hyperconsequence/Crow the Stones

Eight thousand, six hundred and twenty three miles away (and several hours time difference), fate sat in a small diner nursing a pitch black coffee. It had been a long long day, and even though as an immortal, days having so little meaning, it had been a long long day.

He flipped open his notebook, dog-eared and coffee stained, and scratched off another name on the list.

“Faria Ultimati” he mouthed silently. What a name. Italian perhaps? Sounds like the secret identity of a super hero, fate considered his next task.