» Tue Jul 26, 2011 8:37 am Prologue
"It's January 7th, the year is 1943. I am currently in Room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel in New York as you'll know if this is found. The gloves have been hidden, but the men after me are more than likely expecting that. It would be unbelievably foolish of them to think I would go out without a fight. I do not expect to survive the night, for the people who are bound to break down the door later are ruthless, sick men. My name is Nikola Tesla, and to whoever finds this (I truly hope it is friend and not a foe), I have a son, I am not celibate, and only Alaksandar will know the location of World Peace."
Nikola folded the piece of paper he wrote his message on, and slipped it in a space behind the wall molding. He let a tiny bit of the corner slip out, in hopes that someone with a keen eye would be able to find it, but his pursuers wouldn't see it. Just as he stood up straight, there was a knock on his door. The old scientist turned around, and hurried to the door. He looked out the fisheye glass peephole to see the very son he mentioned in his letter standing out the door. Nikola unlocked the door, and opened it.
"Alexander, you must leave. There are people who-" Nikola stopped mid sentence. He looked at this son's hands. Alexander had two thick leather gloves in his hands, both resembling falconry gloves. The back of the gloves each had large half-spheres with what looked like tiny lightning bolts bouncing around the glass. The son Alexander lifted his arm, and pressed his palm to his father chest. The palm of the gloves had a metal circle taking up the entire palm, with smaller metal bits on the fingers. Wires connected all of the metal.
"Alexander, you are my own flesh and blood." Nikola pleaded to his son. "Why must you do this?" His son said nothing, and the orb on the back of the gloves started to glow brighter. Nikola collapsed, and clenched his heart. He squirmed while Alexander removed the gloves, and walked to the room's closet. He shoved the leather gloves somewhere in the ceiling, and walked back to his dying father.
He knelt over him, and told his father the last words he'll ever hear, "Nikola Tesla. My father, What you have created is nothing short of a miracle. Wearing, and using those gloves is like walking on water; absolutely incredible. I wish I could tell you why I had to do this to you. But father, do not worry about the gloves falling into the wrong hands. The men after you are no longer men, but masses of dust created from the power of your creation. You and I are the last that know about them. Whoever finds the gloves next will use them for good. I can assure you that. The future is dark, father, and I know how you came across the power to produce those gloves. History cannot be altered like you intended it. I know you have very good, and pure intentions."
Nikola, with a sudden burst of energy, lashed out to his son, "Damn you, Alexander! With infinite resource comes no need for war! Those gloves create their own energy from nothing!"
"I'm aware!" Alexander fought back, "But believe me when I say that those gloves getting out to the public would cause nuclear holocaust faster than what we're already destined for. They will be found the year 2278. Long after the world ends."
"How do you, too, know what I know?" Nikola's last words were.
"Father, how do you know the future?"
335 Years Later, The Story Begins...
