Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)The picturesque small town was glowing with sunlight on the Saturday afternoon, and every stereotype of a beautiful day seemed to be working together. The birds were chirping to another from tree to tree, the warmth from the sun inviting the children of the suburbs to come out and play, and down the middle of the street a newer model Toyota Corolla was driving through the streets. It was not a flashy car, but the silver colour of the vehicle seemed to shine especially bright today. Meanwhile, inside, the driver was looking around at the perfect day and he uttered a curse under his breath.
He hated it all, the warmth, the friendliness, the scenery, the neighbours joking and laughing with each other... it was the perfect place for families to live. But he was a working man, and he was forced to come through this town on the way back to the concrete jungle he loved. He missed his gray city, he already was looking forwards to the anonymity and the tall buildings around him. He missed the familiar neverending hum of traffic, the clatter of a nearby subway, or the occasional siren going through the streets. These suburbs were far too quiet for him, and he looked forwards to getting back to his city.
The man in the seat of the Corolla's name was Michael Scott, but he had not used that name for as long as he could remember. Since he had been a teenager, to anybody who had come to know him, he was Nova. Nothing more, nothing less, no other names or identities... but the single word, Nova. He had a short black haircut, with a lifted front and a short trim upon the sides and back. He was clean-shaved, and his white shirt was well-pressed. To accompany the clean and wrinkle-free shirt was a pressed pair of black pants, he looked like somebody who spent their days working in an office- and there was nothing distinguishable about him to tell a person otherwise.
His blue eyes inspected the streets, until he noticed a gas station. Checking the amount within his tank he unfortunately knew he didn't have enough fuel to make it back home without stopping somewhere. A few seconds later the familiar sound of a car alarm chirp went off, and he was walking into the general store to pay for his gas and pick up a quick snack. It was another ordinary day in his life, another long day of work, another client satisfied, and another boring day at home. It had been far, far too long since he had dared divulge into the instinctual urges that pulled and worked the strings within his mind. And he thought it would be a long time until he did once again, though on this beautiful day in the suburbia he hated he would soon find himself wrong.
He hated it all, the warmth, the friendliness, the scenery, the neighbours joking and laughing with each other... it was the perfect place for families to live. But he was a working man, and he was forced to come through this town on the way back to the concrete jungle he loved. He missed his gray city, he already was looking forwards to the anonymity and the tall buildings around him. He missed the familiar neverending hum of traffic, the clatter of a nearby subway, or the occasional siren going through the streets. These suburbs were far too quiet for him, and he looked forwards to getting back to his city.
The man in the seat of the Corolla's name was Michael Scott, but he had not used that name for as long as he could remember. Since he had been a teenager, to anybody who had come to know him, he was Nova. Nothing more, nothing less, no other names or identities... but the single word, Nova. He had a short black haircut, with a lifted front and a short trim upon the sides and back. He was clean-shaved, and his white shirt was well-pressed. To accompany the clean and wrinkle-free shirt was a pressed pair of black pants, he looked like somebody who spent their days working in an office- and there was nothing distinguishable about him to tell a person otherwise.
His blue eyes inspected the streets, until he noticed a gas station. Checking the amount within his tank he unfortunately knew he didn't have enough fuel to make it back home without stopping somewhere. A few seconds later the familiar sound of a car alarm chirp went off, and he was walking into the general store to pay for his gas and pick up a quick snack. It was another ordinary day in his life, another long day of work, another client satisfied, and another boring day at home. It had been far, far too long since he had dared divulge into the instinctual urges that pulled and worked the strings within his mind. And he thought it would be a long time until he did once again, though on this beautiful day in the suburbia he hated he would soon find himself wrong.
