Chapter Text
Heralded by explosions,
They arrive.
Masked and cheering,
Weapons held above their heads.
Triumphant,
Before the battle has even begun.
This is what it is
To be a Fake.
Trailing diamonds,
He arrives.
His enemies swear,
His blood must be,
Golden ichor;
If only they could see him bleed.
With a wild cry and a wicked smile,
He announces his presence
And with it, his victory.
This is what it is to be,
Gavin Free.
With fire in his eyes,
He arrives.
He brings the explosions,
And the danger.
His enemies vow,
They have heard a bear’s roar,
After his fires have faded.
He does nothing to quiet
These rumors.
You will find him standing
Guard at the shoulders of
His team.
This is what it is to be,
Michael Jones.
Silent and unannounced,
He arrives.
“He is a ghost,”
His enemies cry.
For they will never know he is there
Until he is long gone.
Unless he wants you to know,
This is when you must be careful.
For his presence is not without
Its own dangers.
This is what it is to be,
Jeremy Dooley.
With precision from afar,
He arrives.
It is only once you are dead,
That you even knew he
Was standing by.
Waiting above and providing cover,
To his team down below.
His enemies cower in fear,
At each exclamation of “YOLO”
A promise that their “once”,
Is now over.
This is what it is to be,
Ray Narvaez Jr.
Carried on whispered rumors,
He arrives.
His enemies are afraid to speak of him,
Because they believe he will be summoned
By the sound of his name.
He is a mystery,
Known only by those closest to him.
He is a tiger on a leash,
Pull too hard,
And it is you he will devour.
This is what it is to be,
Ryan Haywood.
Protection incomparable,
He arrives.
Prepared to fight and die
For those he has chosen.
Constantly underestimated,
He is as much a part of this world
As the others.
His enemies listen
For chopper blades and engine revs.
The blatant mark of
“The Transport”.
Who always gets his team
Out safe.
This is what it is to be,
Jack Pattillo.
Plans and commands spilling from his mind,
He arrives.
He built this team,
Of the reckless, the hungry,
The alone, the afraid.
He rules this city.
From its dark, rank underbelly,
Swarming with the powerless,
To its ivory towers,
Teeming with the corrupt and blood thirsty.
There is nothing in this city,
That he does not know,
Does not control,
Does not prepare for.
His enemies cannot imagine
The weight on his shoulders.
And yet, he does not falter.
He does not let them see,
What only his team knows.
This is what it is to be,
Geoff Ramsey.
Guided by a leader,
Who has hidden himself
Behind ink-drawn masks.
Protected by a man
Underestimated, at
Their enemies’ peril.
Befriended by the man
Who trades in secrets
And murder.
Watched from a distance
By the sharp shooter
With a pink sniper rifle.
Delivered info by
The short and silent
Ever present danger.
Leaving a trail of destruction in their wake
A gift from the loud and angry boy
That no one was willing to hear.
Gilded in gold
By the boi who sees in each of them
Gem stones of the purest quality.
Their enemies have nothing to say.
For those who rise against them
Do not stand for long.
This is what it is,
To be a Fake.