Carefully, he began opening the envelope with his bare fingers; tools as much an afterthought as the small rips and tears denotating his curiosity upon the withered package. It consumed and mesmerized him until at last he unfolded the sheet waiting within with baited breath.

A sight to behold, his hosts watched bemused.

Not that he'd noticed—his head was all but glued to the plain text infront.

The average letter which Viktor had began reading was obviously old and held colored creases. Nonetheless, it was was not completely handwritten—rather, typed instead.

"Plan V." Could be spotted where a title might go, all by itself heading the top.

Below, the fully body lived,

"There are, undoubtedly and unfortunately, a great many things which I can say, though my absence makes them nearly as worthless as this page if I were alive.

If it is then, that the true inherent owner of this comes about it and is reading this, then they already know what is...

Hello, Viktor. I was a man of great time, as I'm sure you will come to be. So this will be short, to your very loving mother's consternation.

Dwell not on the past, but do know of it.

You hail from a line of good men caught with their pants down—this very letter nailing me to the same cross... Use your belt!

You will come to be aware of many names in your time as mine, but know that your name, Akakios, is to good as the sun does rise, and trust not the shadow, for you too will come to shine.

But enough of that. Love will see you through all chaos.

If you further wish to enquire upon the past and seek it's wisdom, then find any one of the many roads which lead to home."

Signed below, "Through equilibrious order, your eternally proud parents, Eva & Avante."

But it didn't end there.

At the very bottom of the paper was a curious numbering; page twenty-two of twenty-six.

Viktor was now wearing half-masked confusion, thinking to himself,

Twenty-two of twenty-six? Didn't he say it'd be short?

What the-

Wait... 'Plan—V'...? 'Plan Viktor'?!

Hmmm... Twenty-six. So one for each letter of the alphabet? Or is it just one piece of a whole?

Noticing the young man's puzzlement, Knox couldn't help the curiousness of his own.

"So? What'd it say?!"

"Ah, if you wish to tell me, of course..."

Viktor looked to him.

"You wouldn't happen to have any more of these letters, would you?"

"No, I don't. Not from him at least."

"Hmmm..."

"Did he ever speak of a different child, son, or daughter?"

"No."

From half to half, his mouth now bore a frown.

So no other child... I mean, I never did hear of him having any, but that includes me...

But why leave the page numbering?

What about the arcane?

One of his thoughts quietly broke through,

"And where the hell is 'home'?"

A, "Nya!" of the same volume gripped his attention back.

"I didn't see it on any of your property listings, but I did visit Avante once in what appeared to be a house." Knox pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the first time I met him, I was in a very large mansion—beautiful place. All the other times, it was outside or at a business, but nothing that resembled what I saw in your files."

"That's probably it then!" Viktor cheered.

"Do you know where it is?"

Knox angled his head left and right.

"No. It was a long time ago, but it was definitely over seas..."

The eighteen-year-old sighed as he folded the paper and softly placed it back, redirecting his attention towards the fake-but-real window.

Oh well...

Elsewhere in the world, a Russian woman with dirty emerald green hair and milky gray irises marveled at the vial she held towards the only meager source of light in the room.

Ah, how amazing I look!

She thought while looking through the eyes of another close to her.

It was unfortunate, as she was blind—not that it ever halted anyone with such ambitions. She could still view herself through another, stepping in their shoes for a time.

The vial she held, the breakfast lain before her, and even the meticulously placed guards stationed outside her door, all works of her own, strings strung with a spider's skillfulness.

Soon...

Soon.

With a heartbreaking sigh, her shoulders and upper body fell limp like a doll as she placed the solution down on her breakfast tray, massaging her slightly atrophied arms.

Thin electrical wiring was attached to certain places on her body, providing passive muscular stimulation. It had been too long since she had moved, again.

But despite it all, a sinister smile blossomed on her withered face. Her plan had succeeded. The geniuses were dead; all of them.

It was a meticulously and laboriously hatched plan, let free from its shell no more than a decade ago.

In a slow manner she propped herself against the headrest, reminiscing with closed eyes, caressing the ends of her long hair, and fed herself with a puppet...

"..."

"Oh dear, you can't be serious." Avante teased.

"So you're the one running about with all those poor mindless people..."

"Ms. Green." He said, lifting his eyes from the document he held.

Kate Green, the Puppetmaster scowled with half-lidded eyes.

Where the fuck is this?!

Why can't I locate this place?!! I haven't moved at all!

...Or have I?

She could no longer locate herself through her puppets, and was nearly panicking on the surface.

With a clearly hoarse voice she tried to speak, "So what? You found me. You think you're safe?!"

"I can just take over a puppet anytime I want! How'd you get here? And what do you want?!" She squeaked out.

After but two sentences, her breathing became difficult, exponentially frightening her and failing to mask any hint of strength.

Completely ignoring her false bravado, he countered with one of his own—folding his paper and tucking it away in the process, "Why, through the front door of course."

