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Evolved A scowl came onto his face, as he drove through his last assailant. That made three, all of those who had attacked him, had been shattered in seconds. Broken, and hurt, the last began to beg for his life, planting subservient blood laced kisses on the shiny black leather of his instep. A swift kick shattered the entire face of the being below him. Jesse spun sharply, from the devastated bodies that were once kindred. They were powerful in their own right, and their cooperation was remarkable, but that didn’t save them. He left the scene of battle, his body folding into mist and spiriting away before he could be implicated in the slaughter. The mist reformed about ten miles east , resuming his usual shape, that of a fourteen year old boy. Slim, but muscular, five foot nine, with platinum blond hair and green ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ PROLOGUE MEET THE DEMON He kicked the door open hard, in a temper, it almost shattered the face of one of the wardens guards. The other three raised their hands to their guns, and they watched him closely, while the warden swiveled in his leather chair to watch him. He growled at the guards, and stepped towards the uncomfortable metal chair in front of the all too familiar desk. He was Andrew Mohr, a convict , had been for a good number of years. Dark brown hair, and light blue eyes, with muscles that had been thoroughly defined during his imprisonment. Andrew, more commonly known as Demon, because he kept everyone in the joint off of him, and fought fiercely. Standing at six foot three, perhaps about two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle. Andrew wasn’t sure of how he got the reputation, but it was said that he was a frequent rapist. Maybe it was to explain why he still hadn’t got a cellmate in the three years. “So butch...” Drew broke the silence harshly and sarcastically. “ the word on the block places you giving me some fresh meat.” The warden snickered, William, but he was either called Bill or Robinson, his last name. While the man knew his rep, the warden also knew that it wasn’t true. Drew was fairly sure the warden had his personal share of porn from real rapes due to the surveillance cameras. “More like making you meat. Your new cellmate is a real tough guy, his transcript says while he avoids fighting, he’s the strongest from the military prison. He’s a dangerous guy, who knows, he might even tame you..” Robinson smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching for Drew’s reaction. Drew shifted slightly, scowling. “You know I don’t do bottom, but I could stand a new bitch.” Drew flexed his muscles for punctuation. “Whatever you say Demon.” The rest of the talk went smoothly, and at the end, he was concentrating hard on the walk back to the cell. As soon as he got to his dank abode, he began to do something he hadn’t done in a great while. Drew began to go through the forms, as hard as he could, as fast as he could. If this man was half of what was said in the transcripts, then the Demon was going to need an edge to stay alive. CHAPTER ONE CELLMATE It had been two weeks since the fateful call to the wardens office, and the Demon had counted each one, practicing hard, and feeling good about it, Drew hadn‘t practiced his martial arts since he before was arrested. His cellmate was scheduled for his first appearance, it was said he’d show up around their time in the sun. Drew was excited, nervous, but excited. Instead of practicing or stretching, he just watched and waited, looking at the entrance to the area. Suddenly, the doors opened, and two guards led a slim man, in a crisp, new jumpsuit. The guy had short bleached hair, it must have been naturally dark, because instead of white, it was a copper color. He was very slim, if muscular, with green eyes, and they were looking nonchalantly over the courtyard. The boy, he was little more than that if at all, couldn’t have been more than twenty. Light tan, and probably somewhere around six foot, Drew couldn’t tell accurately at the distance. He was too stunned during the interview to hear much about the man, but this had to be the wrong guy. No way could he be too strong, the guy looked built of twigs for hells sake. He was chained hand and foot, and he watched the courtyard impassively, stretching like a cat as soon as the manacles were off. Drew shook his head. At this rate, the new guy would be taking before he even left the courtyard. The whistles from a good number of the others more than told that tale. The demon could practically see the drool streaming from other convicts mouths from his spot in the corner. “Hey Demon, looks like your new piece arrived.” A voice from a man he didn’t recognize brought him out of his thoughts. “You better hurry up though, those others aren’t going to wait long, hell, I could use a bit myself.. If ya don’t want him, can I have him.” Drew nodded absently, and walked towards the new guy examining him more thoroughly, with a frown forming on his lips. As he got within speaking distance, he said loudly, as to be overheard. “You must be the new guy. I’m your cellmate, Andrew Mohr.” Drew could practically feel everyone in the entire exercise yard watching. The new guy was the hottest piece that Drew had ever seen. This boy couldn‘t possibly be the most dangerous a military prison had to offer. It was possible that he might not be able to keep the kid safe, not with those looks. “You look like you could use some protection, I’ll be more than happy to provide it for you, for a price of course.” Openly eying the boy. It came as a surprise when the boy eyed him back, with an appraising eye, then smirked. “Nah, not my type, sorry Andrew, I’m sure you can find a nice soap tosser to satisfy your urges.” He patted Drew’s cheek gently, to show mock sympathy. “By the way, I’m Cyrus” He started to walk away, and he scowled. “Fine, don’t take a shower though, you’ll end up spitted on some nice mans dick. Probably a good number of men actually” Drew said it loud enough to be sure that everyone who wanted a bit knew the man was open. He heard chuckles, but the inmates never took their eyes off of them. “Yeah yeah, I’m not fresh meat, I don’t need to be anyone's bitch.” Cy spit on the ground. “And you’re all welcome to see why.” The way he said it, with no emotion, made the Demon almost shudder. He was starting to have second thoughts about this guy. For some reason, the mans denial seemed to have put an unusual damper on his good mood. He scowled. “That's what the first little piggy said, and he sure as hell got porked. Anyways, you look like one who‘ll grow to enjoy it, and for the third thing, if you‘re the toughest the military prison has ever seen, they must wear rainbow uniforms.” Drew said, as he walked away. “If the first little piggy got porked, at least I know who's the biggest porker around these woods, you look like the type that doesn‘t care what's under him as long as its got a place to stick the needle. I heard your last quilt was covered in a lot of fancy stitch work too, coincidentally, rainbows, bunnies and flowers. I think you have something you aren‘t telling us.” He retorted, leaning casually against the wall of the courtyard. Drew spit and simply walked away. The rest of the perverts took it as a cue. At almost the exact same time, they all began scrambling to the newcomer. He smirked, and slouched slightly, cracking his neck by turning it lazily to the side. As if he had all the time in the world. The first one got to him, trying to grab Cyrus. The man snickered as he spun out of reach, of course, that wouldn’t work again, there wasn’t much room in the corner. Drew