January 3, 2011
[[An adult and a child are talking.]]
Child: What’s that on your arm?
Adult: The mark of a secret society.
Child: If it’s secret, why tell me –
Adult: Because I know nothing. I can’t betray them because I don’t know who they
I was chosen by an agent 20 years ago. That was my first and last direct contact. It’s safer that way.
Narration: Six years later I found a piece of paper in the street with an address on it. The next day I found a can of kerosene in my garage that I’m sure I never bought.
[[The panel represents these actions by highlighting the mentioned objects in a world of gray.]]
Narration: I didn’t know whose house it was. I just knew that I’d been given my orders. And I carried them out.
[[A dark figure is silhouetted against a flame.]]
Adult: I don’t know who or what we’re fighting.
Adult: Maybe we’re the bad guys.
Adult: It doesn’t matter to me.
Adult: It’s enough to know that there are forces working beneath the chaos of life, and I’m a
Adult: That whatever this “pen fifteen” club is,