Star Harbor Nights

With so much going on in and around the present day, to turn our attention back now to the timeless age at the dawn of Creation would seem distracting at the very least, if not somewhat... anticlimactic.

So instead of turning our gaze back, we shall instead look ahead to the coming storm which looms somewhere over northern California. The pieces on both sides of the chess board have been positioned and maneuvered with expert precision, manipulated by hands both seen and unseen, moved relentlessly towards the now inevitable end game scenario.

Through it all, we have barely even glimpsed the man behind everything. What then, can we say about Geppetto, the man who pulls the strings?

Contrary to popular opinion and the music of the nineteen eighties, not everybody wants to rule the world. Even among the self-described villains, there are many who are merely content with as much power and comfort as can readily be attained. Some, like the wicked Webmistress, are of the opinion that when one has enough power and influence to know anything one desires to know and possess anything one desires to possess, it's the same as ruling the world... but without all the bother of actually ruling it.

The man called Geppetto, the ultimate puppet master, does not share this opinion. What can we say about him? The word "fascist" gets bandied around quite a bit these days, but he is a Fascist of the old breed, a believer in strength through unity... unity of purpose, and especially unity of mind. The Italy of today bears little resemblance to the beloved nation of his youth, and so he styles himself a citizen of the world. Fascism sprang from nationalism married to dreams of empire... Signore Geppetto has had decades of frustration during which his dreams have only grown, and no nation's borders to contain his ambitions.

We could hardly expect a man of this sort to be content with any less than the world.

So what can be said of his opposite number and the object of his machinations, Allison Powers... and the impromptu band of heroes with which she has surrounded herself?

Perhaps much... but the time for talking is nearly at an end. The storm is about to break, and this oft-meandering tale nears a point of climax. It is at times like this that I most feel like indulging my own penchant for the dramatic. However, in this case, I believe I shall content myself to sit back and watch the events speak for themselves. After all, even a storyteller like myself must admit that actions do speak louder than words, and there comes a certain point where ominious proclamations add very little to the proceedings.

Still, I suppose even "very little" is still more than nothing... and it will likely be some time before the next... oh, hell.

Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!