smirked, but it slowly faded as he realized, in a corner, no one could sneak up on him either. Suddenly, as Cyrus ducked under a punch, from the second man, and a shoulder was roughly shoved into his gut by the smaller man, knocking him into the first. Cyrus looked ecstatic, on the balls of his feet with his hands up. Demon idly noted that the first man to reach Cyrus had been the one who called dibs. The display of skill had slowed the others slightly, and they were talking amongst themselves in different groups. Quietly, a group of four moved towards Cyrus. They came slowly at first, but then, all four began to run. The smaller man grinned, and just as suddenly, began to run towards the approaching fighters. At first, they paused, but the men just assumed that he was eager. Drew simply watched, certain of the outcome already. The closest, the one who had asked for permission, lunged for Cyrus with both hands. Cy simply, and in one swift movement, batted both hands to the side, and grabbed the man by the shoulders, viciously slamming a knee into the guys chin. He spun back smoothly, putting his hands up and on the balls of his feet. The first guy stayed down, and that slowed the other two down. Drew picked his jaw up off of the ground a hair ahead of the others. Cyrus was fast, really, really fast. The other two were slowly circling him. Drew shook his head. Intelligence wasn’t their strong points. At the same time, they lunged. Cy took a stutter step towards the one on the left while spinning to face the other. His foot slid back smoothly in a back kick to stop his assailant, while his hands shot out to grab the other fighters. The same foot pushed off of the first guys stomach. It planted itself firmly on the second guys chest as the first one fell. Cyrus rolled back, and tossed the man as far as he could, he landed about four feet away, gasping for air harder than the first. Cy put his hands on the ground, and flipped himself up. Three men were on him now, and a guy with huge arms and many scars, who was nicknamed Bubba, had his huge arms wrapped around Cy, so he couldn’t fight back, especially with his head tucked low to avoid head butts. Cy grinned, just barely grasping the fabric of the other mans jumpsuit at the knee, he jerked sharply just as he pushed hard off of the ground. All of their weight landed squarely on the man, knocking the wind out of him, but he’d be up soon. Drew grimaced, the other two were the Chan brothers. Hong and Han were both, identical six foot even and slim, with brown eyes and dark hair cut short. Both were accomplished martial artists, and very fast. The worst part was they were used to double teaming people. Drew considered stepping in. ‘First of all.. I’ll let him learn his lesson, after I save him, I’ll see if his opinion changed’. The Chan’s were in fighting stance, one on either side. Simultaneously, the brothers struck. Hong took the high route with a spin hook kick to the back of Cy’s skull, and Wen attacked with a forward sweep. Once more, everyone in the yard was astounded as the blonde did what looked shockingly like the worm to dodge both kicks and to get to his feet quickly. “And this is why I come here.” Cy said with a smirk, as his hands shot out and snatched a pair of punches out of mid air. “ready for me to fight back?” Cy hadn’t seen Bubba as he snuck to his feet, nor had he seen the punch coming, as a fist the size of a canned ham smashed into his left kidney. Drew looked away, that would have dropped even himself with ease. “My god, you puss, my little sister could trounce your bitch ass in a minute, and she’s like ten. What the hell is your problem.” The last word was stretched out, and leaked with double doses of sarcasm, twin screams of pain in voices drew could barely recognize as the Chan brothers. Andrew looked up, and his eyes opened as both of them dropped to their knees with what had to be broken wrists, at that angle, there was absolutely no doubt. Bubba had fallen on his butt in shock, and now was trying to scramble backwards in an effort to escape. “Get the fuck out of here, I don’t pick on skirts.” Cy grabbed the guy by his shoulder and threw him into the group. He turned and addressed the rest of the inmates. “Anyone else want some, I’ll even make you a deal, beat me and I’ll punk out for you, understand?” Drew couldn’t resist, he stepped towards the man. Cy smirked. “You again, like you could touch me.” “Now you want to get touched, a minute ago you’d have nothing to do with me,” Drew returned and the other guy just sighed. “We gonna roll, or are ya gonna talk at me till I’m bleeding, because if that’s the case, you need sharper words and wit.” Drew rolled his eyes, and fell into a boxing stance, hands up, right foot forward. Cy just shook his head, and jumped up and down on the balls of his toes once. Cy crossing his arms over his chest and frowning slightly, taking another estimate of Drew’s fighting potential. He smirked, and unfolded, both hands going forward, slightly bent, and open, but with palms down. Cy’s eyes were half open and he was swaying slightly, like he was drunk or something. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Anise Height: five’ four” Weight: undisclosed (hey she’s female, what do you expect) Eye color: violet hair color: silver age: 53 sex: female race: Elf occupation: Huntress weapon: Longbow, uses dagger close range weapon set: loyalty: hometown: Rhetsasid village, Great Western Expanse, north Empty Quarter section tribe: Armayet strength: fighting in forests, woods, mountain, etc; weakness: close-quartered spaces, such as houses, sheds, etc; History: Her mother was killed in a tribal battle, leaving her to her father. She learned to hunt at a very young age, her first kill was a Derad, or a tribal enemy, which left her with a broken arm and scars that will not leave her as long as she lives. She is loyal to none or few ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ DEVILOGY Characters Name Race Group Weapon Loyalty Legion Unknown Legion Unknown Unknown Morningstar Devil Sealed 13 Unknown Sammael Devil Sealed 13 Chain Unknown Mephistopheles Devil Sealed 13 Inferno Rune Unknown Azazel Devil Sealed 13 2Hsword Unknown Iblis Devil Sealed 13 2Hsword Unknown Deciever Devil Sealed 13 Bow/Arrow Unknown Diablos Devil Sealed 13 Unknown Cain Devil Sealed 13 Claws Unknown Asura Devil Sealed 13 Gloves Unknown Agrat Devil Sealed 13 1Hsword (Right) Unknown Mahalat Devil Sealed 13 1Hsword (Left) Unknown Shadow Devil Sealed 13 Sythe Unknown Solomon Demon Efreeti Hammer Morningstar Lucifer Demon Legendary 7 Mammon Demon Legendary 7 Asmodeus Demon Legendary 7 Levithan Demon Legendary 7 Baal Demon Legendary 7 Satan Demon Legendary 7 Belphegor Demon Legendary 7 Lilith Demon Vampire Medusa Demon Gorgon Pan Demon Minor God Naga Demon Neo-Demon Unknown Orbit Demon Neo-Demon Naga Breaker Demon Neo-Demon Naga Spins Demon Neo-Demon Naga Decker Demon Neo-Demon Naga Majerie Demon Neo-Demon Naga Bethanne Demon Neo-Demon Naga Michael Angel Saint Cole Angel Saint Johns Angel Saint Petyr Angel Saint Rade Demon Saint Julian Angel Saint ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Loud music played in the background, bodies writhing to the beat of the drums, and from what this blonde could tell, a pretty good guitarist. There she was, standing there, once unique, alone, even with her friends alone. Golden blonde, petite, with a tank top and snug fitting black leather pants, and high heels. Buffy kept her eyes on the lead guitarist. The man reminded her of one of her most recent lovers. One who had died saving her and everyone she loved. Consequently, he also took her entire town with him, but she was fairly sure Spike hadn’t meant to do that. Buffy frowned, readjusting the tote she had which carried her scythe. The music faded down, and he took his guitar off, setting it aside. He smiled at a random female groupie, and headed outside, with her in tow. Well, maybe the guitarist had more in common with her ex than she’d care to admit. Buffy started after the pair with a nod to her partner, Faith. