Rage filled Azarian as he looked out upon the world from 32nd floor of his apartment. He had wished that he could reach out and grab the sun and pull it to the closer to the Earth. He could almost hear the screams of people shouting as they burst into flame. Like a child he made sound effects as he fantasized about the mass hysteria, the confusion, and the destruction.
Azarian had always been a determined man. From an impoverished youth he had quite literally turned rags into riches by creating a synthetic material that cleaned like nothing else.