Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, the characters, world and general storyline are property of Claudio Sanchez of Coheed and Cambria.
Coheed and Cambria is a concept band. Their songs detail an epic science fiction story. This fanfiction is an interpretation of the story contained in their songs and comics, it isn't a fanfiction about the band, and thus does not violate any of TOS.

God created the planets. He formed them out of nothing and set them silently spirally in space. He then created the Stars of Sirius, and the Keywork was formed. The Stars would hold he planets still, and keep them safe from the hazards of space. God called this Heaven's Fence. God knew that he could not stay on his Fence forever, so he created three races to watch over his work. He created the Prise and gave them the task of looking over the mechanics of his Keywork. He created the Mages and appointed them the masters of the other races, they were to ensure that God's will was done. Then he created the Humans, and upon them he bestowed the ability to live safely and prosper in the glory of God's creation.

But God left them to their own devices with nothing but a prophecy that spoke, "If Man should decide to dabble in my affairs, then Guardian must intervene. But should I decide to bring my change across the face of man with you there to challenge me, then I shall return with the fires if Sirius to destroy all I have made. Whether man or I present that danger will not be told until the coming."

Even in the beginning the coming was close at hand.

The air inside the factory was thick and stuck to the throats of the workers. Most of the men were young, it was incredible how quickly the monotonous labor broke them. They came into the place with vibrant souls and flashing eyes. Their eyes would grow dimmed and glassy before the month was over. The older man fared little better. They, unlike their young counterparts didn't have dreams to crash and kill. Their lives rotated for more mundane ambitious, usually the support and care of their families.

Coheed Kilgannon fell into the latter group. He had first come to the factory nearly twenty years ago, dazed, confused and desperate for a job. While it wasn't unusual for young men to knock on the factory doors in such a state pleading for employment Coheed had always stuck out in the manager's mind as a special case. Coheed barely seemed to remember his own name, and the manager had a sneaking suspicion that Kilgannon was just a name he made up on the spot. Still, he seemed earnest enough (was in fabulous physical condition to boot) and his drug tests came back clean. He earned himself a place in the factory, and years later, still held it. Like most of the older men, he managed to survive by working for things other than himself. The thing that kept him going through the long days was his family.

He chopped up his days and swallowed them like pills. Being a man who liked to think in the present he vary rarely let his mind wander to his foggy early days, or upon the depressing proposition that he would be spending the rest of his working days inside of a stuffy factory. Today had been rougher than normal for a plethora of reasons. It was Labor day (and one of those obnoxiously beautiful September days). True enough, overtime meant overtime pay, but there was something inexplicably depressing about working with the knowledge that one should be enjoying the last days of summer with one's family. That was enough to gloss his mood darkly, but the thing that truly wriggled into his side and stuck was the fact that he and his oldest daughter had been fighting.

Fighting perhaps wasn't strong enough of a word. Coheed and his oldest daughter had been conducting their own private war. Josephine had always been a willful girl. Her 22 years had been marked with a series of increasingly fervent arguments with her father. Coheed had the sneaking suspicion that this time something serious was going to come of their fights. After several hours of screaming, "I love him!" and "He's a bloody bastard!" she had stormed out of their house. Nobody had heard from her since. Coheed wasn't exactly worried, she was an adult, and he was nearly certain that she had gone to the New Jersey colony to visit her no-good boyfriend.

Only, he wasn't her boyfriend anymore. He was her fiancée.

As Coheed pulled himself through his daily motions he couldn't help but wish that some horrible accident would befall Patrick, or at the very least that Josephine and he would get into some sort of argument and call off the engagement. Coheed couldn't imagine anything worse than having to call that low-life son. He resolved that he would talk to his wife about the whole thing. Cambria had always been close to Josephine, and perhaps she could take some sense into their daughter. That's what he would do. He would talk to Cambria and have her deal with it.

Much to his surprise, as this conclusion was reached, the closing bell rang. While the sound was horrible, hallow and miserable much like most of the factories workers, it signaled the end of the shift. Coheed wearily gathered his belongings and prepared for the trek back home. His car had chosen that morning to give up the ghost, and although the factory wasn't far from where he worked, it was another thing to dampen Coheed's day. The sun had already begun to set, and a surprising chill had fallen over the streets of the city. The streets were oddly quiet. With all of the political mess that had been happening, this wasn't entirely surprising. The police were out in full force and ready to arrest anybody with even the slightest code violation. Most people just kept their heads down and went outside as infrequently as possible (damned car). Still, it was strange to see the normally crowded streets nearly empty.

Coheed suddenly became uneasy. He couldn't exactly explain what he felt. It wasn't like Valley Hills was a bad area. Its name was rather ironic, as being the industrial center of the planet, looming factories and highways had replaced most of the valleys and hills. And while it was true that everybody was on edge, he knew that he hadn't done anything wrong. He was a good, honest blue-collar worker returning home to his family after a long day at work. He found it strange that just as these words crossed his mind, the empty void that was his early memory popped into his head. Most people knew who their parents were. Most people knew what happened to them during the throws of puberty. Most people could remember where they met their wife and why they suddenly appeared in a city.

Then, as if cued by his thoughts, a single black car slowly snaked down the road. Coheed recognized the car as one of the Red Army's cruisers. Wanting no trouble he politely adverted his eyes from the driver and increased his pace. Then he heard the siren. He looked around, hoping vainly that he wasn't the only one on the street (He had done nothing wrong!) but saw that his hopes were in vain. The door of the cruiser opened and from within a huge man unfolded himself. In a cold voice he said, "Coheed Kilgannon. The Red Army has received a warrant for your arrest. Put your hands up."