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, come with a stake.” As she headed outside, and as the door closed, she heard the brunette say. “Tell me when twenty minutes is up and I’ll give ya something to remember me by” Buffy twisted the bag so she could open it if she needed to. A stake wouldn’t be of much use when she had this, but she couldn’t think of anything two slayers couldn’t handle. She walked outside, ready for battle. She came outside just as the guitarist walked out from an alley, dusting his hands off. “Still hungry?” She said, walking towards him, he simply grinned. The man looked tough, a good five inches taller than she was, wearing a tight, almost transparent black shirt, dark blue pants, loose, and held up with a belt, and very broad. “Another golden girl, so nice of you to join me..” The guitarist said, stretching lazily, shifting all the muscles in his chest, as if readying for a fight. “Before I take someone out, I usually want their name. I‘m Cy.” He lazily flexed his hands open and closed loosely, then tightening them till his knuckles cracked. She smiled. “My name is Buffy, I’ll be ending you this lovely evening.” She quickly unzipped her duffel, and revealing her weapon. The man had a shocked face, for perhaps an instant, then it turned into a chagrined look. “No kidding.. well, if that isn’t Irony. The original slayer, you know, I‘ve been wanting to have a few words with you and your friends.” Cy said with a smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, you’ll just have to settle for me.” She said as she stepped into a lethal spin with the blade, fast enough she could hear the wind whistle, since that’s all the blade hit. Cy had dodged with a very quick step back. “That is the best way to get arrested ever, how about you put the shiny metal away before you cut off your own legs and follow me up to the rooftops where we start from square one where you can miss even more.” The blonde continued as he turned his back on her and turned into another alley. She grabbed her discarded duffel and followed, it was either that or be left standing there. Loud cranks as the aged fire escape slid down to the pavement, her opponent was already all the way at the top, with a foot to keep the ladder from sliding up. He proceeded up as soon as she grabbed the ladder. He hopped the safety ledge, and she readied, in case it was a trap. As she ascended the final steps to the rooftop, she was surprised that this particular vampire had chosen to duel. He was clearly at the disadvantage, since he was unarmed, with his back turned near the center of the rooftop. He spun gracefully, with a beckoning hand. “Now, I’ll show you how it’s really done.” He gave a feral grin, and curled his hands into fists. She took a few steps forward, readying her scythe. Hers was just as feral as she ran towards him. She slashed low, he jumped. Buffy let the momentum carry her around for a second slash, Cy ducked under it smoothly. She caught the metal behind the blade and stabbed with the stake part, he grabbed it out of mid air, and tossed her through the air. She hit the roof hard, bouncing once before she got to her feet, and took a few steps back to kill off the inertia. This vampire was good, stronger than any regular vamp she ever faced. This one was different. Buffy took a moment to look at the man, her eyes widened as she saw him laughing at her. “And you saved the world.. They certainly don‘t make apocalypses like they used to. Tell me, did you really blow up a school?” He stretched again. “ah well, I’ll play with you for a while more before I get serious.” He started walking towards her. Buffy readied, focusing, forgetting everything else. As soon as he got in range, she moved as fast as possible, blade whirling through the air, towards his neck, missing because of a smooth dodge. She spun, dropping to a knee to stab towards his heart. As it seemed she hit nothing, Buffy tried to spin to her feet, but the scythe seemed stuck. She looked over her shoulder, and what she saw made all the blood run from her face. Cy was standing there, with a smirk on his face, and the stake grasped firmly in one hand, about a quarter inch from his heart. “My advice is you bring backup next time” The man said, Buffy tried to pull back one more time, before trying to ram it forward, neither had any effect. “She did big guy.” Buffy thanked her lucky stars, and waited for the guy to be dusted. There was a solid thump, and Cy moved forward just barely, but not enough for the stake to penetrate. Both slayers eyes widened at that. “What are you?” Buffy asked letting go of the scythe and backing away. As he spun, grabbing Faith and tossing her towards her companion with a grin. This guy was worse than Glory. “Ah, there’s the second one, any others coming.. yeah prolly huh..” Cy started walking backwards, before turning around and heading for the fire escape. As soon as he got there, he raised the blade, and there was a sound of metal slicing through metal, and then, as the fire escape fell, metal on concrete. “well, that takes care of that.” The blonde man through the weapon over his head, absently, it skidded almost to the slayers feet. Faith raised her eyebrow, looking at it. Buffy just stared. “Now then.” He dusted his hands off, as he turned around, starting to walk “Faith, right.. I’m Cy.. and by the way, did I mention that you people are too predictable by half. Anyways, this is the way its going to roll, regardless. Summers, you will be coming with me, and we can do it two ways, the hard way, or the easy way.” “That is so my --” Buffy started angrily, but his phone started ringing, and Cy picked it up, putting his hand up to halt them. His cell phone to the ear, he started talking. Her jaw dropped, and she stomped her foot. “Yeah.. yeah.. Jesse should be taking over for me, I’m leaving early. Oh, I‘m on the roof with two women, so don‘t call me, this is kind of important.” Cy chuckled. “It’s not what you think. Laters.” He slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Where were we. Oh yeah, just getting to the important part.” Cy started walking towards the pair, and Buffy smirked. She picked up the scythe. With a nod to Faith, and waited. As soon as the man got within range, they attacked at the same time, the first slayer swinging low, while Faith did a roundhouse aimed for his head. With an unamused look, his arm came up to block the kick, catching it. He lifted up his leg, and slammed it down just at the right time to trap the blade between the roof and his shoe. Cy tossed Faith aside like she was nothing, and drew back his arm. A straight punch put Buffy’s lights out before she could respond.. He started to pick her up, and just in time jumped over the low kick. He turned around with a sigh. “look, you’re outmatched, but I’ll give you my phone number, and you can try again, with more backup.” He pulled a card out of his pocket, and stuck it in the front of Faith’s shirt. She smirked, and patted his cheek lightly. “Not a chance.