An industrial city. The dead of night obfuscates all. Towers of metal and glass. A great power plant standing above all, ominous in the greens and blues crowning its peak. But it’s not here where our eyes are left to linger. Instead, it is the movement towards a seeming dark alley, away from the skyscrapers, to old brick and mortar. Yet, as we turn into the deep, we realize it isn’t quite as dark as we’d assume.
We Built This World by Fuzzeke.
A fight, athletic in build, clocked in black, slowly walks the length of the alley, the glimmer of gold and platinum to all sides. Championships. Tournament victories. Hall of Fame acknowledgements. The standard of his time. The bounty in which so many challenged to claim. Gone, but never forgotten.
Behind him, the twinkling glimmer of small beads cascades.
We see, within each individual one, a figure.
Little materia balls, lingering behind the figure as he throws back his hood, the long platinum locks indelible.
And as he turns to face us all at the end of this alley, darkness.
Then, the voice of the one who resurrected PRIME from the ashes.
Lindsay Troy: And so…it continues.
INSERT DISC THREE TO CONTINUE THE ALMASY INVITATIONAL