A Lady By Day

    Lady Angeline fixed her eyes on the jeweled goblet in her hand with an empty stare. It was still full to the brim with the wine that was given to her by her servant. She sat alone at the head of her father's massive dining room table, which had been masterfully carved out of a rare mahogany and was quite the centerpiece for this room.

    She was dressed comfortably, but always in the latest fashion, her dark blue and black gown sparkled softly in the light of the setting sun, but with no guests and her parents gone, its design and low cut top seemed pointless with no one else there to notice it. Still, the last rays of the sun felt wonderful on her fair skin.

    She could tell right away that she was losing control. She knew that she no longer had the taste for wine, or the well prepared meal in front of her that had gone cold half an hour ago. Her real insatiable cravings, that were slowly consuming her every thought, simply would not go away, and could not be ignored.

    "Sevastien." She called out into the empty room.

    Within moments her servant entered the room and stood politely off to the side and fully at attention. He spoke softly, "Yes my lady?"

    She set the goblet down on the table in front of her. "A change of plans for tonight my dear. I think I will be going out." She smiled to herself eagerly at the thought. Sevastien had been her servant for many years. He knew what this meant.

    "Understood. Shall I arrange a coach for transportation?" Sevastien asked as she stood from her chair to face him.

    His calm demeanor was why he was her favorite. They had been living together for a long time. She knew she could trust him with anything. Though dressed meticulously in his servant attire, he had an unruly head of hair, graying slightly now after all these years, but never losing its brown sheen. He stood patiently waiting for her response as she looked him over. She could tell by his inability to look upon her that there was that gleam in her soft blue eyes again. That insatiable hunger. He shifted uncomfortably. She noticed, blinked several times as if to regain focus, then looked away.

    "No, thank you my dear." She finally replied, twisting a long and beautiful black lock of her hair around a slender finger. She could feel her growing excitement. She looked back at him over her shoulder playfully. "I think I'll walk."

    Lady Angeline lived in her father's enormous estate. Lord Raynold Solvari was his name. The Solvari family owned the second largest property in all the city, almost entirely because they were responsible for the largest exportation of uncut diamonds in the entire region. Though the Solvari's were known for their secrets and seclusion, with many members of their family leaving the estate as rarely as once a month, it was no secret that they loved all manners of art. The hallways throughout the entire estate were filled with elaborate paintings and priceless works of art. Statues of relatives and great historic heroes, paintings of great landscapes, and marvelous figurines cluttered the walls each competing for its own place within the estate.

    As she wove her way through the seemingly endless hallways and corridors, glancing here and there at some of her favorite pieces of art, Sevastien kept pace with her, quietly giving orders to other servants on how to tidy up the estate for the evening. She reached the great entrance hall. Her mother spent a great deal of money on this room's design. A twin set of marble staircases led down to the main floor in the shape of a large oval. In the center hung an enormous chandelier made of glass but with diamonds embedded into the outside of the frame. If one were to look upon it from afar, it would resemble a massive pear diamond in all of its sparkling splendor. It was a shame that her parents were away on business for the rest of the month. She loved going out with them when they were around.

    "I am afraid that I might not be back until morning." She reminded Sevastien as she began her decent down the marble stairs. "Should that be the case, have my bedchamber prepared, I might just sleep in 'til noon." she said chuckling to herself.

    "Of course my lady. Everything will be in order upon your return." Sevastien said reassuringly with a polite bow. Though Lady Angeline was far too wrapped up in her own mind to look his way.

    She stopped to admire her family's favorite painting while she grabbed her warm coat and headed for the front entrance. Doing this had grown to become one of her family's fondest customs. It was an immense painting beautifully framed and displayed for all to see as they exited through the estate's front door. The painting was of a man in his late fifties, her great-great grandfather, Antonious Solvari, standing in a dense redwood forest full of great hills and caverns in the dead of night. A forest that still surrounded their city to this day, with ancient trees some of which have been standing for thousands of years. In the picture, Antonious was surrounded by a pack of ferocious grey and black wolves. Wolves had all but fled these lands now. They had been disappearing steadily for as long as anyone could remember. People just assumed it was because of the constant expansions of a city being established so close to their old dens. However, back in her great-great grandfather's time, they roamed these lands in great packs. There seemed to be dozens of them illustrated in the painting in great detail before her. All of them snarling in the faint moonlight and closing in for the sure kill. However, the man depicted in the painting was far from afraid, in fact it would appear that it was quite the opposite. Antonious was not even looking at the wolves at all. Instead his eyes followed any person who chose to look upon him, no matter where they chose to view the painting, and he stared at those who gazed upon him with a knowing grin.

    She knew just where she was headed. Her hunger only increased as she made the long walk along the well paved cobblestone path. The guards at the front entrance to her estate greeted her with a simple "Madam," and a knowing nod as they opened the gates, flintlock rifles close at their sides.

    It seemed that the city was growing bigger every day. There was never a dull moment and people came pouring in from all around the countryside. Though she lived well on its outskirts, she often ventured in during nights likes these when she needed to get away. As she traversed the city streets, full of busy citizens and with city watchmen posted on every other block, she took in the changes in the atmosphere. She could taste the sweat of men headed home from a long day's work. Smell the prepared suppers of those waiting anxiously for their loved ones to arrive home safely. She was barely able to control herself. Her pupils dilated as the hunger began to take over and dominate her better judgement. Only through sheer willpower was she able to continue on, mentally calming her less civil sensibilities. Making her way to the more high-end establishments, she finally arrived at the place she desired. An older but very well-known and frequented tavern, The Black Dog. She walked inside with excitement clearly written across her face.

     She absolutely loved this tavern! It seemed the most intriguing people from every corner of the city gathered here to enjoy their evenings with good company. The tavern was dimly lit with ample seating for dining as well as a seated bar for ordering drinks. There were people playing cards and gambling away their hard earned fortunes and others keeping mostly to themselves. There was a large hearth in the back right corner and above it, mounted on a sturdy wooden pedestal, was an exquisite carving of a wild black dog. It was said that the tavern's original owner Mira was attacked by a monstrous bear while traveling on the roads to this very city, alone and nearly helpless, she considered fleeing her carriage and abandoning her goods until a black dog came barreling out of the forest to her rescue and barked viciously at the bear, staring it down with its wild brown eyes until the bear retreated. Afterwards the dog followed the carriage until she reached the city, guarding her from all that would do her harm and then disappeared back into the forest, never to be seen again. It was stories like that, so full of mystery and danger, that drew Angeline here instead of to other establishments.

   "Well look who decided to stumble on in! I thought I'd be long retired before you ever showed up here again Lady Angeline! Welcome, do grace us with your stunning presence." Dale the current tavern keeper said with a booming voice and a warm smile.

    All eyes turned on her and many stayed to admire her alluring beauty. She left her coat by the door and walked over to the bar as if she knew everyone was still watching.

    "Oh hush now Dale, I was only gone a few weeks! You still have many years left in you before you will have to retire!" She replied playfully, grinning with every syllable.

    "Retire from work or from this good green Earth?" He asked, and they both shared a laugh. "How is your dear mother doing?" He asked. He was an older man now, a big rotund fellow with a head full of gray hair and grayer whiskers coating his face.

    "Esmeralda is doing very well, I will be sure to tell her that you asked after her when she gets back." She glanced around and could tell that most of the other patrons went back to their business, a few eavesdroppers still listened in, but they talked openly anyway.

     "So what can I do ya for tonight my lady?" Dale asked casually, attempting to be formal with her again.

     "Oh...I am not quite sure what I am looking for just yet. How about you get me started with some of that mead I can't get enough of while I try and decide." She replied with a wink.

    "Of course my lady you just take as much time as you need, I'll set you up with some of my famous 'honey water'." He said, raising his eyebrows enthusiastically.

    As he left to fetch her drink she turned to watch some of the other patrons. She loved to watch people. She found it highly amusing to see how much she could learn about someone without ever speaking to them. As she sat there patiently, taking her mead in hand from Dale, she overheard several of the other patrons but none seemed to catch her interest. As her eyes explored the dimly lit tavern, she happened upon a reclusive man whom she just could not take her gaze off of. She watched him with great interest for a long time undisturbed. No one would here in this middle class tavern would dare approach a lady uninvited.

    He was well dressed. He sat by himself at a small table for two in a corner by one of the tavern's windows. He had a drink with him but he had not touched it in a while. When he was not peering out of the window, he was scribbling words down in a small journal he kept on his person. Most intriguing of all was that everyone else in here was dressed like a well off merchant or businessman, he was not. In fact everything about him was somehow...unusual. It was thrilling to Angeline, she had to know more. Was this the one she would pick tonight? She ground her teeth slowly at the thought, gripping her mug of mead until her knuckles turned white. The anticipation was almost too much to bare.

    He had short cropped brown hair with some facial scruff. The man had probably been working all day she thought from the length of his prickly beard. He seemed like he could have been a soldier or an off duty city guard. He was well built, but not stocky. He wore a brown leather jacket with a warm furry collar, probably to help shield against the chilled night air. He was well dressed and well kept, but unlike damn near everyone else in here, he was not trying to flaunt it. There was nothing lavish about him. He simply kept to himself. She could not wait any longer. She had to meet him. She turned to the tavern keeper.

