Steven had, just very recently in fact, done something bad. Really bad. A more morally conscious mind might say heinous, though Steven wasn't particularly moral or conscious, speeding down the winding Boulder mountain road at close to a hundred miles an hour, one hand pressed against his bleeding stomach, the other clenching the wheel. His eyes glanced up at the rear view mirror every five seconds, nothing behind him but road and beyond that forest. He hadn't thought this far ahead. He didn't think he'd need to.

Thoughts flashed through his mind like film reel, a tempest of incoherent noise. Home. He'd go home first. Was it smart? Probably not. Definitely not. But Steven, paranoid and always in expectation of some nebulous dread and doom much like his father was, kept most of his cash under his mattress, believing it to be safer than the bank. If he was going to be on the run, he needed money. Everything required money, even crime.

When Steven pulled up in front of his small suburban house, clone houses lined up next to it for blocks, he was surprised by how serene the scene was. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but he was at least anticipating cop cars outside his house. But the only vehicle there was his mom's 2005 autumn green Subaru Outback, parked in front of the driveway, dents in the hood from hail that his mom swore every tax season she'd finally get fixed.

Steven parked his old Ford pickup a little down the block, not wanting his mom or sister to see it. It was inching closer to dusk, the sun beginning to set and a soft, golden glow cast over the mountain town. Before getting out, Steven grabbed a black hoodie from the back seat and pulled it over his now ruddy white tee, groaning in the process. He also grabbed his Vanilla Colorado Rockies baseball cap, tossing it over his obsidian hair then depatring his truck.

Steven weaved down the suburban street like a ninja, at least that's how he'd like to think he appeared. When he reached his house, he jumped (in reality fell over, that's what happens when you opt for the computer lab instead of gym class everyday, kids) over the old and rickety white picket fence, the dewy grass of his backyard greeting his face with a thud.

After dusting himself off a little, he climbed up the ponderosa pine tree which sat next to his bedroom window, and leaped to the window ledge. He always kept his window open a crack for fresh air, especially during spring when the breeze was nice and the air seemed sweet. All this intense motion of course only caused Steven's already gaping wound to stretch open even more, the leap from the tree to the window causing Steven to emit a moan that could only be compared to the orgasam of a frail man.

When inside, Steven cried briefly for a moment on his maroon carpet, then quickly came to his senses and got up. He hoisted up his mattress, underneath a stack of cash, a box of condoms for sensitive skin (never used, unfortunately), a half-eaten bar of shrooms and his father's pistol.

Steven looked at the pistol, his chest heaving as his breath became heavy. He fell to his knees, beginning to weep. Not the cute, movie weeping either. He sobbed like a mother in mourning, snot dripping from his nose. He put his face in his hands.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What did I do-"

"Steven?"

Steven jerked his face around, Sarah standing in the entrance of his room.

"Oh, hey Sarah", Steven said, sucking his snot back into his nose and wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve. "W-what are you doing?"

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Sarah only stood, looking at Steven, the setting sun sneaking through the window and reflecting on her dusky brown hair. A trait from dad.

As Sarah looked at Steven, it wasn't anger in her eyes. Just disappointment. Which made it all the worse.

"You're on the news", Sarah only replied.

Steven sniffed, nodding his head.

"Yeah, I figured."

Sarah leaned against the doorframe, her teddy bear 'Professor Mango' bumping his head against the door.

"Are you leaving?"

Steven nodded his head.

"I have to."

"Mom's in her room. She's been crying the last twenty minutes or so. It's scary. I don't know what to do."

Steven forced a half-smile. "You'll think of something", he said.

Sarah didn't nod, or reply, her gaze lowering to the carpet.

"...are you a bad person?"

Steven put his head down. He opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. He grabbed the cash and pistol and threw it in a backpack that lay on the floor, zipping it up and putting it on.

"I-I gotta go now, Sarah."

Steven walked to Sarah, crouching down on his knee. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Be good, Sarah. I-I love you."

Steven reached out his hand, but Sarah leaned in, wrapping her arms around him.

"Okay. I will."

Sarah unwrapped her arms and pulled back, Steven crying.

"I mean it. I love you."

Sarah nodded her head.

"I know."

Steven planted a kiss atop Sarah's head and got up, returning to the window. He jumped from the window ledge and to the tree branch, the branch snapping and Steven falling to the ground.

"Steven", Sarah screamed, running to the window. When she got there though, she was met with a strange sight. The blades of overgrown grass blowing slightly, and Steven nowhere to be seen.

***

Steven wondered if he was perhaps in hell at first, blackness encompassing him like a blanket. He was raised Christian, Pentecostal specifically, but abandoned religion long ago. He teetered back and forth between agnosticism and atheism, occasionally returning back to religion when his luck in life was low.

"God?", he spoke aloud to the void. No response.

"Satan?", he said aloud. No response.

Perhaps reincarnation was the truth, and this darkness was just his mother's womb.

"...mother?", he asked. No response.

Like yanking off a blanket, the darkness disappeared, only to be replaced by a blinding white light.

Steven blinked repeatedly, like Paul blinded by the light. When his vision finally came to, he found himself looking at an expansive mural. Within the mural was almost a story, told in images instead of words. A shooting star, emerging from the void. A giant serpent. Architecture which seemed to defy logic. A lion. It continued, but Steven lost interest when he suddenly came to the realization that there were people in the room.

The room, which would be more aptly described as a throne hall, was massive in size and scope. The floor was gold, with oyster white pillars erected every fifteen feet or so on both sides. Men, guards, Steven assumed, were lined across on both sides like the pillars, stoic and unmoved. They donned charcoal steel plated armor, and held in their arms mechanical rifles which seemed to hum. Their helmets arched up on each side, the shape of which was like a wing. The only opening in their helmet was a small window which ran across their eyes. On their backs were strapped silver katannas, the handles adorned in red leather with strange engravings. In the center of the chest piece was an insignia of a lion with horns like a ram, three swords above his head like a crown.

Across the room sat a large, translucent crystal throne, a girl seated in it. Her towheaded hair stretched almost down to the floor, and atop her head was a golden helmet with wings on each side, much like that of the guards. Her skin was pale, and her cheeks flushed and ruddy. At her feet sat an enormous lynx, ram like brown horns spiraling from his head and two, gigantic white wings from his back. The girl looked at Steven, her eyes of dusky complexion and in them a ruthlessness, but also desperation.

"Oh great hero", she spoke, her voice like silk. "The galaxy is in great peril, and our people face annihilation. Will you help us?"

Steven looked at the girl, and the room, his mouth agape. He looked down at his stomach, and realized he was bleeding even more, then fell back against the gold floor, unconscious.