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Oooo, look at the new guitarist Dawn, he‘s kinda cute, and he looks about your age.” Willow said, sitting next to Kennedy at their table, her hair now a permanent platinum white since she started casting magic occasionally. “Oh and plus guitarists can do amazing things with their hands, they got these little calluses and ooh yeah.. you’re fourteen.” The witch said as a gentle elbow from her girlfriend reminded her to that significant fact. Dawn took a minute from looking around to glance up at the new man on guitar. He was even better than the first, and that was something. He was wearing a long sleeved black shirt, it was just barely tight, to hint at well defined muscle. He had short platinum hair, pale skin, and was probably just about five foot nine inches. His green eyes were concentrated on the strings as his fingers danced across the frets. Despite his age, he seemed a better guitarist than the man before him. Dawn forgot about Buffy for a second. Suddenly, there was a great crash, and something fell through the roof, and through an empty table. A crimson flash of light that was the scythe fell into the building. Willow suddenly stood up. “That’s Faith! Kennedy, go see what did that, but do not fight it.” The witch’s voice was different, firm and full of authority. She headed toward the fallen slayer. The rest of the once potential Slayers were around the fallen Faith, as was Zander, and Andrew, who had become an official Scooby. “She’s knocked out, but otherwise okay.” Zander said, quietly. “We need to get out of here before the cops and such show up. Girls, make us a way.” He slung Faith over his shoulder and started for the exit, the rest of the girls making way through the staring crowd. Willow shot a look at the entrance, to see Kennedy come limping back in, her eye starting to turn black. The witch rushed towards her significant other. “Are you okay?” She said, looking over the injuries, nothing severe, but it was remarkable damage for a person of her strength. Willow put her fists on her hips, preparing to lecture the younger woman, but Kennedy spoke first. “It looked like the guitarist, and he had Buffy, unconscious, over his shoulder. They got into a black car, I couldn’t stop him, and he isn‘t a vampire, whatever he is, a cross did nothing.” Kennedy muttered. Willows eyes widened, and she forgot the lecture. “Go with Zander, to the hotel, and tell everyone to be on full alert. Explain the situation, I’m going to see what information can be found out here, if he‘s in the band, the rest of them have to know about him, at least a name.” The rest of the girls, including Kennedy left with Zander, and no one remembered that a woman with an unusual hair color had been with the strange group that had just spirited away a body that had just crashed through a roof. In the odd silence, the witch moved with a purpose to the stage. She began thinking up a spell, silently weaving it around the band members, nothing to warp a mind much, just to get them off stage. Willow walked behind the curtain, just as the entire band began walking towards her. As they were just about there, the guitarist spun around. Something interrupted her spell, and the young boy told the rest of them to go back where they were, that he would handle it. Suddenly, his hair color snapped into focus sharply, as he turned around. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed, what a sharp young girl.” The young comment irked at her, and even with the half deepened voice of a fifteen to sixteen year old, it somehow reminded her of Giles. “Walk with me.” He said with a motion towards the exit. Even for someone just an inch or two taller than her, he seemed to have an overawing presence, a silent dominance. The pair slowly made their way outside, into the alley, total silence. Nobody said anything until they were in the park, about a block away. “How old are you..?” Willow asked, she was wondering, because of the hair color, he had to be a powerful wizard, but he was so young, despite how he acted. She wanted to know how many years he’d had in that state. He chuckled slightly. “Too old for you, I’m two thousand seven hundred and sixty-four, going on five, in roughly two months. It turns out, once you attain this state of ascended abilities, you cease aging. Had I known that, I would have waited till I was at least twenty instead of sixteen. Now I‘m a ball of permanent hormones.” He turned to look at her, with a smirk. “Besides, you’re not my type, we’re both gay anyways so what does it matter.” Willow was taken aback, both at his age, and his bluntness. Idly, she wondered how much this man in a kids body knew of her, at the same time, she realized why he reminded her of Giles. While the inside was turbulent, the outside remained calm. She lowered her eyebrow and said. “All those years, and not a hint of good manners. I believe it is polite to introduce yourself while first meeting new people.” Willow was amazed at how unruffled she sounded, but she was able to contain it, the witch realized she would need to make an impression to gain the upper hand. The boy smirked. “Come now, Madame Rosenberg.” He said dramatically, his voice taking on a severe Elizabethan accent as he grasped her hand, knelt to one knee, and kissed the bend of her wrist. “I am Sir Jesse of house Bathurst, may you give me the pleasure of being your courtier...kind of” Willow smirked, and gently put her hand under his chin, and in her most regal voice responded. “Rise brave sir, I give you the honor of allowing you to court me, more or less. Now rise sir knight.” She said, and he did, with a grin on his face. “Now, tell me, how much do you know about me, why, and how?” In a no nonsense voice, trying to use both her height and her older appearance to her advantage. Jesse smirked. “You’d be a fun person to go clubbing with, you try to be kind of bossy but you act like a smaller kid than I look some times.” And just like that, the boy transformed into a dusty historian. “ Willow Rosenberg, born to Ian and Shelia Rosenberg in 1982, Sunnydale, California. Severe detachment from parents. . Was shy in high school, but with extraordinary hacking skills made her an integral part of the slayer’s group. Best friends with Zander..” Willow listened intently, as the boy gave a remarkable account of just about everything major in Sunnydale, in a short time. Impressed at his memory, the witch smirked. “Ya know.. it isn’t fair, all I know about you is your name, your age, that you’re from England” Willow started, but Jesse interrupted. “Greece” “Okay, from Greece, but moved to England, and that you’re gay.” The witch said, hands on her hips. “I demand to know more about you.” This got a chuckle from the boyish entity. He stretched, cantering his head to the side just slightly. “And about the gay thing, I want details, the dirty.” She said, with a straight face, and he erupted in laughter. “One question.. What is it with you women and your all guy fantasies.” He asked. “What is it with you men and your all girl fantasies.” “I don’t have those anymore.. “Jesse chuckled, before he continued. “Anyways.. There is one bar in this entire city where I can get alcohol, but not publicly, some of its clientele are police instead of men in police uniform.