Tears clattered on the ground, wetting the dirt as the fingers sank into it. "Why?" weeped the young boy, "why?" The fingers of the beggar boy turned purple and the nails white. "WHAT DID WE DO?" cried the boy as he looked up at the old beggar, his eyes red and swollen from the salt water. A scar on the face a trace from a beating by Vectorians months ago. "WHYY?...WHYYY?"
"Because we exist, boy. Because we exist." He watched the boy on the ground, curling up. Just moments ago, he had revealed the truth about the boy's life. The boy was an esper, and so had his parents been. He had shown him their fate, and that of the others. Now he knew. The child was trembling on the floor as he shook, overtaken by emotion.
The old beggar looked back at the boy's face, straight into the eye, and he said, "Let it all out, lad. Feel the pain. Your pain, mine and of those that went before us. Forge it into the fires of your hate into cold steel. Keep it to yourself through whatever aeons might come and unleash it the day we annihalate them. For that day will come, lad. Oh yes, it will." Veins on the old man's hand bulged as his hand tried to crush the wooden staff he leaned on. Under his hood two dark blue eyes burned with the intensity of a thousand suns, filled with hatred.
"What...what do you want me to do?" croaked the boy.
"Listen..."
