The world is imperfect. Disorder thrives where order should reign. Shadows gather in the corners of men’s minds, and smoke drifts through the spaces they do not see. I exist because the world demands correction. I observe, I measure, I act. Every motion, every breath, every hesitation is accounted for - or will be. Its my tool, my witness, my declaration. Do not mistake calm for mercy, nor stillness for indifference. What you perceive as fate is but the gentle pressure of my hand guiding fate.
Enjoyed reading?
Share this comic now.