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She looked at the inside of the place, a lot better seeming than the outside. Despite all the overly manly women, and the men in various shades of stereotype. Even as she stood there, it seemed the place was growing on her. Kept tidy by a slightly chubby middle aged man in a spotless white apron standing behind the bar and ordering around a few young men in uniforms that showed their muscles to their advantage subtly. Jesse maneuvered her to a door at the back, he opened it up to an empty room, with a few tables, and chairs, he took the closest one to the door. “And then, we were forced to go against a powerful witch who was trying to end the world.. and coincidentally had the slayer gene, which was revealed when you unlocked the powers within the scythe, at that moment, I became aware that you ascended to this next level.” The waiter entered the room. “The usual for you sir,” Jesse nodded “what for you Miss?” He asked politely, writing down water when the former red head responded, the waiter left. “So let me get this straight, you knew Plato, and your lover is a twenty four year old classified government experiment, whose life you twined with your own, and who can play the guitar, wouldn‘t that be kind of.. statutory rape?” Jesse frowned, shrugged and then nodded. “Technically, no, but most people won’t believe my true age either, so yes, but I conceal what happens. The other people in my apartment building think I’m his little brother.” Jesse shifted again. “Oh, and I almost forgot why I engaged you in this.. you just make me feel comfortable.. anyways, I don’t think you realized the repercussions of your actions.” He looked her in the eyes, currently like emerald knives. “When you altered the barriers which keep all women with the potential to be a slayer, you removed the set prerequisites. Before, they needed to be of a certain age, but now, when a child develops in the womb, when kicking, they’ll be kicking with the force of a slayer if they have the potential. Also, they heal quicker, so reason says that they’ll also develop quicker, which leads to more miscarriages and the parent being drained of her nourishment at an accelerated rate. Another point would be since every woman who has the potential is suddenly super strong, what happens to all the crazy women with the potential, what happens to all the criminals with that potential. You understand where I‘m going with this?” Willows eyes bulged, as soon as she wrapped her mind around all the possibilities. A whole bunch of murderers running around, virtually unstoppable. Jesse smirked, and as their drinks came, her water in front of her, and his vodka whiskey mix, in a whiskey glass in front of him. She intentionally reached past her glass, and straight to his. She drank the thing down like nothing. “UGh.. what is that foul stuff?!” She said, as she handed the glass to the staring waiter. He went to get a refill, and Jesse smirked. “Not water.. but anyways, now that you’ve considered the possibilities, lets put it like this. For lack of a better term, lets call us High Mages, that's what people like us were called in Greece.. anyways.. working together, I think we can set an age limit, and also a need to seek out a certain person as soon as that age limit is met.” Jesse grinned. “It’d be hard to do by myself, I’m barely strong enough magically to do all that by myself. Its a hard process, but together, it’d be much easier. This time, I‘ll handle the actual spell working okay.. Willow, you‘re a natural, and very good at what you do, but experience beats potential hands down.” She nodded, and for some reason, that irked a memory. “Your boyfriend, Cyrus, he was the guitarist right” When Jesse nodded, she smirked “Tell him I got a bone to pick with him. I assume he’ll be telling Buffy the same thing you told me, and getting her to go along, but he roughed up my best friend, my girlfriend, and my.. um.. acquaintance, so I’m going to paddle him like he’s a small child that’s done something wrong.” “I’ll warn him, but I don’t think it’ll do much” Jesse laughed “By the way, the scythe that is ‘hers alone to wield’ I believe it belongs to you, despite Buffy pulling it from the rock. That I‘m not sure of , its old, even compared to me.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Character Name (Last, First) Incarnations of: Number of Story Lines the character is involved in, the story line names. Appearance: What the character physically looks like, includes skin tone, eye and hair color, height, weight, defining marks such as scars or tattoos. Costume Scheme: The colors and clothes that they usually wear. Personality: What the character acts and thinks like. Race and Position: Species and Role in the society of each storyline. Weapon of Choice: The weapon that the character uses, sometimes a unique, one of a kind weapon. There may be a weapon for each storyline. This is set up in conjunction with race and position, like so. Storyline #1, Race, Position, Weapon of Choice Storyline #2, Race, Position, Weapon of Choice etc. Defining Trait: Every character has something that sets that character apart from the rest, that personality trait, plus a quote that relates to that trait are put here. Agustus, Claire Incarnations of: 1, Oscirio Appearance: Female, petite, looks young. Five foot seven inches tall. Black hair with no touches of gray, light blue eyes, flawless white skin, a little pale. Beautiful. Costume Scheme: Dependant on her mood. If in a normal mood, wears a frilly pink dress without her glasses, hair done in a loose braid, corkscrew curls, or something else elaborate, giving her the appearance of a younger woman than even what Claire usually looks. When in a serious mood, wears a simple black dress with her half moon gold framed spectacles, her hair up in a tight bun, managing to make her look older. Personality: Usually witty and humorous, just having a good time living carefree and talkative. Sometimes serious and closed, focused on accomplishing whatever feat required her to use her abilities. She is the most powerful sorceress in the Oscirian Story line, and is immortal. Race, Position Weapon of Choice Oscirio Human, Sorceress Magic Defining Trait: Experience “Eternity is a long time to live, especially since you have to live it alone. It helps to pass the time if I spend it in a book.” Aldwyn, Darius Incarnations of: 2, Oscirio, Raven Falls Appearance: Male, Muscular, appears to be in twenties. Six foot three inches tall. Red hair and wine colored eyes. Gold colored skin, encrusted with gems, blade-like bone protrusions at elbows and knees, as well as horns that are retractable Costume Scheme: Personality: Race, Position Weapon of Choice Oscirio Demon, Abyssian Claws, Horns Raven Falls Demon, Fallen Claws, Horns, Tainted Barakoto Allan Animus A'Than, Michael Baine Baptiste, Beatrice Baptiste, Bethany Baptiste, Julian Bathurst, Jesse Berch, Sebastian Black, Jill Blackjack Bones Breaker Charles Crowe, Abel Croy, Belle Croy, Carn Cunnings, James Daniels, Cole Daniels, Jager Daniels, Tomas Darkmoon Decker Diggory, Kade D'zaal Enders, Ethan Eyedee Gammadyne Giovanni Hatsuo, Harna Hatsuo, Sentai Howell, Dustin Howell, Samiel Joro Jueles, Crystal M. Ka'Bal, Miras Kaine, Edward Kosuke Kuzuko Machera, Akira Machera, Duece Majerie Maria McIntyre, Daniel McIntyre, King Metan, D'jinn Mimir Mordellyn Naga Na'Kai, Ren Nathaniel O'Malley, Luc Orbit Rade, Gabriel Rade, Loki Rahn Randall, St. Johns Rhapsody, David Roper, Bill Ryo Samuels, Richard Sezz, Simon Shade Sho-Sasuo Sigma Spins Stonerose, Mariyanne Sykes Tabbat, Alexander Tabbat, Cyrus Taine Thames, Mattew Theodore Thompson, Petyr Windblood, Enoch Zan Zone ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Creatures Abyssian- A class of demon from the deepest pits of hell, that is both rare and powerful. Scorned by even demons for their general foulness of character and lack of morals. They have no physical likenesses, but are generally humanoid. Objects Bone Tarot-A dangerous, one of a kind artifact. A deck of tarot cards, made by the demon Zagrash as a testament to his power. The cards are made of human bones, and ink mixed with the great demons own blood, before tattooing each card individually by hand over a period of days. Because the cards are made with a demon’s regenerative blood, they are actually alive and can therefore grow, but