Red and pink static in a circle; eye of an electromagnetic field; jolts of energy pulsing in his veins; flocks of birds morphing into white crucifixes, startling Antwon Legion from his onyx reflection in the bulletproof glass of the Hummer limousine.
Samoan bodyguards Fruity and Balthazar, formerly with Justin Timberlake, notice Legion flinch, decide it’s nothing, go back to sharing a cherry blunt, filling up the cabin with ganja smoke. At least the movie star wasn’t having a fitful nightmare about being crucified in Golgotha, which was heavy, and often. Legion takes a massive hit, coughs up a lung, plays with his Doberman, Bulgakov, as the Hummer rolls through Century City, past a homeless guy with a WILL SCREENWRITE FOR FOOD sign, arriving in front of Omniscience/Ragnarök.
Inside the mausoleum lobby, surrounded by every living soul of the agency, Lester Barnes welcomes the Stygian movie star with a fist bump. Legion appreciates their applause, his favorite sound in the world, all those subservient white faces making him the master, and they, his slaves.