You’ve probably heard this corny trope — “there is an emptiness behind his masks.” Ridiculous drama by authors with an identity crisis. In reality, living through various lives is a gift, not a curse.
I’ve walked under many names. There’s no void behind my names — each is a complete self, with its own logic, its own pulse. Each one is me, distilled for the role. They think roles hide the truth. Wrong. It’s multiplication.
Why settle for one narrow routine, when you can live a dozen lives, each sharp and vivid?
Joslyn – Flight Attendant
“The air belongs to those who know how to move through it.”
She’s the embodiment of poised elegance, a stewardess whose charm isn’t just for show. Aveline slips into places where access is sealed tight. Her soft voice and perfect uniform aren’t distractions — they’re calibrated tools.
Beretta — Defense Ministry Deputy
“Power wears a uniform.”
Beretta steps into rooms where the weight of authority decides everything. Draped in a pristine military uniform, she moves like an officer among officers. Her rank is a fabrication, but her confidence makes it real.
Maddox — Vision
“The wild card with a wicked grin.”
Maddox thrives in chaos, dressed like someone who plays by no one’s rules. The one you meet when the job calls for unpredictability — a storm you can’t harness, only ride with. She shows up and disappears before you recover your breath.
Zara — Therapist
“Your mind is an open book. All I need is the right page.”
She listens, she turns cracks in someone’s mind into doors to step through. A calm presence that feels like trust, but leaves you wondering what piece of yourself you’ve just handed over.
Callista — Fighter
“Strength means nothing if your focus wavers for a second.”
A silhouette of precision and danger. Every motion is measured, every glance a challenge. She’s the storm hiding in perfect stillness.
Lisbeth — Cyber-biologist
“Every code has a pulse. You just need to know where to touch it.”
Brains and heat in one frame. She speaks in codes of cells and circuits. Her curiosity disarms you first — the rest is just biology.
Red Fury — Infiltrator
“A face of firing rage, stripped of subtlety.“
When patience runs dry — no more diversions, no more whispers. Wrapped in crimson, so the blood stains would never show, she moves like a storm that no one could reason with.
They’re all me. Not fragments — facets. Life keeps asking which one is the real me, but there is no answer, and there will never be. Reality is just whatever I decide to wear today.