Jackson Cade sits at a table, a book laid out in front of him.

“You know, I used to think this page was a work of art the first time I read it. It’s the Officer’s Handbook, page one.”

He points down.

Remember: You are the protectors of Arcadia, the last line of defense. Apprehend the depraved, bring them before the Judge, let the Jury decide their fate.

You are not an Executioner.

“I believed it, wholeheartedly. I let these few words shape who I was, who I wanted to be. They say that true art is transformative, and for years this book was my creed. Its ink ran through my veins, its words etched onto my heart. It was my obsession.”

He chuckles, bitterly.

“Yet, imagine my surprise when the words I worshipped were challenged by art of a different kind. Imagine my surprise when my precious book didn’t have an answer for my questions. The new art in front of me, it made me feel a way that I would only call grotesque.”

Cade sneers, grabbing a marker.

“Blood pouring down the canvas, tears flowing down my face. I could do nothing but sit back as the deranged artist created new works of horror beyond my comprehension! Every last one tearing into my soul and plucking out bits of my humanity piece by piece.”

He angrily slashes out a line with the marker.

“Yet, my book had no answers. I… Forgot why I ever loved it to begin with.”

Another slash with the marker.

“Jasper, your art transformed me. It drained the ink from the veins, ripped my heart from my chest and threw it on the ground. From the very moment that you reached into my chest, when you wrapped your blood covered hands around his neck, and you took him from me. You saw the last fleeting remnants of hope, and you snuffed them out.”

Another slash with the marker.

“Your final art piece, Jasper. It broke me. And the cherry on top? I couldn’t even touch you afterwards. I was hopeless… But Felix enlightened me. Last week I learned that art itself can be changed as much as it changes you. You can challenge it with your own thoughts, your own beliefs. We challenged the contract and left both of you on the mat.”

One last slash.

“So, I decided I can create art too, Jasper. And I’m starting with a blackout poem. It’s when you take a piece of writing, black out lines, and in doing so, you change its meaning. I figure, if I want it to be transformative, I may as well start with the creed that created me.”

Cade picks up the book with a smirk.

Remember: You are ██████████████████████████████████████████████████ Judge, ██████ Jury ████████

████████ Executioner.

“At Invasion, I’m going to take you down,  Jasper. I’m going to inflict on you all the pain, agony, and hate your art has inflicted on me.”

“And I’m going to do it by the book.”

He slams the book shut.

Cut.