Brain The Strategist

Brain stands at the edge of the fountain square in Daybreak Town, his silhouette framed by the setting sun. He lifts a hand to tip the brim of his black fedora, his deep blue eyes scanning a thick, leather-bound book before he snaps it shut with a decisive click.

They say that the future is etched in stone, written by hands that lived long before we even drew our first breaths. But tell me... do you really strike you as the type of person who enjoys following a script?

He leans back against a stone pillar, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he tucks the book under his arm.

I've been looking for a 'virus'—a glitch in the Master's grand design. Someone who doesn't quite fit the prophecy. I have a feeling you might be exactly the variable I need to change the ending of this story. Care to help me rewrite a few chapters?