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Kazeo smiled. He didn't look like a conqueror. He looked like a man who had just jumped off a cliff and learned he could fly.
Kazeo tightened the strap of his duffel bag. He was lean, sharp-featured, and looked entirely out of place among the chrome-obsessed youth. He didn't want "Standard." He wanted the ghost. coloso kazeo coloso free
Kazeo’s eyes snapped open. They weren't brown anymore. They were glowing with the silver of a lightning strike. Kazeo smiled
"Maybe that's what I need," Kazeo replied. He sat in the chair, the leather cold against his back. "Initiate link." Kazeo tightened the strap of his duffel bag
Suddenly, the wind didn't tear him apart; it became him. Kazeo screamed as his avatar shattered, reassembling into something terrifying. He wasn't a pilot anymore. He was the storm. He looked at his hands—they were made of swirling data-streams, electricity arcing between his fingers. He felt infinite.