I first saw Charlie in my youth. His wild demon eyes called out to me with a seductive stare that penetrated my soul, cracking the armor there. He sat at a table, stared out at me. Unblinking, he called me to kill, destroy anything, everything, beseeching me to rain down anarchy onto his enemies, now mine.
He called, but I did not come. He led, but I did not follow. Then the darkness swallowed him and I did not see him for a very long time.
When next I saw Charlie, he was screaming. His enemies had control of his body, but in spirit, he was somewhere else, far away and so isolated that they could not reach him. He spoke in riddles and parables to his disciples, who had by then become legion. But although they dabbled in him, they did not bond to him as his original followers had done. They admired him as much as they loathed themselves, but they did not act.
The last time I saw Charlie, he was not there. He was invisible inside the chaoticly insane. Finally though, he ruled the world, albeit in absentia.