are not self aware. The cards often kill the user, and are prophesized to find a master who can bring out their entire potential. Amethyst Vision Dragon Gems Soul Jar Razor Lace Dragon Ink Quartz Needle Mordellyn Box Mercurius Ruby Loom Soul Venom Basilisk Sand Ygdrasil Sap Mark of the Dreamer Mountain Heart Star Mirror Angelwing Blood Chain Fighting Silk Demonglass Gemstone Forest Flute of the Deceiver Water of Youth Death Seed Grim Blossom Barakoto ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BLOOD RED SPIRIT Prologue Of Angels and Demons Fires ravaged the skies, the night itself was burning. The land, twisted and broken by stray ethereal blows that otherwise fell demons or angels. The stagnant air stirred for slowly flapping dove-like wings. Graceful, bloodied sandal touched down on the stained earth as his large wings folded gently behind his back. Majestic silver blade shining in the rapidly falling suns last light His once perfect light blue robe clung to his lean but powerful musculature, blood caked it to his pale skin, and colored it in hues of dark red or black in most places. The fine silver embroidery almost invisible now, and had the sash been gone, the rag would have fallen from him, the swords sheathe seemed more heavy at his waist now.. now more than ever. A shaky hand raised up slowly to brush silver strands away from searching light blue eyes. The tall angels blue eyes looked over the demon corpses, full of worry. A slight noise of flapping batwings behind him alerted the seraphim to another presence, and without an instants pause, he spun, hallowed blade raised to attack or defend with equal force. His eyes fell upon a demon. The demon was even taller than himself, and almost twice as broad at the shoulders with the hilt of a massive broadsword poking over his bared right shoulder at an angle. The demon had short flaming red hair, that seemed all the brighter due to the angels long silver hair. His eyes, a hazel, seemed perfect for the sun darkened skin. The demons hard leather armor had been long tossed away, after being broken in the fray of battle. He appeared unharmed, but scars of paler skin ran all over his body. There was only a tight hide shorts, frayed and deeply weathered, showing his legs to just above his knees. The small pair of demons horns poked from beneath the fiery bangs, perhaps an inch from tip to skin, with a muscular red tail curled three times around his waist, its three fingered tip gripping itself with the black claws retracted. Hazel eyes met Blue ones, there was no worry in the eyes, not anymore. In its place.. was joy. The sound of a sword entering its sheathe filled the air as the sacred steel was hidden in its dark sheathe. The sound seemed to have a decisiveness to it, accented by the night which was rapidly approaching. A pair of fast footfalls told the pair running towards each other, the malice or disgust one would expect from such opposite creatures wasn't there. The angel and demon were happy to see each other. As they met halfway, each wrapped the other in a fierce hug, both sets of eyes closing as they gave themselves to the embrace. The demons tail unfurled itself, instead taking its position around the angels waist, only deepening the lovers embrace. "Is it over Michael?" The deep voice came quietly, in little more than a whisper, from the demon, who had opened his eyes and was watching the man in his arms. The angel, Michael turned his head, but still let it lay on the demons chest. "I am the last angel. When I die.. there will be no more angels. Are you the last as well Loki..?" Michael asked as quietly of his love, it was a sensitive subject.. there had been much death that day. Neither of them liked the fact that their races had all but killed each other. "No..there is one other.. a female by the name of Majerie. " Loki said quietly, not moving an inch from his love, whose crystal eyes were searching Lokis now. "Will you leave me now.. and bear children with her to bring your race back? " The voice was not yet hurt, worried, but not hurt.. Loki gave a slight smile.. "No.. Nothing could pull me away from you.. " At these words, the angel gave a smile, and his grip tightened slightly at the sign of loyalty. "I think you should.. " These words would be hard to say for the demon, but he could bring him self to push them from his lips. "mate with her." In his arms, he could feel the thinner angel stiffen in shock of the idea, but before he could speak, Loki continued. "Listen my love.. no human could possibly bear your child.. nor Elven.. of the intelligent races of earth, those two are too weak. Possibly a draconian female could birth a half seraphim.. but that's it.. and.. if the child was half demon.. I would feel if it belonged to the both of us.. instead of just to you." His own words sounded childish on his ear, but Michael simply relaxed and smiled, kissing Loki gently on the lips. "Are you sure you want this?" Michael asked gently, molded against his bigger lovers body. At the nod, the angels lips met Loki’s, and stayed there as instead of the battling tongues that came with pure passion, they gently rubbed together in the angels mouth. It left both in need of air, but as they both pulled back, their bodies parted, albeit hesitantly, Both were flushed slightly, but it only showed clearly on the paler man. "I have already informed her of my plans.. she agreed and is waiting in a small cave in the mountains to the East. " Loki said gently to his lover, who extended his snowy wings and flew with the westward wind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blood Red Ring 1:Characters A} Duece Machera Appearance: Short blue hair, normally just left to its own devices, or sometimes spiked up. Clear blue eyes with flecks of grey, as he matures through the story, they will change, going from the easily told emotion of a country boy, into that of near emotionless state. He starts out lightly built, and that to matures with the story line. Wears generally nondescript clothes, until he becomes a mercenary, where his clothes get finer. E}Princess Erinn Appearance: Long blond hair typically done up in a complex braid, but sometimes a tight bun with little loose hair, so it keeps out of her eyes. Blue eyes that, despite her young age, can be firm, or insightful, keeps a rein on Baine, is the only one ever noted to do so. Wears white gloves that go about an inch past her shoulders and a white dress that covers up her slippers, which have been designed to travel over rough road. Weapons: five foot staff with a crystal tip Abilities/Skills: Strongest known magic user. Race: Sex: Female Occupation: Princess Age: 9 Height: 4’3 Connection to main character: Meets during rescue part. Role: Main Character Nationality: Attitude: Gentle at times, and stern during others, rarely gets angry, likes to play tag. