Third Person POV

The sun sparkled across the San Francisco tarmac, its bright rays no match for the glitterThird Person POV

The sun sparkled across the San Francisco tarmac, its bright rays no match for the glittering silver Dassault Falcon 10X that touched down with almost no noise. Engines still murmuring, the jet came to a slow halt at a private runway, away from the bickering that accompanied cheap commercial flights.

A single set of stairs was rolled out with a mechanical buzz. A polished Chelsea boot hit the top stair first.

Brad Wesley emerged afterwards, shining and descending like a god of war, born of fire and thunder. He...