CC Round Four Introduction

The rust haunts me.

Its deathly encore has failed, but the show must go on. The show always goes on. The actors can't stop the show. They can only prevent it from coming about once more. Yet they refuse to see the rust, for the show fascinates their minds with its gory splendor.

Peel away the facade, and all that remains is the street. The street down which the curs flee. The curs who stumble and fall to the ground. The ground that rends them to bone, flesh, and blood. The blood that courses through the gutters.

They see nothing of it until it consumes them.

Only by seeing the truth can they shield themselves from the implacable doom. Yet, to understand this truth, they must face the doom itself.

I faced it, once. I looked death in the eye-

-and I couldn't look away.

The abyss was terrifying, maddening, tortuous. I stared too deeply within, and it stared back into my soul. The others, too, can't look away. They don't understand the doom, and it draws them in like moths to a flame.

Some turn away before they begin to burn.

Some brush the inferno and recoil in horror.

Some sparkle like meteors as they turn to fire.

They must understand the cold reality. The flame warms their chilled souls. It provides respite and comfort. Soon, though, it turns against them. It sears their flesh, chars their bones, incinerates their lives.

So grows the inferno.

My flame is different. It does not destroy.

I am different. I do not destroy.

Three acts remain.

I'll burn on.