    "Dale, I think I know what I will have tonight." She informed him standing from the bar. He gave a nod and a smile as he scratched at his beard and turned to take orders from other customers.

    Angeline walked coolly over to the man. He did not seem to notice her until she was nearly right beside him. He looked up with a curious expression, eyebrows furrowed as he was caught off guard. Yet he was careful that his eyes met her own and did not linger elsewhere. Oh, she knew she would like him already.

***

    "Are you waiting for someone?" Lady Angeline asked, motioning to the window.

    He followed her hand motion and took a little too long before he responded. No, I'm...I'm sorry I came here alone. Have I taken your usual table or something?" He asked hesitantly, taking a sip of his drink to avert his gaze.

"Not at all, I simply grew tired of the droll chatter at the bar and was looking for...better company." she flashed a disarming smile.

He coughed having almost choked on his drink. She took advantage of the moment and sat down without bothering to ask permission. Her dark dress gleaming in the soft light of the candle resting in the center of their quaint little table.

"I know this is forward of me. My name is Lady Angeline Sovari, my father owns the large estate not far from this place. I venture in here every so often, this is quite possibly my favorite establishment in the entire city!" He could tell that she was excited.

    "I have heard of you before my lady, I am most honored to have you share a table with me this evening, I am Vincent Cardwell, I was born and raised on the east side of the city, where the old watermills used to be, down by the docks." He explained.

"Ah, yes I have heard of it but have never been! The waterfront I believe they call it!"

"That's right my lady." He replied as he tucked away his book sitting closed on the table. It was clear that he would not be using it again for a while.

"And what is it you were doing just now if I may ask? What is it you were writing in there?" She pointed, reaching across the table seemingly unabashedly at the chest pocket where he had put away the book. He reflexively followed her hand motions again. He got a strong whiff of her faint perfume as she reached across the table. It took him a few heartbeats to regain focus. He blinked it off and recovered very well however.

"It's a...uh...journal I keep for my work."

"May I?" She turned her outstretched hand over so it was palm up and smiled innocently.

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry my lady, but my work requires that I don't ever lose this, or share its contents with anyone." He said almost reluctantly. He got another hint of her perfume in the air when she turned her wrist. Her perfume was intoxicating. It pulled at something almost primal inside of him.

"My apologies then, may I instead ask what it is that you do? She asked seeming rather unimpressed.

"I'm a...mercenary of sorts."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"Well...people hire me to do jobs for them. If I do them to their satisfaction I get paid a handsome fee for my efforts."

"What kind of jobs do mercenaries typically get hired for?" She asked cocking her head slightly to the side with intrigue.

"Oh, all sorts of things. The more dangerous the job, the more they pay you for it." He replied. He rested his elbow comfortably on his side of the table.

"Dangerous you say?" Her soft blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the light and he was already having a hard enough time not staring at her. She was beyond gorgeous. "So you must be quite brave to willingly take on jobs like those."

Was it just his imagination or was she toying with him? "Or foolish." He replied with a chuckle. He sipped more of his drink.

"And why were you staring out the window so intently earlier?"

He stared out the window again and seemed deep in thought. "The moon is particularly clear tonight, there doesn't seem to be a cloud in sight. I was just thinking that it's not every night that you get to enjoy such a brilliant full moon." He finally replied while pointing.

"I know exactly what you mean." She said softly. Her elbow now resting on her side of the table as she leaned in to gaze up at the pale moon high in the sky. Vincent tried to look at her but was lost in a great mountain of her cleavage, her body bathed in the moons pale light, he almost had to slap himself to regain focus and pull his eyes up to her face.

"Would you...go for a walk with me Vincent?" He noticed she was staring at him. "The moonlight is so perfect tonight, we could walk among the redwoods and not even need a lamp." She was still staring at him. No, she was focusing her gaze very intently upon his lips as she started biting the corner of her own full bottom lip. Was it that easy? Did he just say 'yes' and they got up and left together?

"Sure," He heard himself answer. "I could go for a walk."

They got up and left together soon after. The chill of the night air was quite welcoming to him from the heat of the previous moments.

"Have you ever seen the south side on nights like these? The view from the forest is absolutely breath taking!" She was getting excited again.

"After you then my lady. I have no doubt I'll get us lost if I take the lead."

She chuckled at him and led the way through the winding streets as they made their way southward. They made idle small talk nearly the entire way. He was a very good conversationalist when he was not distracted by her incredible beauty and could focus on the paths ahead. They talked about the city life and about her occasional pursuits for interesting people. She asked all about him and where he grew up as well. He replied that he did not think he was all that interesting. But clearly she thought that was not the case, for she had picked him out of everyone in the tavern tonight.

Her pace quickened as they approached the southernmost entrance to the great redwood forest.

"It's been too long since I have been able to walk among these trees. Oh, I have surely missed them." She remarked as she wandered her way through the forest and he followed along behind her. She would slow down and admire a particularly tall or misshapen tree here and there as they walked, glancing back around to smile at him as they traveled deeper and deeper into the dense forest.

"My great-great grandfather was one of the first to explore these forests." She continued. "There are hundreds of hills and caverns everywhere. It was not far from here that I am told he found his first diamond. Deep inside one of these caves."

She looked ethereal in the pale moonlight. Its soft glow dancing off her smooth skin and sparkling with every twist and turn of her dress. Every curve of her body. "You know," She began as she slowed to a stop near a small clearing in the forest. "You are the first stranger I have meet in almost thirteen years who knows what I am." She said coyly. She was smiling at him, a short distance away. The light filtered through the trees behind her casting her face in an eerie shadow, but her eyes seemed to glow faintly through the dark.

He dropped his relaxed composure instantly. "How long have you known?" He asked evenly. He took a step to the side, setting his feet wider apart. A fighter's stance.

"From the beginning of course." She chuckled playfully and tilted her head to the side to keep strands of her long hair from covering her gorgeous blue eyes. "I could read what you were scribbling down in your little book." She smiled. A gorgeous smile, seductive and yet sweetly innocent at the same time.

His heart seemed to miss a beat. She could see what he had written down? She must have been thirty paces away when he was writing in that tavern, and he had been writing by candle light!

"Not all of it of course, though...let's see. 'Over seventeen missing persons that I have been led to believe had last frequented The Black Dog tavern.', 'fifteenth day of no real suspects or meaningful leads, will have to investigate from inside the establishment.', 'Tavern keeper is still the prime suspect.'" She recited the notes he had written for himself perfectly. She saw the expression of disbelief he gave her and clapped in applause for him. "I admire you Vincent. You were very close to being right. And all of that in just a few short weeks? You must be quite the...mercenary."

This time when she smiled, it was all teeth. Gleaming white elongating teeth, her smile stretched grotesquely wide and her whole body seemed to shudder as she let out a soft groan. Her teeth were getting longer, growing into sharp fangs as her jaws cracked and extended to allow room for their new fangs. Vincent took a step back, the horrible truth that he sought after was finally being realized. Trying to keep his composure, he looked down and reached into his jacket to produce the slender matchlock pistol he kept with him at all times. When he looked back up, she was gone.

He had only taken his eyes off of her for a second. He looked around trying to take in his surroundings and pin point where she could have gone. In the dead of night the pale moon was the only source of light as it flooded through the tall redwood trees. He needed proof. Proof of their existence to bring to his employers. If he could kill her while she was in this state, it would be enough to start a city-wide investigation. This was the hunt he was waiting for. Though he was certain, for the moment at least, he was not the one doing the hunting.

A voice sounded then, as he cautiously stepped between the trees in his search. It sounded like Angeline's, though it was almost hypnotic and far less human.

"Can you feel it? Can you taste it Vincent? The hunger." The voice seemed to start in one direction and end elsewhere. Could she really be moving that fast? "My great-great grandfather found the mining caves all those years ago. And with them...within their depths...he found so much more. Have you ever wondered why there are so few wolves left here now? They would gather in great numbers and attacking us on sight. They can sense it. The gifts that we possess. It drives them mad with fear."

He stood still, waiting for the faintest sound of her movements. He lifted his jacket collar to block against the chill night air. His pistol was lit. He was ready.

     "So whatever this is, it runs in your bloodline. The entire Sovari family is cursed! That's the reason for so much seclusion. You're all monsters of the dark." He spat. Tired of her games. He heard a twig snap off in the distance and turned to face the sound. He was ready!

 "Monsters of the dark..." She echoed. Chuckling once more. "Allow me to step into the light." What he saw then, would haunt him until the end of his days. A creature stepped out before him, one hundred paces from where he stood. A tattered and ruined blue and black dress around her. Lanky pale arms with long black, dog like hairs extended into long fingers with sharp menacing claws. A slightly hunched back revealed an impressively strong chest and neck. Angeline's face was inhuman. An extended jaw revealed wicked canines and extremely sharp fangs. Her eyes glowed a soft blue, and she sniffed the air as if she could smell him quite easily from that distance. Her pupils were almost fully dilated and she shuddered visibly with an insatiable hunger. A low rumble came from her lips. Turning into a steady, menacing growl.

