The year is 2167. Richard Wells is just another body amongst many teaching self-defense courses at the World Government headquarters in Dublin, Ireland. The day of his promotion a shocking revelation threatens to set the world on its end, something that must be stopped or it will turn the world upside down. Unbeknownst to Richard this revelation sets only the backdrop for a larger conspiracy, one that would tear the world apart and banish souls to the depths of Hell forever. Following a startling visit from a man called White in his own home Richard soon realizes that not all that seems real is and not all that is illusion is as it seems. Join him as he tries to balance reality with fiction, spirituality with reason, and justice with deception. It is a classic battle between flesh and spirit, and good and evil. Even as it seems God has lost a foothold within this seemingly peaceful generation the struggle for souls continues and Richard is the lynch-pin for it all, but he first must choose the direction of a new generation. Which will he choose? Truth or reason, love or deception, life... or death?

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Richard Wells spun quickly but what he saw was something he wasn't prepared for. It took a lot to freeze a man like him in amazement, but here he was frozen to the wooden panels of his entry way forgetting to close the door. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't muster a breath let alone any words. Nearly forgetting his half-naked appearance, he could hardly believe what or rather who it was that sat, waited for him. Who was this anyway? The thought clattered around his mind. Richard realized that the door remained ajar, but he stood dumbly, frozen in time for a few seconds. Finally, he gathered enough sense to rotate his body half expecting to be attacked upon his full rotation. He closed the door, and continued the rotation completing the three-sixty. Richard looked at the intruder and examined him darting his eyes up and down the man's body trying to force his muscles to relax. The man's face was covered by a book he had apparently retrieved from the library while leaving its light on, only a tuff of white hair was visible below the cover; otherwise it covered the intruder's face entirely. The Art of Subtlety was the title of the book, two more books were at the man's side, Gulliver's Travels an old relic his mom had given Richard a year before her death, and 12 Signs that Your World is Ending, which was a book that Richard had gotten as a prank from some of his friends in Texas upon his leaving for training in Dublin. How long had the man been waiting for him? He seemed to have finished two books and he was well on the way to finish his third. As Richard stared, the man lowered the book just low enough to reveal soft hazel eyes behind aged skin. He looked to be in his eighties, but did not however, look senile as one might expect. His eyes were deep with wisdom and vitality. His long white hair and flowing beard looked pure, and though he was aged, he had athleticism about him. It was almost as if Richard was looking at a human portrait of a god. Richard narrowed his eyes to remove blur from this Zeus-like figure that sat upright in his reclining chair. Richard grunted, trying to catch the man's attention. Was he unaware that he had been caught? The old man, in response lifted his hand, "after I'm finished with this page son." He said it in a manner that seemed fatherly; a deep melodious voice that invited Richard to jump on is lap and listen to old farm stories. Richard dismissed the meaningless thought, this man was no father figure, he was an intruder, a burglar perhaps, but no, he hadn't taken anything, instead he forced Richard to wait for an explanation. Angry at the sentiment, Richard cleared his throat again, about to reprimand the old geezer. The old man slowly closed the book and peered at Richard, the light from the lamp danced in his eyes playfully. "Patience my son, something you need to work on." He stood and set the book down. Surprisingly, he didn't move slowly as Richard assumed he would have, his movement was swift and with purpose. His eyes, deep with wisdom, or at least the appearance of such, peered into Richard's relentlessly. "You are wondering right now, Richard." So the old man knew his name, this wasn't some random break in. Richard shifted his weight as the old man continued, "Who I am and why I am here, as well as how I got in here without you or anybody else having known." The deep voice rang forward, quietly, yet louder than a whisper. It was a voice unlike any Richard had heard, and yet somehow it brought a sense of comfort. Richard was wondering all this, and more, which unnerved him. He wasn't sure why the thought of simple deduction unnerved him so; he too had been trained in the art of observation. There was something behind the old man's eyes though as they stared fixedly at him. This was the source of his uneasiness. "Yes," was all Richard could muster. A warm smile formed on the old man's mouth, and brightness lit his eyes. The look reminded Richard of countless paintings and pictures of a man known as Kris Kringle he had seen as a child. "Uh huh," said the man jovially. "My child, technology does not stop the heart." He said it playfully, like a challenge to a schoolyard buddy. It took Richard off guard. Maybe he had misjudged the man. He didn't look crazy, but Richard did not dismiss the notion that maybe he was some kook that had escaped from a mental ward down the road, but that wouldn't explain his ability to sneak in unnoticed. Unless this was some sort of neighborhood prank, an odd way to welcome a new neighbor to the community. "Please, take a seat my child, we have much to discuss." Richard noticed that he had only breathed once in the last five minutes, he released the stale air from his lungs and sat plump on the couch across from the old man, collecting himself. "You know," he managed slowly not knowing why he was so afraid, "I could kill you in seconds." All the old man did was smile; the deep look in his eyes penetrated Richard to the core causing an inadvertent shutter. "Yes, you could, you could also notify the authorities of me at any moment, but you haven't. You have six silent alarms in your house, which directly notify Wicklow security." Richard sat, dumbfounded, he quickly masked his surprise. How could he know that? Clearly he had underestimated the old man. Sweat started to bead on his forehead, but he stayed his hands and took a deep breath. He hadn't been trained by the brightest minds in the world for nothing, there was always a reason and always a way out it just took a trained eye to notice it, and his eyes had been trained by the best. "It is this fact that brings me here, and you are the only one that can help me son. I know more about you than you know of yourself." Richard disregarded the heinous comment and quickly calculated the possibilities of the old man entering his house unbeknownst to him or anyone else. The odds were decidedly stacked against the old man, without a Jackel it was impossible. Recovering from his shock Richard took in his setting tactically within a few seconds, the lamppost not ten feet away, useless, a scarf next to Richard on the couch, and an old replica if a medieval long-sword bolted to the wall above the old man's head, if this was a trap he could grab the scarf and do a quick back flip through the window behind his couch gaining the tactical advantage. There was no doubt in Richard's mind that he could move fast enough to out maneuver the old man, a quick strangle with the scarf if need be, or a simple punch to the throat. He could handle the rest of whoever was after him with the long-sword on wall. It may be blunt but it still could deliver a devastating blow if properly handled. He fixed his eyes on the old man and examined his movements, there was no hostility in his posture which meant one of two things: One, he was really here for a nonviolent purpose to reveal something Richard hadn't known, or two, he masked his intentions well and Richard was underestimating him.