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Metal slamming against metal, echoing in the near abandoned gym. Speed, and strength blended with technique in a dance of blades. Of course, they were only practice swords. A blow just barely missed a fine wool coat, black with silver embroidery and the two fighters backed away from each other slowly. The younger of the two, black haired, and cut short to his scalp, maybe two inches of black hair. Green eyes that had seen a mere sixteen winters sized up the older man, holding the practice sword, carefully, one handed. He had only a shade of a tan, and was slim, with a build that often made people underestimate both his strength and skill. He hardly looked sixteen years, and he hardly ever had to shave. That irritated him, and played apart in his loss of concentration. The older man could have been boy, added a good many years. Broad shouldered, with his black hair starting to gray and a bit longer, with the same green eyes, and wearing the very same suit. Black coat, with dark blue shirt and pants, all with silver embroidery. “You’ve got to be joking Michael, you’ll never get anywhere with those skills. If you want to bring honor to the family name, you‘ve got to get better.” The older man said, holding his sword in both hands in front of him with a smirk. “Of course, it could be that style you’re trying to create. Why don‘t you give it up and go back to the way you were taught.” “Yes father,” Michael responded turning around slightly, and wiping sweat off of his neck. There was an instants warning of the attack. Michael raised the sword, grasping the blade, his fingers arching as if to avoid the edge. Metal struck metal. Just over his shoulder, almost shattering his collarbone, only by his strength. He grinned over his shoulder at his father’s shocked face. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current Characters: Naga, part thunder demon, part poison demon, part human (demon sides most prominent) Michael, part thunder demon, part poison demon, part human (human side most prominent) live on different continents, very different circumstances, one of them is a lord, and the other is a slave. Each show abilities considered far above their station, but are looked down upon generally because of either their money or their descent. Someone in the shadows is manipulating the pair towards each other in an effort to discover which of the pair plays the true part in prophecy. A second tries to kill them. HINT: Make all characters look, act and seem as different as possible. Have all histories figured out as far as possible. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Quotes and random things until I can figure everything out: -“Look.. I think I’ll explain myself just this once. I woke up, was almost stabbed, dodged a bullet, and was attacked by a fuckin plastic plant. All in all, I’m thuroughly(maybe mightily) pissed off, so I suggest you take this threat on your life seriously, because these bullets ain‘t exactly friendly” -Giant flaming stone skull crashes into radio tower -Animus is really a large wooden puppet, not a small six inch black ragdoll, there are also red, blue, orange, green, brown, purple, and yellow ragdolls. They serve to Gather information for Animus and be her front. Not quite as strong as her, but significant. -a character flies up the stairs, cutting them in half with a sword (?) in an attempt to kill another character -I need a admiral character, also a pirate -Zan and Sigma work together, there will be more, Sigma protects a seal, and has information on some of the other ones. -figure out what the seals are for. -Although Zan gets all the claim, Sigma is almost equally a good fighter. Generally the protected are weaker but can use healing magic, as well as the protected (for lack of a current better title) are usually female, as well as knights and protected are thought to be lovers. Sometimes true and frequent focus of stories and tales. -cloud jumping is a mode of transportation for air based non-thunder demons -untainted princess is a chapter, about a pair of ancient lovers, the female of such stopped aging at twenty one, the male of such transformed into a type of demon quadruped. Despite the love that can never physically be, they still wish to remain near each other. Female is the most powerful witch, not counting animus, and the demon is very very strong. Hard team to beat. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Red Circle He could almost feel the wounds that were inflicted upon the stranger before him. Bound to a bed in a seedy hotel room, with all of the mans clothes missing. An embarrassing way to die, but most likely that hadn't been the guys last thought, more likely the gag had been. The media would have a field day, and that was what he wanted. The police were none of his concern yet, the fools hadn't put together his murders, but hopefully they would soon. He stepped back to admire his work, neatly skinned and scalped, the skin peeled back with a knife and pulled from the muscle and bone. The muscles of the left bicep had been split neatly in half, and the ribcage and spine had been removed with medical precision. The victim hadn't bled to death till he started on removing those bones. All of the organs had been pickled in jars, and rested about the room in what might appear to be in a ritualistic pattern. It was more of a style than a religion though, and the kill had been to teach. As the killer began to turn, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror, light blonde hair and blue gray eyes. Slim, with a light tan, and much stronger than he looked. Lacking for clothes, as to not to leave bloodspots on them, and from the blood caking his arms almost to the shoulders, it had been a good move. He was of middling height. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't ugly. He wouldn't stick out in a crowd, he was average, but he had been made different from any other average person. Scars decorated his body, harsh treatment from the man he referred to as his father. The man that had broke him and remade him, and taught him to kill, his only outgoing talent. As he suspected, and desired, the two eleven year old boys had watched in fascination and curiosity of the nightmarish scene in the hotel room. The horror and fear that should have.. would have been there a bare three years earlier, had been drained out of them, they bore an ungodly number of scars, from the long process of draining their bodies of fear, horror, guilt and sympathy. Teaching them to kill, like he knew. The killer grinned as he picked up the two knives he had used on his victim. He threw both knives to them, and as he anticipated, they snatched them out of the air.. part of their training. With a gesture to the corpse, he grinned almost normally, and said a single word. "play," and they did. Watching the boys carve up the carcass brought back such warm memories. Memories of his father teaching him the very same things in the very same manner. He hadn't gotten around to teaching them how to break others, but that would come soon enough. The man could still remember the faces even years later, when he and his father paid a visit to old friends, friends that had been thoroughly broken decades before. The look of fear unchecked seemed to permeate their faces, and they did anything wanted, were afraid to do anything. Sometimes, there wasn't even fear, those who just did as was wanted, the broken ones who simply wanted to please his father and later him. The killer couldn't decide which he liked more. The noon news announced what time it was, he was about to shrug it off idly, when something caught his ear. "Just in, the recent murders have been deemed serial killings, it is advised that all travel in groups, and be inside before dark. Report any missing persons immediately." He smiled, and changed the channel, to the next news station "New evidence links the recent murders, and the killer is thought to be a religious extremist. The police recommend not to travel alone if at all possible, and not by dark at all. Keep all windows and doors shut and locked tightly. " He changed the channel again. Each station had a bulletin on at the very least, stating the same news in as many different ways as he could imagine, but they all said the same thing. He could not have been more ecstatic, and the gracious newscasters had even provided him a name. The American Ripper. Something to start with, but he could change it later, in fact, he had already decided what to