     "I...need to taste your flesh." She mumbled almost unable to speak anymore.

 Vincent could hardly think, could hardly breathe. Monsters were not supposed to be real! He raised his gun to her. At this range he might miss. He would only get one shot before it was too late. She saw him raise the gun, and charged at him. With unnerving speed. She was laughing, joyous laughter, it sounded freeing.

 She closed the distance between them with great loping strides. Sixty yards. Thirty yards. Vincent fired his weapon, hitting her square in the chest. The creature shrieked in pain and crashed to the ground before him and, after a moment of writhing in pain, lay quite still. Vincent let out a visible sigh of relief. He almost laughed to himself. He tucked away his pistol after disposing of the spent igniter and approached the beast, drawing a long dagger he kept tucked against his leg.

 "I am sorry, Lady Angeline, but unfortunately my employers need proof or else this whole nightmare will have just been a waste." He knelt down before her, examining the still creature. He poked her with his long dagger, just to be safe. "It's finally over." He said with another sigh of relief. He stepped over her and moved to roll her onto her back when he felt something grab onto his leg, and experienced intense pain as something squeezed and his bone snapped. He screamed in shock as he collapsed to the ground beside her body, he looked down to see one of her clawed hands locked around his once sturdy leg. She lifted her face up then, cold glowing blue eyes staring into his warm brown ones. Her gaping maw dripping with an insatiable hunger as she pulled him in close by his broken leg. He screamed in agony as he tried helplessly to flail and kick his shattered limb loose. 

 "Please no! Don't!" He cried out in vain, his struggling only made her grip tighten. "Angeline, stop this! Please!" He trembled with sheer terror as she dragged him in. "People will know that I'm missing!" He doubted she could speak even if she wanted to, so clearly lost in her desires as she was. He tried frantically to stab her with the long dagger in his hand and after several attempts it sunk into her shoulder and she howled in pain. Faster than he could possibly react she reached across with her other clawed hand and grabbed him firmly by the wrist. Yanking hard, she pulled him so that they were almost face to face. For a single moment in time, all was still under the pale moonlight. He looked at her, and she look at him. The chill night air rushed by, and just the sounds of his heavy breathing disturbed the silence of the night. Then she ripped him to pieces.

***

    It was late the next afternoon when she awakened in her bed. Tired, naked and filthy. Vincent's tattered journal rested unopened on her nightstand. She had definitely been out all night. As she started to sit up she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, she looked to discover it had been bandaged along with a smaller bandage just above her breast. They would heal in a few days' time. She headed to the latrine, where she was pleasantly surprised by a hot bath awaiting her. Sevastien always had good timing. It was one of the many reasons why she liked him so much. She washed up, carefully cleaning the dirt and filth off her smooth pale skin, dressed herself in a comfortable white dress of the latest fashion, and made her way to the dining hall. There, Sevastien was patiently waiting for her with a welcome smile and a polite bow.

"Good afternoon, Lady Angeline! It is a pleasant surprise to see you up so early!"

She laughed at his playfulness. "Would you believe it?" She asked him with a gorgeous and beaming smile only matched by her natural beauty. "I'm absolutely famished!"

