At first there were three.

Charm will get you far in life.

It is by this motto that Ezra lives his life. Charm and class, hand in hand to paint an elegant picture that has many dropping their guard without thinking twice.

Beautiful yet cruel by design, he is a brightly coloured flower, poisonous and enticing. To the average person, he is friendly, cheerful, knowledgeable. To the average person, he is merely an interesting character amidst a sea of many other people. A single bright flower in a vase of far uglier weeds.

To the unlucky, he shows his fangs. In an instant, the image of pristinely preserved elegance falls away to reveal the predator behind the mask. Ezra sinks his teeth into his victims and shreds them to pieces without mercy, thriving on bloodshed and carnage like a flower would water and well-fed soil.

Nature can only do what it was bred and raised to do, as cruel and vile as it may seem. Survival of the fittest is not just a turn of phrase. Surviving is a gift, restricted to those strong enough to fight and scratch and claw their way past the soil.

Who can hate nature’s golden child? He who has perfected the art of enticing beauty and deadly predation, is he who survives another day.

He who is caught amidst the deep waters of the pitcher plant or ensnared by the fly trap, is he who becomes just another nameless casualty in the circle of life and death.

One of Angel’s most commonly seen puppets has dark red eyes like garnets hidden behind round brown frames.

Those eyes dance with the carefully restrained flames of unpredictable violence, of bloodlust and the ingrained need to destroy and wreak havoc.

Despite being young and largely inexperienced, he's already garnered a fearsome reputation. Hushed whispers and a trail of carnage follow this crimson horror across system after system, but few who have encountered him have stayed alive long enough to share his name.

Mal.

Mal is said to be blessed with beauty and rage alike. His sharp teeth are designed to pierce skin easily, and he has the unique ability to steal and replace the code of other programs. His pointed ears are reminiscent of mischievous fae. There is something distinctly fox-like about him behind his childish charm.

Though he makes no attempt to conceal his nature, it would be easy to mistake him for a friend at first. His wardrobe is casual, his posture relaxed, his mannerisms designed to put people at ease. His voice does not suit the monster behind his mask—it is cordial, polite, soothing. Rarely does it raise in anger or frustration, keeping a playful lilt to it like it's all just a silly little game.

Perhaps it is only a game in his mind. He is only a child, albeit one said to be born of chaos and malice.

Still, he is every bit a wolf in sheep’s clothing as his master. Even the apex predator must grow from a baby to a fearsome creature.

Most dangerous is the puppet who believes itself to be a real boy.

Teens -> Adults

They’re a curious thing.

Blonde hair over pale skin like a soft halo. Golden eyes that flick over everything in the room, cataloging, questioning. Straight posture and spotless clothing.

They certainly fit their name well enough.

Angel.

Pure. Ethereal. Incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible, and untouchable.

A leader, first and foremost. Angel is a creature in control, commanding respect in everything they do. They demand attention the moment they walk into the room.

They are a planner, an executor. They are doing the research, finding all the possible paths and selecting the best one.

There is about them that makes them appear softer the longer you look at them. Kinder. Helpful, even. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, welcoming a lost member to the herd. A spider’s invisible web cast across the entrance to an inviting cavern.

A puppetmaster. They are pulling all of the hidden strings so delicately they're imperceptible. The art of the puppet, after all, is to appear natural. The one making the movements is to be hidden, forgotten. Always in the background, but never in sight.

All puppets require strings. They get into trouble without them—just look at Pinocchio.

Still, the puppetmaster must have an end goal. Perhaps to make you laugh. To entertain. To tell a story, or make a warning.

What happens when you finally get a peek behind the curtain?

This man has many names. Some call him the Record Keeper. Others, the Man of Many Lifetimes.

He would call himself Maximilian. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Chances are, you will find him with a book in hand, if you find him at all. He will be tucked away in a corner, brown hair falling over his face, professional clothing looking pristine as if he fears being seen in any lesser state, with a story in his lap, regardless of activity around him, regardless of time of day.

Some people eat food, others drink water. He consumes words and little else.

Still, beneath the bookworm is a terrified child. Born of the human desire for connection, it should come of no surprise that this man strives to be whatever is needed of him, willingly or not. Personality wipes away with little effort like an eraser across a whiteboard, replaced by the next unspoken request until he finds yet another. A baseline undertones everything he does, of course—how strange would it be, to exist only as a mirror? Of course he is his own person.

But what is it that makes you, you?

Perhaps what he is looking for in those books is an answer.

All in all, Maximilian is a simple man of simple desires.

What cruel fate that this piteous creature was chosen as our protagonist.