The bed released a small creak as he sat next to her. Her eyes darted to the sound, a wasteful venture.

She screamed inwardly, as her body began to quiver,

Fuck-fuck-fuck--fuck, I'm dead!

Please don't rape me, please don't rape me!

Avante frowned as he observed her condition.

"Who do you think I am?" He asked.

"S-some cra-azy asshole!" She nearly choked out.

"Hmmm? Strange. I don't recall ever having done anything particularly noteworthy for such a title, but I suppose there's worse." He returned after brief consideration.

Then again, I did just barge in here, didn't I?

What was I here for again? Ah, right, the puppets!

"Anywho, the world is a bit crazy as it is, isn't it? I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't go around playing dollhouse with our already meager attempt at worldly civility."

He snapped his fingers, raising his pointer, "Ah-ha!"

"How about this? I give you proper instruction on how to quit being so conspicuously ostentatious, and you give me a single lock of your lovely hair!" He proposed with a, "snip-snip" of scissors that appeared out of thin-air.

She tried moving her arm, then her other arm, but they wouldn't respond. It terrified her. How could she have forgotten about her real body? She couldn't stop him even if she wanted to, and the truth was making her eyes wet. Her chest heaved as her lips trembled.

Ah shoot, now you're making me feel bad... Come on... He frowned.

"Look dear, I'm only here straighten things up, not to hurt you. Shouldn't you be older than this?"

"Sniff-sniff. Fine." She angrily agreed through a breathless whisper.

Avante shook his head as he examined her condition and reached for his handkerchief. Out of his breastpocket, he began dabbing near her eyes and nose.

"Good. You'll find today to be a most pleasant wake-up call, I think. And I hope you glean some wisdom once this is all said and done. Oh and about your current dolls, they're currently outside your reach is all. I've seperated your mind from the outside world for the moment."

"Who-?" She whimpered.

Avante halted mid-snip and straightened himself upright.

Shortly looking upwards, he held his forehead with his freehand, "So forgetful! Please excuse me! I'm quite busy you see, as my schedule has gone parabolic recently—what, with the anarchy and such."

"You know me by 'asshole', but if you would humor me some respect, my preferred title is Avante."

"Snip!"

"And with that, I shall take my leave." He stated, turning around and getting back up with another small creak from the bed.

"Wait! D-d-didn't you say you'd help me or s-something?" She stammpered out, nearly exhausted.

"Why yes! All you have to do, is find me." He replied with a smirk.

"Goodbye!"

And with that, the door shut quick behind him, "Click-ka-donk."

After a momentary abatement, she regained her unfeeling nerves, thinking inwardly,

Oh thank god, I can feel them again, my puppets!

But what do I do? What if when I reconnect I can't come back again?!

She knew, though she pretended not to. It was her only choice.

I have to... I can't even move...

God, I must look like a skeleton right now! How long has it been?

Days? Weeks? Months?

Actually, how am I even still alive?! How did I forget to drink and feed myself?!

The surprise she felt upon revisiting her body was palpable. The man she was controlling—an elderly gentleman by the nickname, "Zero"—had nearly tripped upon seeing such a sight. Kate had nearly lost control at that moment and it wouldn't have been pretty.

She was skinny. Very skinny. The only difference between her current state and a mummy was but perhaps the presentation, colouration, and location. A mere skeleton's cousin, perhaps.

Back inside her luxurious residential home, she slowly felt along her cheek after swallowing her food; searching for the once great concavity of that time—a haunting memory she'll never forget.

But things were different now. Her body was always in a state of continual change; decline, followed thereafter by slightly better breaks of improvement. Instead of blindly controlling others and causing undue chaos, she had a purpose—a vision; to help those who needed it, and see to the protection of those she cared for.

And, after many trials and tribulations, she did it. Most of those she cared for were in good positions, and the untold countless amount of lives she saved were vast, continuing to this very day. Feelings of fullness and achievement, yet hallow and meaninglessness coursed within.

The threat of superpowered ingenuity had been quelled, but for how long? Surely it was only a matter of time. The once great incalculable magician and his merry band of faithful worshipers had long since been eradicated. True magic hadn't been felt in the air in a long time. Good deeds, feats of inhuman power, and scientific prowess were a magic in their own right, but to see the inflexible nature of reality outright break would never get old.

She tried her best to clean up the power vacuum left behind, but the nature of humanity was anything but simple. Material possession, control, wonder, lust, and more—there was always a reason—and she felt no shame to admit her participation. If not for herself or those around her, then the least she could do was see to Viktor's safety. The current crowd of crooks who thought they ruled the world needed to be watched, and if necessary, stopped.

Naturally, things quickly got out of hand, and so she was forced to make some decisions. She couldn't do everything herself, try as she might. Unfortunately, it was also during that time of recovery and plotting that an incident occurred to her deceased mentor's son...