Project

7.?: Unknown Change

The End...

The En-

A small meow broke the intense silence, and a tiny black cat strolled in and towards each of the gentlemen. The purring caught Writer's attention, and then he caught a glimpse of the night cat in the corner of his eye.

"Minette! I thought I closed the door, sorry. I'll, well..." But her voice became faint, as Writer was no longer focusing on the world around him, but the lost memory that he had always hidden from his vision.

The memory enveloped him, his childhood tears streaking across his little face, a boy who had lost his best friend, a family member lead astray. Yet, that boy never gave up searching, never gave up on hope, and kept believing that he could find her once more. Soon enough, his perseverance prevailed, and he had found what he had lost many months ago.

It's surprising where inspiration comes from, and where seemingly forgotten memories lie. Sometimes, they come from the strangest of places, places that couldn't even be predicted by the greatest predictors.

But it didn't matter, they were giving up.

They were...

They...

No.

No, they weren't giving up. How could they? They had come so far. Their story couldn't end now. They had come so close; they had reached what Sam and Project believed to be the final page...

But words were still unsaid, sentences unwritten.

"You're right; we do have a choice." Writer looked up, and a new feeling came through him, a feeling of freedom. Hope rushed through his veins, his heart pumped with no predicted rhythm, and his mind surged in such a way that was untraceable. Questioner still had his head hung low, however, unwilling to try, "What's the point in saying that? It's probably just what you're meant to do." He complained; his conscience almost non-existent. But Writer... Mark... was having none of it.

"Look at me," he commanded Questioner, "do you remember that time we both had dreams of meeting superheroes? Time-travellers? Wizards? We were told as a kid that they don't exist in the real world, but did that stop us from trying to find them in forests, valleys, or anywhere across the world? No. We went searching until the sun set, and then some. We don't give up, we promised each other that, and if I'm still gonna fight, then you have to."

Questioner let the memories flood into his mind, the searches with dim torches, the climbs and injuries of branches. He remembered the calls, he remembered the hopes, he remembered his childish ignorance to those that told him to stop believing. Did they stop him? No. No matter what Questioner did, no matter how many times his mother said, "Bruce for the love of god get those fairy tales out of your head," he kept trying.

Dedication came back to Bruce, his eyes full of life, freedom. That feeling erupted across the globe, and people everywhere stopped for just a moment, and felt this new feeling go through them. A feeling like no other, a feeling of true freedom. Some enjoyed, most loved, but a couple got scared. Two people felt this unexpected feeling, felt this sudden rush of freedom from being set off their natural path.

Wynter looked up at the two, surprised by the bright aura that newly surrounded them. They were no longer the gentlemen hiding behind a badge, they were no longer following a set-up. It was as if the very embodiment of hope had absorbed them, as if the very premise of dedication was their new way of life. "So, you're breaking the mould?" They both looked at each other, "I believe so." Mark hoped.

"Well, before you go, just know that Project is still a friend to all of us. They had helped through tough times, and yet never asked for things in return. I know that this isn't how they should've turned out; they shouldn't be this way. So, please, see what you can do for Project. I saw the look in their eyes the last time I saw them: they were trapped by something, someone, forced onto a path which led them to break. It's not who they are, they are so much better than this." Wynter gave them some final words, hoping that the duo takes it on board.