Miguel had been so determined! His mind had been unshakeably certain about this mission, so much so that he could have sworn nothing in the entire world would have saved Storm from his wrath on this day, even if God himself were to come down from heaven.
Not until that door violently swung open. In a heartbeat, everything, all the hard and solid resolve that rocked up Miguel's zeal, spirit, and jaws, drastically melted down.
God had not only intervened and stopped him, but He had also sent him his newly found dose of obsession and weakness: this "Rot Mouth."
As Miguel observed the overly exaggerated tone and dramatics of Fedora's yapping, the question he couldn't help but silently ask the universe was: Why?
Why was this boy Storm's son? Why was he everywhere he shouldn't be seen?, Why here, why now?.