The Necromancer

He walked with a purpose once more.
    There was a certain pleasure here. Walking among the dead. Standing upon the earth that sheltered the remnants of the people of the past. Marius walked with a determined stride, he had a goal, part of a much larger plan that would once again tip the balance into his favor. He ran his pale slender fingers over a tall tombstone as he passed it by, not even bothering to take a glance at the name of it's owner, which had undoubtedly been chiseled in many years ago. His dark gray and black robes dragged lightly behind him as he headed towards his prize. This cemetery was much more than it seemed. Few people knew of the unforgivable arts of the desecration of the human body as well as he did. But it would seem that here, in this most unusual of cemeteries, the people that constructed it had been forced to do something most unrighteous.
    Hidden deep in the back corner of the large cemetery of the city called Ruek was a well guarded secret, a mass burial ground. Marius had learned of it in his studies over a year ago and had immediately started an expedition upon obtaining further research to back this claim. Hiring henchmen for the job had been easy enough. The promise of simply attained wealth drew many. Even if Marius had no intention of keeping his word. But they need not know that just yet. Now that he was so very close.
    He could feel the masses of empty life vessels all around him, waiting to be filled again with insatiable desires. His pace slowed as he took a glance at the tome he kept with him at all times. A tome bound with blackened leather and inscribed with the unholy symbol of the necromancer. It had been printed in an archaic text thought long forgotten. A language Marius had spent two decades mastering. The language of the Dead. He had memorized most of this book of course, he had read and studied it hundreds of times.
    Though he was not yet old and frail, this book could stall that from happening altogether. His naturally black hair had it's first signs of gray. His lightly trimmed beard as well. His pace began to quicken as he wound his way through the large city cemetery. He found the page he was looking for. With this spell he would have no trouble dealing with the henchmen after they had served his purpose. He quickly reread the spell, making sure that every syllable would be perfectly enunciated and shut the book, hiding it among his robes once more.
    He could see it. The entrance to the burial grounds was mere paces away. His corrupt heart beat in his chest. He had never felt more alive, being here among the dead. The entrance was cleverly disguised as a small royal crypt for the lesser nobility. It read: 'Here lies Edwyn Carver, the last of the House Carver. May their souls and royal line rest in eternal peace.'
    Marius chuckled to himself as he approached the entrance. His henchmen busily attempting to break down the door for him as he had ordered.
    "Not far now," Marius said. His voice tingling with anticipation. "What you all seek is hidden within this crypt. Work faster. The sun is setting."
It always worked best to be short and plain with simple men. Confusion due to complex dialogue could only create turmoil and mistrust. And that would make him have to kill them before their task was completed.
    "Just through this door yeah?" One of the men asked him as he pointed towards it. Marius nodded, not even caring to waste his breath forming words for this man. The henchman pushed the other two he was working with aside as they finished loosening the rusted hinges on the side. The man sucked in a mighty breath and kicked hard at the door where the locking mechanism should be. He kicked at it again and the door groaned in protest. It was working. Two more kicks and the door broke free and was even blasted off of one rusty hinge. A cloud of dust poured out from the mouth of the crypt as the four of them stepped inside. They had broken through.
Now for the tricky part.
    The crypt appeared to be a normal crypt used for deceased people of nobility. There were dusty ceremonial candles laid all around the small room. The casket lay in the center of the room up on a large pedestal.
    "Bring me more light." Marius commanded.
The two henchmen that had been working on the door left the room to fetch oil lamps from the wagon they had used to travel here. Marius could have brightened the room with wytchfire, but the men thinking he was just a wealthy merchant with a head for exploration, and not a manipulator of the dead, was more than likely the only reason they had agreed to accompany him thus far. They were all armed with basic weaponry. The man that had chosen to stay with him was called Sten. At least he thought that was his name. He carried a hand axe, which he had used earlier and failed with miserably when he had attempted to chop his way into this room. All three of these men were balding and brawny. Members of some sort of club he assumed. They were the ruffian type, all brawn and little to no brain. Perfect, as far as Marius was concerned.
    "It's in here then?" Sten asked him again. Full of questions this one. He began to shamble around the room and fumble with some of the candles and vases lining the walls.
    "Yes, we're looking for a hidden passage somewhere in this room. My guess would be that it would likely be somewhere along the floor..." Marius informed him impatiently as Sten continued to peek under vases and sniff candles along the walls.
Thankfully, the other two henchmen came back shortly after each armed with two glowing lamps. Were they twins? Or did they both just look the same on purpose? One had an earring in his left ear while the other had an earring in his right. That was about it for trying to tell them apart.
    "Hand me that." Marius said as he reached out for one of the lamps. The left eared one handed him a lamp. "Now look along the floors here, look for a false slab of stone or something of that nature you understand?" They both nodded simultaneously and began searching in opposite directions. Sten finally caught on to what he was supposed to be doing, and the only reason he was being kept alive, and began to examine the floor as well.
    Marius, however, moved to the casket. It was made out of metal of all things. Royalty deserved to rot in metal instead of wood apparently. Marius studied it and noticed two hinges on one side. So he walked around to the other and gently lifted up the casket.
    If it did not reek of the dead before, it certainly did now. There was definitely something long dead in it. But because this person or creature was left in a metal casket, in a place that reached very high temperatures during the summer. Most of it had been melted over the past sixty years that it had been kept in here.
    Sten and the others were noticeably gagging from the smell. So Marius quickly closed the casket and covered his nose and mouth with cloth. His henchmen followed his example after many complaints and kept on the search.
    "There ain't nothin' in here!" Sten whined. "All these stones is the same! Every one. I been around and around this cramped little room five times now and I tells yah, they're all the same!"
He was unfortunately right. Marius had to think. Every stone slab on the floor was damn near identical. They were all placed together perfectly, pressed and sealed down. None were loose, none wobbled. There was nothing.
    "Calm down mighty Sten. I swear to you that it is in here. We are missing something. Give me some time to think." Marius pleaded as he began pacing around the cramped little room.
They were running out of options. The room was far too plain to hold any secret levers or mechanisms. Just dust and cobwebs and candles. Oh and lets not forget the vases that Sten thoroughly examined for damn near half an hour. What was he missing? He was so very close! Marius balled a tight fist in frustration.
    "Oy! I think I've found somethin' here!" The right eared one proclaimed a few minutes later.
Marius jumped with elation and quickly moved over to see what he had found.
    The brawny idiot was staring straight up at the ceiling. He was just staring off into space. Useless, incompetent, worthless henchmen. "Well...What did you find?" Marius asked anyway.
    "Well I was just givin' myself a moment to rest and think things through a little," He began with lots of needless enthusiasm and hand motions as if he was recounting a favored childhood memory. "An' I just happened to lean back to stretch out my back like this," He stood tall and leaned back exaggerating the motion.
    "And...?" Marius asked, his impatience reaching its limit. "Get on with it!" he yelled. But he stopped almost mid sentence and began to flash a smile of pure delight.
   "You've done it! You're a genius! Good work my friend!" Marius praised as he followed the mans gaze upward. Once again, every slab of stone used here was about as identical as you could get them to be. Every slab but one. Just to the right of the casket, up on the low ceiling was a slab of stone that stood out from the rest. This slab had a small marking in it's center. It was the symbol of forgiveness. A shield with a glorious stag carved into it. It was small, but painstakingly carved into this stone. An attempt for them to be forgiven for what they had done here, he assumed. It was directly above the entrance to the burial grounds.
    "Get this stone out of the ground." Marius commanded, as he pointed to the stone directly beneath the symbol, his resolve restored.
The men smiled broadly and eagerly got to work.
They brought out their hammers and Sten's axe and began their work chipping away at the slab, loosening it from it's sealed position in the ground. Marius peered between them on occasion, eager to get inside and begin his dark work. The men worked hard, he could give them that much credit. Easily worth the small incentive fee to get them to come along. Marius knew they had reached his target when he began to smell another foul smell coming up from the loosened floor. This one was much more persistent.
    The henchmen groaned with displeasure. "What is it? That's a horrid smell that is!" Sten remarked. The others clearly agreed.
    "You are in a cemetery, do not be so alarmed when you smell the dead." Marius was quick to reply.
They kept groaning as nearly any man would, but they kept to their job and were finally able to lift out the broken pieces of stone to uncover a moldy wooden trap door.
    "Step aside if you would." Marius commanded as he bent low to inspect the trap door. The others backed away giving him some space and glad to be getting out of the more intense stench coming up from the trap door. He pulled on the latch but it would not budge. Someone had gone to great length to keep this place sealed.
    "Sten," Marius barked. Gaining the big man's attention. "Break it down." He commanded and pointed to one of the hammers they had left on the floor. The man walked up and picked up the hammer as Marius stepped behind his henchmen. He rolled up his sleeves and began casting as the other two men stepped forward to watch Sten in his labor.
     Marius chanted softly so that the others would not be alarmed, as he began, his naturally green eyes began to swirl and darken with black and gray mist until his cornea were filled and his pupils could no longer be seen. "Ak-tra-nyu May-setta-va-na, Et-rhu-toh Sha-kavalia-nhu, Li-esto-provacadya-wa-oom-falasha." He timed the end of his chant perfectly with the final crash of Sten's hammer. The men looked back to him then, having heard him muttering something under his breath.
    "What did yah say now?" One of them asked as their eyes fell upon him.
 They were unnerved. After peering down and seeing the horrors of Death itself lurking below. Horrors that had been carefully hidden and forgotten for over half a century. If that was not enough to frighten them, then seeing the man that led them here with two black orbs for eyes was surely enough to do so.
    The air chilled, the temperature dropping rapidly around the three of them. Marius could see Sten's breath coming from his lips. The lights from the oil lamps began to flicker and wane as the cold intensified. At least this man had the mind to try and attack Marius. The man charged forward, hammer held high. Or tried to. He moved with great difficulty, every muscle in his body slowing. No, not slowing. Decaying. He was aging rapidly. His life running the course of decades in well under a minute. He managed to take two steps forward before he hit the ground, drained and lifeless. He died with the setting of the sun just outside.
    His two companions were experiencing the second spell he had cast. For Marius had realized halfway through casting his spell on Sten that he would not have enough time to complete it two more times for the rest of them. He had cast a deep freeze spell right on top of where they had been working. They could not even move right now if they had wanted to. Their skin and lips turned blue as they literally froze to death before him. Marius smiled and thanked them for their services. "That, my worthwhile companions, was the language of the Dead. May you have the privilege of serving me in Death as well." He said as he descended down the stairs hidden beneath the trap door.    
The burial ground was dank and reeked of rotten flesh. This is where they had left them. The people of the fair port city of Ruek. Though few were still alive who could remember such events. A great battle took place not far from here a little over sixty years ago. Though he knew Ruek to be the clear winner, the losers were unknown, and they had paid a unimaginable price for their defeat. Whether the lords of Ruek decided that they did not deserve proper burials or that it would be too costly, they were placed, unceremoniously, here. In this massive cavern dug beneath the ground. Afterwards they had a cemetery built on top to ward off investigation and as a reasonable cover for the smell and had bribed off all of those involved. Hiding the dead with the dead. Smart of them. Leaving the bodies where they had been killed in battle would have been sacrilegious after all. Marius smiled at the irony.
    He walked among almost three thousand corpses. All piled on top of each other, like carpets in a shop or loaves of bread cooling in their shelves. This was where he would make his army. It was perfect. A necromancer's dream. The amount of bodies alone was enough. That most were not striped of their armor and weapons before dying made this place priceless. Marius could not help but shiver with anticipation. He could feel Death's presence all around him, in a way that he had never felt in all his life. He would change the world.
    He began immediately. The magical ring on his left hand begging to be put to use. He began chanting again as he took the ring off his hand and traced it along one of the musty walls. The ring left a faintly glowing purple trail where ever it went. He drew a large circle with runes and symbols carved all around it. Ancient texts of the dead.
    All the while he chanted, practiced words of the dead that he knew all too well. Soon the lines began to glow brighter as he finished speaking in the unnatural tongue. "Come forth, spirits and souls of the fallen. Serve me and be made anew in undeath." He took a step back and waited. He knew they would come. It was eerily quiet for several moments as the glowing portal flickered with unnatural energy. Suddenly, the air picked up all around him, churning and whirling inside the large dark burial ground. The souls began pouring through the open portal in great numbers.
    The Undead had come, and they filled their new hosts eagerly. And began to rise. They knew only one purpose, to serve their summoner until Death claimed them once more. In this undeath, they felt jealously and pain and suffering. They yearned to kill those of the living, for if they could not truly live again, then they would take the lives of those that did.
    Marius chanted, straining with the massive amount of magical energy required to maintain the portal, and to summon so many souls into this world. His muscles tightened and his hair waved wildly in the wind as the souls swirled around him fighting among themselves for the best hosts to carry them. His hair began to gray and thin and lengthen. The spells taking his very life-force as recompense for his need of so many souls. His beard grayed and lengthened until it reached his chest and his head hair drooped down past his shoulders. Finally the magic stopped, the last vessel was filled. The drawings on the wall dimmed and faded with the rest of the light. His army stood all around him.
    He had aged. But it was unnatural aging. His body felt the same even though it was at least twenty years older. He hardly cared. There were dozens of ways for a necromancer to preserve his youth. He left the burial chamber, and then the crypt, and stepped into the moonlight.
    He could hear shuffling and shambling all around him, and beneath him came the sounds of banging and loud thumps. Even the dead up here were summoned. They attempted to break free of their coffins and up through the shallow earth above them. They would join him as well. And he controlled them all. Through his thoughts and through his spells. They began to flow steadily out of the crypt they had been left to rot in all those years ago.
    Marius beamed with unnatural energies. He cackled with glee as he saw his three henchmen approaching him as well as another of them that he had killed in secret after he had sent the man to kill the owners of the cemetery. He would prepare here throughout the night. He knew he would have enough time. He had already thought out much of the battles to come. Zombies and skeletal corpses roamed all around him, doing his mental bidding. Forming into ranks, into command groups, into battle lines. Soon, after Ruek lied in ruin, he would have bows and arrows, machines of war, even cavalry. Horses were far easier to summon than humans after all. Marius looked out over the small hill that hid his unnatural business from the watchmen of Ruek, no one would disturb him tonight. They were all tucked safely behind their walls. He looked back to his army, at Sten and his henchmen that would slay his horses that he left with the wagon by his orders so that he could make them anew. He still could hardly tell the four men apart. He walked over to them as they began slaughtering his horses. He pulled up his hood and slid down the long sleeves of his dark gray and black robe and climbed up into the front of his wagon. His disheveled gray hair poured from the hood's mouth.
    "The people of Ruek, will die with the coming dawn." He said to himself.
But his legions of undead drew their weapons anyway and raised them high into the sky. Completely agreeing with his claim.

