sections must weigh equal in this regime, still serving the monarch. Fixing my gaze to the east, I wait for the winds to conquer. In a daze, I gaze to the right watching these warriors claw in full fury. Here is the muse of entitlements. As the fantasy dissipates a quick burst inverts my position to the fight. As always, crossing into the new portal was not easy. Meeting upon entry collapses nerve instantly. And my election is challenged at each encounter. "We have to fight!" Her claws rip at my skin as the words form. Frozen, the shock consumes. My antennas flexed as I grounded in the scene. For the first time, I witnessed a band of tiny soldiers marching...the clouds descending as they moved. Headed for the guillotine, each of them vacant and charged. What possession could fleet them to martyr before aging? The tomb diminishes to darkness as they vanish. Adjusting my sight away from the offense I stretched my gauntlet to examine the torn skin on my arm. Holding firm look on this, the eyes of her monster ejected from her head. I was raptured as her presence folded into mine. This was our farewell. With acquisition distant, claiming the chaste of evil, I have settled for idle duty, catching the intimacy of apology with humble interest. As curiosity is stashed in the cupboard of absurdity, reason meets the churning of principal. For without knowing the scope of harm, protection is certain. Yet, the miracle of evasion challenges my soothe. There is no stake in the malice of Hybrids. Only a firm lesson in the stolen visit purifies a clever entry upon my next station. She is the daughter of a General...brave in exploits and notable at thought...trying to be like her Father, but orbiting in a plane of desperate flock. She refused alternate opinion and assumes all as subjects to her glory, Expecting one would remain silent in her bind and implicit in her despair. She is busy, envious, cruel, violent and governed. Odd truths as the freedom I deliver is issued by the same brand. She commits to ideology of harsh epithet. For the Earth realm this is tedious, subtle and taxing. Custom spread about by belief erodes the lense. For the harm I am committed to prevent lures itself by the base of prediction. Marissa...searching for me whilst I linger. Speaking against the fight to resolve scale by fate. Here, the struggle ensues. For there is no purpose for either of us except morality, which is constantly taunted. If her fear is alluring, what waste of chase we gather. This woman is awaiting treachery and I would share no part in ignorance. There would be no wound to my essence if safeguard was apprehensive. Even with the reset of conscience, we are perplexed by placement. Wrath hounds her ministry. We are pensive in this new abode. She is my wonder...where the lust consumed by passion steals acceptance. Still, I am the failure of her calm. There must remain heart in truth. Where have we gone? It is the burden of mastery...an art that can't be treated by those entangled by concept. Interfering with spells ties wear to effort. And persuasion disrupts the coils of triumph by diligence. Marissa has a kind spirit, but conquest can lead one to parts unknown. Such places starve darkness and tremble light. Salvation anchors the wind of her foes. Eureka! She has none. A close enemy is stricter than a far friend. Upon the same mystery, we bend pretense into the allure of old...greed. We share somber assurance in a placid grave. She should call my name! My frame would bleed the blessings of her youth. "Here I am Tybolt!" This is who I am here. She sleeps with a potion of deaf relation. If she were granted the proposal she sought immediately, such would be obvious. Indeed, less painful. What sense consumes the youth of loss endeavor? Marissa is unique compared to my previous charges, making a lesson out of each step, procuring method and keeping faith next to doubt. The resources she contracts are beyond her control, giving way to the sorrows of worn. Her mind elevates the realm, to stance me by indifference. She is fixed in a place and time that is not her own and will not give up. I question my own recognizance. We do not weigh conscience in the same manner, so I have no fault beneath hers as we both fold the the yank of possibility in treaty. "Gain!" I whisper...knowing she will not wake. There will be no further adjustments to this case unless she calls my name. This is oath! It is all work, finding solace with boundaries. There could be empathy with a challenge in gratitude. I am thankful for it all. As the shell of her longing erodes, dare I abscond, for what holding would I betray besides some stolen pride. The capacity of delight folded itself into this by a hedge of reprimand. Still selection is fair. As the sun rises, she becomes simple, returning to the self that hinders trust. This is necessary in her policy of courtship. The way she collaborates effort with disgrace is a spectacle. Eating and drinking a merry sight with a tight heart. That is a mirror of the past. We are different. The capsule of disgust carries no weight. However, I may not tell what covers her gait. Her adventure is a place I see without looking. She is not alone at breakfast today. One of the men visited to bring her coffee. Their conversation was shortened by her resignation. They shared caramel covered peanuts from a horn. The woman chipped off tiny planks of it with the meal. A specialty...dangerous I presume. Reeling thoughts fairs full focus. But, the constant checks and relay of schedule is consuming to the man. If