The old cobblestone street was filled with tourists, people that simply lacked the ability to comprehend what was going about to happen. A melodramatic person might say that they were at the site of a battle between good and evil, between light and darkness. A battle in the war for humanity's soul. But I think we both know that the world is a bit more nuanced than that.
A cynical person might think that these battles are, to quote the bard, things of sound and fury, signifying nothing, but that's not quite right either. Yes, it is true that this skirmish, like many more before it, will have little to no impact on the day to day lives of the average person, but you don't dabble in metaphysics for short gains. You play the long game.
I tend to think of this sort of encounter as a play on the butterfly effect. One side wants to squash the butterfly before it can flap its wings. The other side simply wants the wings to flap without any interference. If you ask me, neither side has a clue what the consequences of their actions will be. Sometimes it seems like they oppose each other just to have something to do.
In the end, it doesn't matter much. I cast my lot centuries ago, and questions don't butter bread. I sense the lightning seconds before it strikes the statue. Before I have a chance to think about what I'm doing, I dive forward, tackling the small child looking up in awe at the display in the heavens. I'm rewarded with screams of terror, crushed ribs, and a punctured lung as the stone fist topples from the statue.
As I stagger to my feet, wheezily cursing the dark humor of the literalists, a woman approaches me, concern mingling with the tears of joy welling in her eyes. The child's mother. I wave her off, somehow convincing her that it's not as bad as it looks. Honestly, it's not. A few more days and I'll be right as rain. The old ways are strong here.
Back at the hotel I'm none too surprised to find an envelope on the bed. Plane tickets. Next stop, Arizona.
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