__________________________


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Heroine

She was losing it. Her control. Isabelle stepped out of her car and slammed the door behind her. Way out here, in this dry and desolate place, she could be alone, she could think. And this was going to be one of the biggest decisions of her life.

    It was hot, really hot. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, beaming down on Isabelle's dark skin. That wasn't a problem however, she moved her hands in great swaying arcs and the wind picked up around her, it was cool, her own personal air conditioning. She wore a tight fitting T-shirt with a simple yet stylish black leather vest over it and light blue skinny jeans. You know, the kind all the popular girls wear with the knees worn and shredded to ruin.
    Grass hardly grew here, it was mostly just dust and rocks. Her cute little blue car was her attempting at being normal. Most of the other girls  that were fresh out of college moved far away from this place. The city wasn't very big, but it was home. There were good people here. A few at least. 

    Her powers were growing stronger every day. She had to come way out here to this isolated place more often to train and stay on top of her abilities. She was superhuman. The first of her kind as far as she knew. There weren't any stories about people like her, so she didn't tell anyone, not even her family or Kyle her best guy-friend.
    She went through her warm-up routines. She lifted her arms up and her brown eyes went a cloudy gray color as wind swept around her in an upward direction. She twisted her body, doing a complete circle as she brought her arms back down to her slender chest and threw them upward gracefully. A swirling vortex of wind formed around her, making her hair dance as the small tornado began to intensify around her. She tilted her head up as she slowly spun to look at the gorgeous sky through the eye of the tornado she had created, she smiled, there was true joy in her cloudy eyes.
    She regained focus and settled her feet, throwing both of her arms out forcefully to each side. The tornado unraveled around her but she still held control of the wind she had used for it. She twisted gracefully in a tight circle and punched out in front of her. A concussive blast of wind shot from her fist at great speed and turned a thorny bush into splintered chips of wood and shredded leaves. Continuing with her momentum, she twisted again while sticking her other arm straight out letting it drag through the wind. She opened her hand half way through the spin and spread her fingers as wide as she could, unleashing a mighty swirl of wind that sent sand and dust flying around her. Lastly, she swept her arms down and then up behind her, tightening her back and making a V with her arms pointed up and behind her as far as she could stretch them. She swung them both forward as hard as she could and made her hands clap in front of her. The sound was thunderous. The air rippled in front of her as a massive wave of force shot outward towards her target. Fifty feet away the wave collided with a massive boulder and shattered it to pieces. The wave kept going, unhindered for another thirty feet until it finally began to lose its momentum and die out. Isabelle settled down afterwards, her eyes turning back to their natural brown again. She had never felt more alive then when she was out here.
     She was breathing heavily, but not from being tired, it was the adrenaline, the rush she got when she began manipulating the winds around her. Being out here cleared her mind. And she needed to think things through today.
    She squatted down, not wanting to get her pants any dirtier than they already were. She wanted to help people. She could. She knew she could. But the risks. What if she got caught? How would she continue to hide who she was from the people she loved? It was too risky. She would make enemies. In this city the people who didn't make all their money from an honest living didn't like having their toes stepped on. She sighed. She twirled a finger with her hand down at her side, the wind began picking up around her legs. She tucked in her pointer finger into her thumb as if she was going to flick it at something. Aimed it at her petite blue car, released. A small blast flew across the distance. She waited. One second. Two seconds. PING! The car shook slightly as the blow made contact. No damage done of course. She paid for the damn car herself after all. Still, it was fun and passed the time. And as a minor side effect it worked on her aim. But she didn't even stop to consider that.
    She would need a disguise then. So that people couldn't tell who she was. That would help. Did that mean that she would have to come up with some cheesy name for people to call her? Is that how it worked? Or did they pick the name for you? She had no idea. She began walking, it helped her think.
    Vigilantism was a dangerous thing. Even the police would be hunting her. She would need a good day time job to throw them off her scent from her more illegal hobbies. Ugh. This will be stressful.
    "Stressful but rewarding..." She muttered to herself as she began to drag her feet and kick at small rocks in her aimless path. She stopped and looked over to the city she loved.
    She balled her hands into fists and clenched them. "Stop being a scared little girl Is," Isabelle said to herself. Self motivation. It was working. "If anyone can do this, it's you." She looked down at her clenched hands. Her breath was even. Calm. The wind blowing lightly through her hair. "You could be a hero."
    She reached into the collar of her shirt and pulled out a pair of cheap motorcycle goggles she left hanging around her neck. She looked at them in her hands. She would definitely need an upgrade. She put them on so that they rested comfortably on her forehead as she made sure the straps in the back were tight so that they stayed there.
   This would be her chance to prove herself. To show the world what she could do and that what she did was for the benefit of others. She wouldn't be some vigilante. That wasn't what she wanted to be. She would seek out the bad and the dangerous. The corrupt and the unjust. She would fight to make things right no matter the consequences. She would be something more...
    Isabelle took three steps backwards. She quickened her breathing into short sharp bursts to get her heart pumping faster. Looking towards the city she was determined to protect, she reached up and pulled her goggles down over her eyes and began running. Sprinting! The wind breaking before her as she gathered its limitless energy and her eyes grew cloudy gray once more. She would be a heroine.
    Isabelle took two great bounding strides and kicked off into the air. Up she went. Higher. Higher. She soared in the golden sunlight towards the city and the people that she loved.

A Different Kind of Real

They're just dreams. He told himself.
    None of this is real. Jack sat up. He was slouching again. He knew better. Bad for his back and all that shit that parents say to you over and over until you actually start to listen. He was sitting on a ledge. He guessed he was on top of a building, but he never bothered to look down and see for himself. Not two-hundred meters away from him was a vast ocean of gray and green, cast in a beautiful shadow of orange and red hues as the sun rose just over the horizon. Long strands of grass swayed in the howling winds for miles around. As far as the eye could see. It didn't make any sense. Grass couldn't possibly grow three feet tall. Not here.
    "It's time." A determined voice behind him said. Mira walked up next to him. She was his companion here. Of that much he was certain at least. She cocked the shotgun in her hands after she slid the last round into the chamber and used the gun's sling to flip it onto her back with practiced ease. Her shoulder length auburn hair hardly even getting in the way anymore. Jack stood up and faced her.
    He loved her eyes. Sea green, so deep and full you could grow mad if you stared too long, lost in their abyss. Nothing like his much more common light brown. He pawed at his own disheveled array of muddy-brown hair with one hand, rubbed over the light stubble on his handsome face, and pulled back the long sleeves of his gray-blue sweater to his forearms with the other. Multitasking. Even here he was pretty damn good at it. He looked down to inspect himself. As if he expected to suddenly turn into Prince Charming. Torn jeans, the long-sleeve sweater and an undershirt were all that greeted him. She noticed his gaze.
    "Don't worry," She said as she brushed a patch of dirt off his forearm where he had rested it while he was sitting. "We'll be fine. It's just you and me now." She gave him a weak smile. Wind blowing strands of auburn hair into her face as she looked up at him. God she was gorgeous. Winding athletic curves that could make a man clench his jaw so tight his teeth shattered. Black zip-up jacket with a matching auburn shirt underneath. Dark gray jeans and a 12-gauge automatic shotgun strapped to her back. "Let's be off Jack."
    She stepped behind him and gave him and gentle but firm push off of the ledge of the building. He was startled at first. He desperately tried to turn around and grab onto anything to keep from falling, but as he began to slowly drift over the edge he quickly realized, that he was falling at a slow and harmless rate. She laughed at him. She always laughed at him when he messed up. He would be grumpy about it if it wasn't one of the most melodic sounds he'd ever heard. She didn't have one of those girly high pitched voices, it was...deeper. Like a woman's voice, probably because she was pretty tall for one, but when she laughed it would change pitch depending on how funny she thought something was.
    She jumped lightly off the ledge after him and they glided down together off the three-story building to the concrete below. She landed gracefully and headed off to their stash by the base of the building. He followed and gazed back up from where he had just descended. It was an old building, probably an old lumber mill or some sort of factory. Clearly abandoned and out of use for there were no cars in the parking lot around them. The parking lot ended just before the great ocean of grass began. Jack looked up again. How did I even get up there?
He noticed Mira had gained quite a lead ahead of him to their stash so he took the opportunity to jump in place. Luckily she wasn't watching. His jump was completely normal. No weird gravity here. He must have looked like an idiot jumping in place just now. He dusted off his dirty jeans a little and hurried to catch up to her.
    She walked with a purpose. And still managed to make it look sexy. Or maybe he was just so in love with her that she couldn't possibly do anything and not be sexy...yeah...that was probably a better assessment.
    She opened up their hidden stash that was tucked away behind an unused dumpster and some old crates and began rummaging through its contents. "We probably only have around a half an hour left here Jack." She said with a carefree attitude.
    "And where will we be going after that time is up?" Jack asked as me moved closer to inspect what Mira was doing.
    "Who knows anymore," She replied with a sigh, she slid a heavy glove with what looked to be several tiny rows of metal sheets on the back, the metal working their way from her finger tips down the back of her hand to the base of her forearm. Was it just his imagination or were there tiny rows of vents in between each sheet of metal? Vents? Like exhaustion vents? He leaned in a bit closer to get a better look. She noticed and held her hand up for him once she finished securing the glove into place and spread out her fingers. She was smiling at him again. "Want one?" She asked. And then she started chuckling at him again. Damnit.
    "Nah, you keep that, you got my swords in there still?" He asked eagerly as she turned back towards the stash pile and picked through it looking for what he asked for. How do I remember about the swords but not how the hell we got here?
    "Yup!" She turned around holding two double-edged short swords. two and a half feet in length. "And you're harness, try not to rip this one though alright?"
     Just when I thought I was beginning to remember things. "Yeah, it won't happen again. Freak accident." He grabbed his twin swords, beautifully crafted just for his hands, with exotic markings and runes running down the blades. What were those for again? He just couldn't remember. He helped himself expertly into his sword harness and slid the swords smoothly into place forming an X on his back.
    "And your dagger belt," Mira said as she reached her arms around her back and strapped the belt into place. She was so close, pressed into Jack's chest, full, soft lips just inches away. He couldn't help but stared at them. Like always, she noticed. "What?" She asked taking a step back and pushing up her low cut auburn shirt revealing some cleavage. "These not perky enough for yah?"
    Jack went wide eyed as he sucked in his breath and coughed awkwardly and turned away. Back towards the ocean of tall grass. He tried to listen to the howling of the wind that made the long green and gray stems sway. Anything to erase that awkward moment.
    She walked up beside him enjoying the view and his company. But there was a softness in her eyes. "You really don't remember me, do you?" She looked towards him and looked stung.
    It pained him to see her look at him like that. "I'm sorry," He dared to move and take her other bare hand. "I really am trying. I can remember only bits and pieces. Fragments of everything, even of who I am, and why we're here. And I feel too ashamed to ask."
    She noticed the pain mirrored in his eyes as well. She squeezed his hand and then turned as she began to lead him towards the grass. "Come," She said once they had reached the edge of the parking lot. She let go of his hand and looked over her shoulder at him.
    "This is a dream Mira. Isn't it?" Jack asked in frustration while shaking his head. He took a step back, away from her and the ocean of grass.
    She smiled at him, stepping back towards him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. "Then it's a good dream is it not?"
    She released him without bothering to look back, turned, and sprinted off into the ocean of grass.
    He was stunned. He was pretty sure that his heart had still not started beating again. Was it so simple?
    He took a deep breath. "I should probably go after her huh." Jack lectured to himself. "This is the part where I'm supposed to chase after the girl before she gets away." His own damn legs wouldn't move. So he worked his arms as if stretching before a long run, swinging them across his chest and back out wide. Letting everything else go. Gaining confidence and courage. Nothing else mattered. He was ready.
    She was the only constant in all of this. He loved her. That much he knew. So he ran after her.