any contribution of mine could be useful, it would be that of word. The expounding of her reason comes noisily. The relief of patience is by sight and she keeps a posture of kind control. Simple to my work. But, I sense value in this. I shall do no harm. Here is fairness. Grand prediction has become useless. The weight of scaling provides no tuner for the voice. Time serves no bother in the weight of transition. Similar to my voyages she moves. ruminating foiled departure shall remain with me. I should not consumed by factions that have no service in my protection. Before being ejected from my post, I found validity in disregard. Now, the Earth realm seems compelling for similar reason. With bounds dividing the realm, cloning could provide a pleasant occupation for her. At least, a pardon from the constant aggravation she taunts. Marissa is a poignant human. More often than most she trials her dexterity of heart. Like some animal placing a next the task is fluid. Appearing seamless, it is enough to justify some eloquence to monotony. If there is a place she treasures, no one would find it. Today's task, to knock five seconds off her evening jog. It includes one stop halfway. If the five seconds is returned she won't skip dinner. The deal includes an extra serving of honey at dinner if she's fast enough to pull it off. I laugh...I laugh!? As her entire lifespan can tune in the blink of an eye. This run is important to her...as if cardiovascular strength can encourage divine epithet. Sweet Marissa. She challenges simple pleasures that come freely, aims for invisible borders and pursues empty repose. She is like an ail pressed from the springs of the sky. This evening, no dinner. "My Prince!" She slams down the receiver to greet him at the door. Estranged for years, they share compatibility in the recognition of similar attributes. "It's an inquisition against the spirit to speak of dangerous things." Before he could muster a response she planted a kiss on his cheek and rushed to the kitchen. Returning without bread Marissa continued with words against his ear until they retired for the evening. There is a sense of charm in her words, beyond the content of their intimacy. They find no pretense in command and meaning corrupts the value of its' depth. Without this, bliss remains inept as a minor fleet and surrender to the sensations. So...he does back down to her hound. A gentle reminder that vanity is doomed to the fortune of chance. Each day wills its' grace, coaxing the fervor of plenty...quiet, sharp and angular. An intent challenged by bind of feeble notations. She chats away the days as he ushers the nights. What ample nuance performs more capable than this union? What response enables full enchantment? For the efforts of love affairs upon my witness, this case pleasures the gentry only. A dry, blank and continuous endurance elevates the demand for a larger spectrum Yet, she has not called me. As the 3rd night of their union passed, they were awakened by a whirring sound. It shook the loft and Marissa jumped out of bed in militant style. The man made no motion, fighting to return to his slumber as she edged for the window. One glance gave her position to see what caused the nuisance. Here, at twilight the giant disk that covered the whole landscape let of a brilliant flash as it conquered the sky. In an instant, the metal went from huge to tiny in the sky as it blasted off, tuning the air back to darkness. Marissa...consumed by the sight blanked into a state of shock. She tiptoed to the bathroom and lost the night in this trance. "What did she see?" He pleaded fervently. "Doctors, lawyers, criminals, sorcerers, witches, fiends, pirates, champions, martyrs, technicians, va..." He cut the man off. "What do you mean she's gone? Why would she leave her own loft?" "Look, man I'm just here to file the report. People are talking. You were here, so we'd like to get your side of the story." "I don't know anything?!" he answered solemnly. There is purpose in script. To form a message of any Calibur guilds the depths of the heart. From one to another, chance is prescribed as the hope of assurance in relay. There were many letters. A batch of tears and glee wrapped tightly to my angst. It was good. Even with the torch burning our past, my stomach fluttered at the thought. My beast winced at the blaze as the fortune of our future relapsed. I know he will find me. Then too, I will offer him a sour repose. The fire crackling at each toss of amber reminded me of his bleeding tongue. The last meal we shared wasted by my fury, and to blame is much of history tossed to the winds. "You'll be like me one day!" I gleam, anchoring my stance behind the curtains. My teasing must be fair against his resolve. As a man full of pride, he prances his charm about by trust. Ken's mission stripped of favor and gains, but I came to understand human love. Slow, timid, scarce, trivial, challenging and pure. There is no value in this. But, the aesthetic carries a charm well enough to assume some. I fancy to make allies without containment. I believe for a moment that I could hold on to something. I think that I am free. For some time...with love I am. This invention is a sobering reduction, but true. Here, finding that the laws can't be broken, which fixes the stance of those bold enough to keep pursuit. One can imagine, but as I am...there is no gratitude in searching to find what is known in the depths of belonging. With love, my hands are mere tools at the sake of grasping. My heart, a tank lost by