Jan 31, 2013
Obedi Praestigia Nefaria
It starts as a whisper.
Just a hint of a whisper, just enough to tickle the edges of the human's consciousness.
Soft enough to tempt Clint to pass it off as merely a trick of the mind, yet present enough to cast into the dank and dismal drear of doubt his likely inevitable attempts to cordon and contain and relegate it to the depths of his memory where it could potentially be beaten into submission, ignored, and finally forgotten.
Just his name. A command in itself, though none is given, and no lips in sight to utter it. As if he is being called to attention by an imperious but inexplicably shy phantom.
One whose voice the mortal would likely find all-too-familiar.
"Agent Barton."