To See a New Dawn

    Martin walked sluggishly up the stairs to his apartment. It was only five floors, it's good exercise. Or at least that's what he managed to tell himself everyday after work. Some small part of him was convinced that this daily ritual was good for his health. Though it hardly seemed to show any effect on his body. Thirty-eight damn years on this Earth and he was already growing fat. Or was that just his own unreasonable self doubt? Maybe even a little pity now that he thought about it.
    The building was fairly old, not too old to look rundown and abused, due to recent refurbishing. Though he could imagine that the costs must have been pretty steep for the new owner. The walls were still mostly plaster and wood and the floors had little tile and far too much carpet. It made the transition from the hard stairs to the hallways a small comfort he supposed.
    As he reached the fifth floor of his quiet apartment complex he wondered how much of what he did mattered. Martin had been working for the same company for twelve long years. Gathering and interpreting data for groups of scientists he had never met. Whom he would probably never meet if he worked there another forty years. Was this a mid-life crisis? Is that what all this garbage running through my head is? Almost half of my life is over and spent and what do I have to show for it?
    Martin opened up the door to his apartment, 507, just as the man from 509 managed to swing his door open as he was leaving. What was his name again?
    "Hey, it's Martin right?" the man asked as he tested his own door handle behind him. He always did that, the door locked automatically but he probably knew that. The man looked smart, wore glasses, always dressed nice if not casual. His dark skin was pretty much the complete opposite of my own ghostly hue. The sun pretty much goes right through me, or turns me redder than a Christmas ornament. The man had hazel eyes though, rare for that skin complexion, almost seems to offset or compliment him depending on how long you made eye contact.  "You just getting in?" The man asked. "These days are only getting longer man I'm telling you." He started to walk over to me as I began to step inside. He noticed my movement however and changed his course towards the elevators instead. I did something socially unacceptable again didn't I?
    "Hey." I awkwardly call back to him as he begins walking down the hallway. He looks over his shoulder but I can tell that he's in no hurry for the moment. So I guess I have no choice but to attempt to redeem myself. "Hey, sorry...I just wanted to...make sure the lights were off in my apartment." I managed to squeeze a full sentence out of my system. Maybe miracles do happen.
    He chuckles at me, though he can clearly sense my discomfort. "The name's Barry. I've seen you a few times, but I can tell when a man needs his privacy." He walks over and shakes my hand. He's got quite the grip, and my hand's nothing but long fingers. "Just wanted to say hello since I caught you before I left." He lets go of my hand finally and starts to head down the hallway. "Well, I'm off to see a man about a couple of car parts, nice to meet you again." He flashes a perfect smile as he turns and makes his way for the elevator. I know for sure that this is the end of the conversation at last. So I waved goodbye to him as he walks away, realize all too late that I waved to his back and he never knew.
    Boy do I suck at conversations when I'm tired.
    The apartment is just as Martin had left it much earlier in the day. It was a small place, just a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom, nothing fancy. A pale blue carpet covered most of it, except the kitchen and bathroom of course. He walks over to the refrigerator and opens it with a forceful tug. Empty. Or damn close to it. Just a bare refrigerator with all the essentials...butter, ketchup, a few loaves of bread. Oh and what's this? He lifts up the bread, cheese. Couldn't make a decent meal without this fine piece of...maybe it was cheddar. Probably provolone. Martin closes the refrigerator with a depressed look forming on his face. As fortune would have it, he had already eaten dinner today. He would still have to go shopping in the morning before work. The day was longer than usual due to some crazy malfunction with some of the lab equipment. Something about some kid's blood he had tested he figured. Hell if he knew, he just called it in and got to sit in the lounge room for an extra hour and a half before he was allowed to clean up and leave work. Dinner at the cafeteria was quiet at least, everyone else he knew had already been long gone.
    Martin made his way into his bedroom, dragging his feet behind him as he went like they were tied to ship anchors. His bed was fortunately a full sized bed. He had a small round desk made of some type of wood in the corner with a lamp resting on it and a big comfy office chair he had managed to steal from his workplace over a year ago. The wonderful thing even rocked back if you switched the settings with the handles underneath. Other than that were his dresser and his closet which contained mostly clothes and belongings that he did not need on a daily basis.
As he made his way over to his bed and pulled back the sheets the fatigue hit him harder than he expected. He kicked off his shoes and barely managed to take off his nice pants and shirt before he was fast asleep.
    He awoke with the light of a new sun breaching the horizon. His eyes were still cloudy with dreams clinging desperate for a few more hours of attention. Something about his mother telling him not to wake up, to stay out of his room. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, to stay out of the room he was currently staying in? Well that's why they are just dreams after all he guessed.
    As his eyes began to clear he noticed something was off. He blinked a few times to fight away the sleep.
The light where the sun was coming from was too bright, he had shades on his windows, only small rays of light could fight their way through the gaps in that old thing. Then what was this?
    Martin sat up. He rubbed a long and bony hand over his eyes and looked towards the side of the room. His lamp was on. In its brightest setting, sitting in its exact spot, unmoved, but inexplicably, on. He looked over further, and his breath caught as a chill went down his spine.
    "Hello Martin." a calm, deep voice said to him.
Sitting in Martin's chair off in the other corner, was a man. At least he guessed it to be a man from the sound of its voice. The light from the far corner casting him in an eerie shadow. "Do you know...who I am?" the creature said. As he turned in the chair a small sense of relief hit Martin as he could make out arms and legs all covered in black cloth to hide his features. The man sat in a relaxed position with one leg crossed over the other, clearly content to sit here and watch me squirm.
    "No, I'm afraid I don't sir." Martin said nervously as he sat up even straighter in his bed.
    "Then you can feel free to call me Nemo." The man began popping his knuckles, not in the way those people tended to do in the movies before a fight. He did it slowly, one joint at a time in a slow and unnerving pattern. Right hand down to the little finger, then left hand down to the little finger, then the left thumb, then the right thumb, then both wrists at the same time.
    "Why are you here? This is my home. You are tresspassing." Martin managed to squeak out. Clearly not very intimidating. He swallowed hard and began to fumble with his bed sheets. The man clearly noticed.
    "I will be the one to ask the questions here. Do you understand?" The man did not wait for a response in the slightest. "You and I are going to have...a conversation of sorts here and now, during this most untimely hour." The man paused as he rolled his wrists again making them pop. "Also, if at any point during our conversation, you attempt to get out of that bed that you now so comfortably sit in, you will die. Most horribly." The man spoke slowly and clearly and was almost unnaturally calm given the news that he had just given Martin.
    The blood vanished from Martin's already pale face. He looked over at the clock sitting on his dresser. It read 3:49 AM. Perfect, everyone on this good Earth would be long asleep by now. He even doubted anyone would hear him if he should scream. Martin was pretty good at calculations. He did not like the odds of calling this man's bluff.
    He gave in. "I...I accept your terms, Nemo sir." He began scratching his arm nervously, doing small pinches, trying to see if he could wake himself up, surely this was some sort of nightmare.
    "I will ask the questions and you will answer them to the best of your abilities. However, know that I have been tasked with dealing your death. So, at the end of this conversation, you will die." His ability to so calmly inform him of such terrifying news made Martin's stomach churn. How could a man so calmly do such a thing? Do I really have no say in this matter? He has to be bluffing! This can't be real!
    "However," the man said, raising his hands from their resting position, folded in his lap, in order to make a somewhat enthusiastic gesture. "I believe in something greater than you an I. A game of chance." The man flashed a hint of a smile. He was enjoying this. Took pleasure in the fear he so easily caused in others.               I'll have to do what he says for now. Clearly he's done this before. His positioning, his clothing, his unnerving calm...only someone with lots of experience could be so calm. And that sets me one more step behind him.
    "A....game?" Martin asked. Though he immediately regretted speaking. The man's eyes narrowed sharply and his hand motions stopped suddenly.
    "Yes Martin. A game. With rules that you would do well to pay attention to, for I shall not repeat them once we have started playing." He put his hands comfortably in his lap once more and let the new information sink in. Patience was clearly one of this man's virtues, and right now he might as well have all the time in the world. "Are you ready to hear the rules?" Nemo asked.