protection. My feet plateaus to the depths of relay. I can fade from the memory of law by the echo. The humans cannot have this luxury.A wailing shrill on the radio flexed my antennas. The comfort of this voyage can't compare to that of past endeavors. This thirst has driven the spectacle to a kingdom of its own. Separate from the frost of the heavens, they have found purpose in diving. This...my kind can not share. He sits...warped in thoughts unspoken. If he speaks without gesture an unfortunate tune absorbs his word. An aching lull to my ears, dreading what order may follow. Playfulness has revised to a sneaky cruelty. One that looks for a ballad of far away notions. If intelligence be the essence of his heart, I am doomed to lose wind. But, the brooding template he treats is a fancy form of apathy. What place can sustain with insolent demands and fiery reprimands? "Not having that here!" I tell him. He offers a steady contradiction to my peace, even at sacrifice of his own. It doesn't take many words to conquer hatred...it takes more to fuel anger. After our loathing sets in my censure awakens. His...still lost at sea from fury. Sore enough to continue, I keep a balanced counter. A human sought to take my place. I allowed, knowing there be no faith in her trust. Nonetheless, I have sense that I will be sent for a new charge soon. Ken's disposition remained the same. The thoughtful smirks he offered from time-to-time were refreshing. I kept quiet, letting him juggle us both with a fierce command. When she began dumping poison in his food my response was rigid. "You want him to take his medicine don't you!" I grimaced. She touched my 'hand' and flashes rallied my antennas. Pity welled in my suit. "What's going on in there?" Ken screeched from the bedroom. A sudden knock at the door froze our attention. Before anyone answered, 3 soldiers marched in blaring whistles at the tempo of a fickle pleasure. I stood at attention, waiting for my senses to settle. Suddenly raptured by a large wing I was swallowed by a black bird. Its' wing span covered all of the sky. As I was caught up, stillness consumed my presence. Enveloped in this flight, the blight of its command fueled new honor. Where the figurative blossom of danger abridged fury. Our station...a dense, glowing sculpture. This must be a different plane. "Digin rad, digin rad, digin rad." The little soldiers marched in double-time. They were not the same. Their faces shown an aura of peace that was not present before the guillotine, and they had been implanted with a single antenna, protruding from the top of their heads. The statue cooled as they built a formation around it, still glowing as if it were hot. The commander flew down to lift it, as the leader of their march rushed toward me, in a flash! He leaped above my head and brandished a sword. I posed no guard, only a reflective gesture by consumption. "Kiel!" He shouts, aiming to split me in two. The thrust did not sway me. But, the bird planted the statue down and engulfed us both. The land plateaued and we were gone. Our task was relayed in flight. It resembled the King's command. "The humans have been charged by our selected. They are not granted your council any longer. Remember the laws...you are chosen." We landed. "Home!" I shouted, with resonance that shook the grounds. My flowers, the clovers...Sequoias as far as the eye could see. I rocked back and forth as my body swelled. Light has returned and this field of rainbows still. Returned to me! Beauty conquered my soothe after taking a glance at this new 'chosen'. He worked with the same flash-speed of diligence I used to serve. Done in seconds...setting fire to a small portion of the clovers. It burned a brilliant cool that did not spread. Then, he attached his gauntlet to mine with the same peace upon his face that I'd seen from the other small soldiers. Having never witnessed another like me, I became perplexed at the scene. With separate training, bodies and solace we are charged. We flew to Earth, without any interest in that of the selected, except monitoring. With no interest in that of the Selected our senses intertwined. In an instant, we traversed and tuned in on the same turmoil at the gate where I first witnessed these soldiers. With the key guarded, we elevated the tomb showing the empty throne of the King. The ravenous fight to the west settled. Instead, there were trades of human bodies back and forth between poles. These Selected flew fast, but we're not as quick as I could lap them. I recalled the laws: 1) Do no harm (to humans) 2) Protect the realm 3) Hold the key... Before recollecting them all, my fusion with Ch'den (whom I named the tiny soldier) collapsed as he flew to guard one of the human children at the east. Handing me the fetus, we flew to Earth to give it place. They called her Megan. She was frozen in a state of perplexity, wonder and amusement. We watched patiently as she grew, becoming a studious child. She kept tune with some abnormal issues. Like humans forcing her sister to eat when she wasn't hungry. Or the teachers she witnessed smearing peanut butter on some of her favorite collections in the library. She worked like us...continuous, but not fluid. With expectations subdued at each service, she settled as a caretaker for old William. He was a pitiful sight, with continuous fussing and raving enough to fuel madness, but she was patient. She kept a furley disposition, guarding her family and thrashing her foes with chilly repulse. They would outstretch the heavens for her approval, but