    Nothing ventured. Nothing gained. Martin swallowed again. "Yes. I think that I'm ready to listen."
    Martin was not one of the best people to have a conversation with. He lacked many social skills so most people saw him as awkward or uncomfortable. So he adapted where he could. He was an excellent listener. He could listen to two or three conversations at once and pick out the details well enough to know what was going on. He had spent many years in the cafeteria practicing by himself. Or at least that's what he liked to tell himself now at this moment where his lack of friends and social skills seemed to be coming in handy. However Martin did not play many games. He had to admit that he spent most of his free time reading many of the books that were on the shelves in his living room or watching the news.
    "Very well. Here's how the game works. I will ask you a series of questions. You, dear Martin, will answer these questions to the very best of your abilities." The man grinned at him openly. Though Martin could still hardly make out any significant facial features. "If you lie once or answer incorrectly once, you will lose something of value to you. Of my choice." Nemo said and pointed a gloved finger at himself. "If you lie twice or get two questions incorrect, I add an additional rule that you do not yet know about, to the game. If you lie three times or get three answer incorrect, then I win the game. And you, Martin, will die." he let the news settle in for a few seconds and then surprisingly, the man chuckled. And here I thought the man incapable of any sort of emotion. "Don't worry, you wont get to experience that sort of excitement just yet." Nemo said. He settled himself back to his usual calm demeanor.
    "So how do I win this game?" Martin asks. Again regretting having done so immediately as the man goes rigid for several heartbeats. Clearly this man did not enjoy being interrupted, even when he took long breaks between thoughts.So he has buttons that he doesn't like to be pushed. Might come in handy. But best not to let him know that I'm being rational and using reason. "Sorry...sorry Nemo. It won't happen again." Martin assured him as he nervously began scratching his arm and fiddling with the bed sheets again.
    Nemo began to relax a little again. But the man seemed more agitated than before. I'd do well to make good on my word.
   Nemo stood up from his chair. The man was easily 6'3''. The way he walked was almost graceful. A toned muscular form walking without making a sound for 3 paces. He reached the window and looked toward Martin as he drew the shades open revealing the dark still night. That's when Martin was sure of it. He had to be human. The man had black hair, the kind you could only get from dying it repeatedly. There was no way to tell his age, he was clean shaven, his skin tone was impossible to tell in the light. Martin knew how to pick off useful details about a person. He did it almost every day for work. But this man must have been all too aware of that for he revealed very little about himself. Until Martin looked into his eyes. Big mistake, another chill ran down his spine, this one making him physically squirm where he sat. This could not be a man. Martin was afraid again. More afraid than he had ever been in his entire life. Those cold dead orbs that this man used to look upon him. They were so light blue they were almost clear. He could feel the ice coming from them all the way across the room. Nemo walked back into the shadows cast by the lamp and sat in his chair until he was once again comfortable.
    "The way for you to win this game. Is to play until sunrise." Nemo calmly stated and pointed one gloved hand towards the now uncovered window. "When the rays of the sun hit my face you will win." He said it so plainly. Though Martin seriously doubted that it would be that easy. All he had to do was delay the game until sunrise? That didn't sound so hard, it was already 3:58 AM. The sun should be up in just a couple of hours!
    "If you should manage to win this game," He pulled from behind the couch a three foot long sword in a beautifully designed sheath the kind of which Martin had never seen before. It was a double edge blade with a gold and jewel encrusted hilt. The hilt seemed to form the mouth of a serpent, and the snake coiled its way down the sheath in a fantastic display of craftsmanship. The man rested it delicately on the floor before him. "If you should win, then I will take my own life, and this sword will pass to you. Don't get rid of it, it is worth more than you could imagine."
    Nemo seemed oddly attached to the sword. As if he'd grown up with it, spent the years it would take to master such a weapon.
    "Are you ready to begin?" Nemo asked, grim faced once more.
    "If I refuse?" Martin asked already knowing the answer.
    "That would be...unwise." Nemo didn't even bother to blink as he spoke those words.
    "Very well, we can begin. I will make it to sunset." Martin said without the slightest hint of confidence.
    "Yes...we shall see. Let's begin. Where do you work?" He folded his arms together and rested, casually rocking back and forth in Martin's amazing office chair.
    Easy enough question I suppose. "I work at Neumata Industries down town by the small shopping mall."
    "What is it exactly, that you do for Neumata Industries?"
    "I take DNA samples, mostly blood, and analyze them. I look for: abnormalities, usage of drugs, and I work in the research laboratories. There I...often take part in...classified research." He looked at Nemo, though he could hardly see his face, he doubted that 'Classified' would be a good answer for the man. Best to be truthful and safe than have a strike against me I suppose. Oh balls! Was it only 4:03? This was going to be the longest night of his life. He tried to continue but started to stumble over his own words.
    "Careful now Martin, you wouldn't want your first strike already now would you?"
    It's a rhetorical question Martin. Just continue before he gets angry. "The classified research is genetic coding. I try to enhance cellular growth and to enhance muscular density in order to create a stronger, healthier...better human being."
    "Strike one." Nemo said passively.
    "...wait what?" Martin started to say, but as he spoke Nemo moved and in the blink of an eye he was on top of him. Martin struggled, his arms flailing about as Nemo pinned him down onto the bed with practice efficiency. The man was incredibly strong, he could feel corded muscle press him onto his stomach on the bed and pin his hands behind his back. His knees locking Martin's body in place while he used a single hand to pin back both of his.
    "I ask you a question, and you answer. I asked you if you would not want your first strike, and you failed to answer me. Therefore I am now tasked with relieving you of something of value." A long slender knife appeared in his free hand that he brought down to Martin's face. The blade was razor sharp, made for nice and clean cuts. He probably wouldn't even feel it until it had done its work.
    Martin began to buck and struggle wildly but it was no use. The man simply had him trapped.
    "I wouldn't struggle so much if I were you, I might slip and take more than I intend to." Nemo stated, and Martin settled as much as his instinctual fear would allow. There was silence for a brief moment. Just the sounds of them breathing evenly. Then a faint swish as the blade disappeared and came back into Martin's view. A single drop of blood clung to the edge of the blade. Fell. Hit the pillow next to his face. Then pain. Martin began to scream but Nemo was ready and shoved his face into the pillow to muffle it. Then when Martin was almost out of air, Nemo turned him around and held something up before his eyes. A finger. Nemo climbed off of him and gave him wraps and gauze to stem the bleeding from his left hand. His ring finger was simply gone. A perfect surgical cut through tendon and bone.
    "You evil bastard! I'll kill you for this! You hear me? You cruel sick monster, how could you do this to someone?" He held up his hand for effect, blood starting to show through the makeshift bandages.
    "You knew the rules Martin, and you earned your first strike. I must admit, normally I take an entire hand, but I recently acquired that knife and thought up a good use for it just now." He noticed Martin's anger and frustration. The man was getting desperate. Desperate men were unpredictable and stupid. "Do not forget. If you leave that bed. For any reason at all. You will die a most unfortunate death." Nemo reminded.
    Martin was losing it. His mental fortitude. His edge. He couldn't think clearly anymore. He needed to calm the fuck down. Nemo was getting to him. This was why Nemo never lost. He could tell that he was playing right into Nemo's hands. He began to take deep breaths. He needed to steady himself somehow, with the bloody rag pressed against his wounded hand.
    "Better." Nemo stated. "I wouldn't want you to have to lose something else that you like," He let the threat stand as he waggled his gloved fingers with one hand and held up Martin's missing digit in his other. The sick bastard. "Shall we begin again then?"
    "Sure. What else have I got to lose?" Martin asked, voice dripping in sarcasm and regret.
    "Very well," Nemo said with a little chuckle. "Where do you work?"
    What...I already answered this damn question. What was the man getting at? "...Neumata Industries...I work at Neumata Industries."
    "And what is it that you do for Neumata Industries Martin?" Nemo asked this as he set down Martin's finger. He took a calm and impassive pose with his finger tips resting against one another and his elbows resting on the arm rests.
    Martin answered him again, this time in great detail, hoping to drain out as much of the clock as he possibly could. He went into his back logs and every sort of possible work scenario he could think of. But he had to be careful. He couldn't talk about what other people at his work did or drag it out by telling him how he got there. Still. By the time he finished answering the man it was 4:25. His plan was working. He could do this.