this would not come. Instead a restless battle. She was fluid, composed and energetic, and in tune with perfection. "What do you mean she's dead?" "It was a car crash...she's on life support. her mother explained gently. "What!?" she exclaimed. Fury took over and as she filled with rage, so did her assault. She invested tirelessly, seeking to destroy anything and anyone that had hurt her dear sister. Me and Ch'den kept a watchful eye over her. His antenna flexed at the event, seeking my council in guard. Having been referred to a guru...some tensions released as he was expected to follow her every command. The exchange sought to cure her thirst for revenge. However, his peace in her quest angered her.He never posed solutions and left resolve as an empty contribution of hope. "You're the expert. You must know how to wake her up!" Megan pleaded. "Life is in the eyes of the spirit." Anat responded. "You know what I mean! She's not dead. You must have a potion, elixir...something we can do to get her talking!" "You are talking." he responded. Before he could finish, she clenched his throat, twisting his head back and forth. "You will fix this!" she demanded. With that he slammed the gas pedal and they were off. Ch'den was anxious to finish this case, as was I. Subduction in the Earth realm takes extreme effort. Causing the kindest souls to sour. Some effect can be portrayed in diligence. The fact remains...they are not the same. Aside from asthetics, they are separated our realms, where those who share are appointed and structured. For a moment, time lapses and work becomes the projection of the favored. There was no halt to Megan's mission. She could command the fouls of the air with a smile, but this rarity would not come without some peace for the passing of her sister. She wasted the days surveying footage and scrolling through newspapers, looking for clues to solve the case of her loss. "Dine with me Megan." Anat requested kindly. "No!" She answered abruptly. After a while, she was lured to the table. Ch'den continued to press me for a speedy resolve to this case. His gaze would not quit. I expected intervention to be fast and prompt, but did not meddle. Megan canvassed with the same angst that charged her people. She kept remarkable order and strength. Passing the days by weight of command...generous and faithful. "You have to come to terms with it. Your sister is dead!" The woman urged. At the home of a stranger, the tale of this mention sent Megan reeling. Her mind wandered, piling questions upon the case of her knowledge. She glanced at Anat. "I got your terms" Megan responded, snatching the glass jar that held her eye. "You'll be a blind b***h without me!" Megan pronounced as she stormed out the door. The woman (who claimed she couldn't walk) bursted from her wheelchair to usher them out the door. As they left she tossed a glass out the door, hoping it would land at her head. Megan would not get in the car. Instead her vexation sent her marching, alone into the night. She kept a grueling and deliberate pace forward making stops at any place that would keep her. With a twisted smile, she heightened expectation of those whom would listen and serve. She accepted the blessings of the poor and blasphemy of the wicked. As her faith climaxed and heart tumbled with sorrow, so did the ache of her guru. Ch'den sped to the edges of the Earth in a flash to bring her a storm. A most brilliant wave parted the sky with her tears. As she was consumed by the waves, she fought...swimming into the great with a violent ferocity. Our commander made a clandestine visit to Earth. Capturing Megan in the cleft of his wing. She did not see him. Instead, she witnessed mirror that elongated her body to the size of a whales casket. Faded by this, she saw her sister in her eyes. With the depths of her spirit captured in full capacity. Ch'den and I were teleported back to the gate. After urging me for the key he swooped away to the west as I centered at guard. Again, there was no destiny to report to the King. The wait tempered and bold held the Selected at bay. New passengers in these clouds facing the same treasure as I gracefully exposed. Resolving the plight of one soldier to charm the efforts of many. Chilled at the east, a time of rest has come for our chosen. Still, the brave have conquered less than what could be exposed. Grueling at the tempo of our army that fed erosion. What discovery edges the tension of our martyrs? Seeking beyond the unknown to the void of complete exposition yields many voyages, but trances the savage. What plight may grant the flight from gracious abode? Pleasing the errors of a cause that is known to breed expulsion... we continue. A statue at an empty throne protected by the great cannot weigh against the balance of time. "Tybolt!" She calls my name, and I am here... In an instant the winds cease and the heat consumes. In a moment the heart beats and the melody soothes. Less than seconds pass before she knows me. Yet, we are not alone. She does not speak. Only gestures for the man to guard her prison. I laugh...I laugh! The glow of thousands of suns unite her bondage. The cool of hundreds of years release mine. She digs. Hoping to place her gratitude in the depths of passing souls. The town lights again. With the fuel of many lanterns the passing of some shall lead them to me again. Where waiting has become the lure of the faithful and taint of the enigmatic. Where youth protrudes against the respect of old to fool the same. Solemnly we behold, we are not the same.