    "Why did you have to stay late for work today?"
    Nemo can't be just asking these questions at random, he's got to be digging for something...can he really tell if I'm lying? It's not worth the risk, I only have two strikes left.
    Martin slid back in the bed. Resting his back better against the bed's frame and propped a pillow up for himself. Stalling was his best tactic. They both knew that much, and Nemo was beginning to look impatient. No rules against making himself more comfortable though. And I don't recall there being any rules about him taking his time to think the answers over either. Nemo sat in silence, waiting. Not even as much as the sound of him breathing. It was frightening.
    "I had to stay late for work because of a malfunction with some of the equipment I was using. I was not allowed to leave the building until they were sure that I was not the cause and did not purposefully sabotage their very expensive equipment. Something about the blood I was testing, a young boys of maybe..ten or twelve years of age, wasn't agreeing with the compounds we were supposed to use. Not a single damn one. I had never seen anything like it. I finally was about to give up I...I put the sample and this newer compound I had just finished working on into the transfuser just as the alarms went off and security came and herded us all out of the building. So I had to stay until I was cleared by them to go."
    Nemo stood up suddenly. Martin flinched. Badly. Nemo noticed of course but paid no mind as he began pacing across the room. A swift set of five steps had him to the window and another set of five had him back to the chair. So he was here for information after all. That was why Martin was not allowed to lie.
    "The next questions will be harder. The rule about lying will be removed from henceforth in favor of another," Nemo stopped his pacing directly in front of him. "You will have two chances to get the questions correct or a strike will be put against you."
    Martin was panicking again. This couldn't be fair! He could change up the rules to make the game go even more in his favor? He slammed his good hand into the bed with frustration. "You can't do this! You can't change the rules in the middle of..."
   Nemo shot forward in two rapid steps and cracked his hand across Martin's face. It was a back handed slap. The kind you would give a child that didn't know his own place. Martin was stunned silent. Nemo was breathing heavily again. Was that from his own anger?
    "This is my game! I create the rules for the game and you follow them or you die. Have you been so lost in your fear that you cannot realize all of this is only happening because I allow it to? You should have been dead hours ago when first I saw you enter your quaint little apartment."
    Yet another cold nerve chilling shudder ran down Martin's spine. He could swear that his heart had stopped and still hadn't picked up again. Nemo had been in his apartment...before he had even gotten here? Was that even possible?? "But I...but...no...that's impossible." Martin shook his head unable to believe such an idea. "Why didn't you start all of this before?"
    "Strike two, Martin." Nemo seemed to visibly relax as he said the words, while Martin seemed as if he was about to throw up. "During your little temper tantrum I asked you a question to which you did not answer. The game does not stop just because you wish it to do so. As long as the sun is not on my face, and you are not dead, the game goes on." Nemo walked back over to his chair, triumphantly Martin could only imagine.
    Martin gazed at the clock once more. 5:03. Time was still on his side at the very least. And if Martin had this game figured out as much as he thought he did, then Nemo would have to start the questions all over again since Martin had gotten his second strike. However, an additional rule would be added. And that couldn't be good news.
    "As I'm sure you are well aware, the second strike gives me the right to add an additional rule to the game. My rule is this: after I ask a question, you will have fifteen seconds to respond." A smile began to form on Nemo's shadowed lips. The noose was tightening. He enjoyed a game with the highest possible stakes. Even if the odds were very much in his own favor.
    Martin looked disgusted. He spat in Nemo's general direction, knowing it would never reach, but the insult was just the same. "Begin again you prick." Not exactly how Martin imagined he would brush up on his social skills. But there was nothing quite like a trial by fire now was there?
    "Where do you work?"
    The questions began flowing again, this time, with only fifteen seconds to respond to each question, he couldn't drag his answers out to shave off some much needed time.
    Finally he caught up to where he was before with the game. "Now, for the harder questions. The lying rule has been once again switched with the rule that gives you two chances. You have fifteen seconds for each chance."
    Good, that gave him at thirty seconds give or take to figure out the answers. Not a whole lot. But worlds better than a measly fifteen. He was still nervous. What kinda questions was he going to be asked? It could be damn near anything!
    "How did I get into this apartment?" Nemo asked while smiling.
    Shit, how the hell am I suppose to know that? I never even knew the man was here until he woke me up! I don't know...I don't know. I don't have time to think this over just think of something damnit!
    "The...the window! You got it in through one of my windows." Martin replied unsure of himself.
    "Incorrect. Last try."
    If i get this damn question wrong again. I die. That's it, the end. Use your fucking head Martin! That's the one thing you're useful for! Use logic, reasoning. Anything! Ok. You know the layout of this apartment better than anyone. How else could someone get in here? The ventilation shaft is far too small. No one but the scrawniest of kids could fit through there and this man was a good bit over six feet and by no means scrawny. So if he didn't come through the windows, the safest bet would have to be...the front door. Unless there's some hidden passage or hole that I've never seen before. But I'm not willing to bet with those odds.
   "You got in through the front door." Martin smiled back at Nemo for the first time all night. It set Nemo back in his chair.
   "Very good." Nemo popped his neck left and right. "Who sent me here?"
   Martin had been wondering about that very same question. Who would try to kill Martin? Who would want him dead? Martin didn't even know anybody! He didn't have friends.
    Something warm hit his leg. Martin looked over and saw the beginnings of sunlight arcing through his window. He could win this! Just a few more questions and he would win. He would live!
    "That's easy enough. It has to be Neumata Industries."
    "Correct again Martin. Why do they want you dead?"
    Martin didn't know. It made no sense. Martin was a nobody. Unless this was some sort of political scandal clean up it was to tie up loose ends. So Martin was a loose end somehow. It would have to have something to do with the incident yesterday. But what?
    Martin was running out of his fifteen seconds of time...he had to stall. Throw out an answer, even if he got it wrong it would still buy him some precious time to think. "Because I broke the machine at work." Martin sputtered out quickly before time was up.
    "Incorrect. One try left." Nemo began to lean forwards in his chair. The game almost finished. His prize almost won.
    The sun began spreading down Martin's leg and off the edge of the bed, it started creeping its way slowly, painfully slowly, towards Nemo. Martin would never make it in time. He had one last shot at this.
    "Because I did it. I won..." Martin smiled again, chuckled even. It was the only possible answer. All the questions about work. Why Nemo had been pacing around the room after Martin had told him why he had to stay late for work. Nemo didn't know the answer himself until then. If he really knew it at all. But Martin knew it now. The blood transfusion. It had to have worked. More than worked. Martin beamed with excitement. He stood up on the bed full of triumph with only seconds remaining.
    "Because I successfully transfused the boys blood with my serum. Because I made the first super-human!"
    The sunlight hit Nemo's face as he took a step forward. The game was over now wasn't it? Nemo picked up his sword and it glistened and sparkled in the gorgeous morning hues of the sun. "With what you now know, the world is about to change. You know the boy will be hunted. He could already be dead. Get the serum to him, I took the liberty of taking both contracts on you and him. Figured I'd come visit you first since he is just a boy after all," Nemo took a slip of paper out of a pocket that Martin couldn't hope to find. "But that doesn't guarantee that they did not take multiple contracts out on him." He handed Martin the paper. It had both his address and the address of a Vincent Carlson on it. "I know that I am a monster, and a bad man. But I am not without my good characteristics. I made up this game to make me feel alive, after a lifetime of death. And I finally found someone that could best me." He looked almost relieved that he was beaten. "Evil," he said as he drew the sword out of its sheath. "Is always bad, but sometimes it is necessary." He swung the sword gracefully back and forth, as if he were giving himself one last intimate moment with the weapon. Then he held it out in both hands with the hilt up and blade pointed in at his chest, and ran himself through.
    As he bled out he looked up and saw Martin, now sitting on the edge of the bed, feet touching the soft blue carpet. Martin watched him as he lay there dying, unblinking.
    "Your day's just starting Martin," he gasped with his final breath "That boy isn't going to save himself."