change it to, but that was for the next slaughter. Ripper turned to the kids. “Samuel, Tybalt, time to wash up.” The two boys looked up from their play, innocence personified, even more than waist deep in blood. They climbed from the mangled cadaver ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Danny Heneghan Period 4 Simple Game The heat of the night was stifling, even in the normally air conditioned office. Tonight, the air conditioner was broken, but in a few hours, it would be back, otherwise the patients would be restless, like she was. The gentle whirring of the ceiling fan seemed at odds with the sharp clicking of the computer keys. A dim glow from the monitor lit the otherwise darkened office. The room was neat, everything in its place to the centimeter. She used strictly not an inch more of the space than was needed, everything being close at hand in a corner near the door. Even the floor was meticulously clean. Sweat rolled down her forehead, she, was Lauren Klein growled, as her search met another dead end. Normally, this wouldn’t have phased the psychiatrist, but the unusually hot summer coupled with well over sixty broken leads was beginning to grate on her nerves. The loss of sleep wasn’t helping either. Lauren idly picked up the pencil and crossed out another item on the list, the last, she knew without looking, but the quick glance at the paper confirmed her suspicions. With a sigh, she set the pencil down and returned to her starting point, a file on a peculiar patient. She began scouring the information once more. It must have been the seventh time that night, and she almost had the entirety of the contents memorized. The patient was Simon, a wretch of a man, who under different circumstances, could have been more than handsome. Luxurious dark hair, if dull and damaged by the industrial strength soap that was supplied the showers of the asylum. His eyes were dark brown, and would have been striking had they not been almost perpetually in fear. He was tall and slim, and had somehow managed to acquire a decent tan, how he pulled that off when locked in a cell most of the time was beyond her, even without the straight jacket, it was doubtful that it should have been possible. Simon was like any other patient in the asylum, fundamentally at least. There were a few major differences. For once, he was the only patient whom lacked a known past, or anyone with any real ties to him. The second was the urban legends that sprang up around the man. Odd rumors about saying his full name brought death, but luckily, that had been quashed, but the others still were well known. Now, only four people knew that rumor, and two of those reported to only her and her boss, the fourth person to know the rumor and the only other one to know the truth. The third thing, was his resistance to sedatives. She had witnessed him take sedatives that should have knocked him out, and remain standing, unfazed even. Lauren had seen Simon stay awake, under the influence of sedatives that should have killed him on the spot. The last was his illnesses. Simon seemed to suffer from severe paranoia, and schizophrenia, or Multiple Personality Disorder. The real oddity about it was that his predominant personality was scared of the submissive one, and of nothing else. He was scared that his other personality would take over, and he insisted that the other personality was real. It wouldn’t have been odd if the paranoid personality had been afraid of everything and anything. She tapped her chin in thought. The submissive personality was a complete opposite, which was normal, fearless, not even reckless or cocky, but devoid of fear. Instead of cowering in a corner, or pacing, he simply stood, calm and dignified. She had spoken to him when he was like that. When Simon was calm, he was even more logical than she was. That was a feat in itself, but his talents extended far beyond that. He was a genius, when he was legible. The man had dunced her and a dozen other so-called great mind, when all six of them were in the same room, and all at the same time. It was astounding! Sometimes he was a blubbering man with a below fourth grade intelligence, and the next he was a valedictorian from every Ivy League school and more. Simon was the greatest puzzle ever created, and Lauren meant to pick that puzzle apart and put it back together any way possible. The only real problem was the frequency of the second personality. It only came once every few days, and only a few minutes at a time. She glanced down at the note, another part of the puzzle. The personality only seemed to come when the man reached the REM stage of sleep, and Simon stayed awake for days upon days, even after being sedated to near death. Everything about the man was impossible. A knock sounded at her door, freeing her from her reverie. Excitedly, she stood up and hurried to the door. Only two people would dare disturb her when she was working, and there was only one reason. Simon had fallen asleep. She paused, hand on the doorknob as she heard an odd scrabbling sound.... and whimpers. The psychiatrist opened the door. A white mound tumbled into her legs, knocking her down. Instinctively, she looked at it. Simon was gripping her legs, his straitjacket unbuckled. “He’s coming.....He is awakening.....Stay away!! STAY AWAY!” The madman shouted. In her shock, she blinked, and suddenly she was in her chair at her desk. Out of impulse, she looked down. A few dark hairs stood out of her otherwise spotless white uniform. She frowned and brushed the hair off idly.... a puzzle indeed. She must have dozed off, but it would not hurt to check. The doctor stood up and strode quickly from her office. In the space of a few minutes, she had covered the entire length of the large building. Se was about to open the door to the guard’s room, but one of the guards opened it first. She looked into the face of Louis. He knew about Simon. “Why doctor? He’s fallen asleep, Senorita.” Louis said, frowning. “I was just going to get you.” He was a big man, muscle-bound with a golden complexion, due to Mexican blood in his veins. His brother, Samuel, also a guard at the asylum, was the fourth person to know the secret. An odd thought struck her. “Louis, I want the sleep logs of Simon in my office ASAP,” she said sharply, and he nodded. She hurried to the cellblock. She really must have lost track of time. Louis and Samuel had twelve-hour shifts, so that Simon would be under full time surveillance. The pair had moved into a cell each, for a ridiculous raise, overtime, and no rent as well as free food. Lauren hurried, swiped her security pass into the slot next to the entrance to Simon’s cell. She twisted the handle as the light above the door turned green and the buzzer sounded. There he stood. “Why Dr. Klein, you’re a few seconds late. Has some other guest of this white walled wonderland captured your attention?” Simon asked with a knowing grin. “No matter, my strength allows you time to spare. I am stronger every time we meet.” Lauren frowned. “Tell me Simon, do you have another riddle for me?” She asked, folding her arms under her breasts. He let out a chuckle. “Straight to the point, as always, doctor. Time I weary of this game.” For once he sounded weary; “My full name will offer you a few more leads. Only the children and those who lack fear of it can speak my name without retribution, from the true one of the two, the one whose name is remembered in such a simple game.” It hit her harder than anything else did. “Simon Sezz” she blurted out, and he smirked. Lauren suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the spark of triumph in his eye. “Well done, doctor. Soon my hunger will be satiated and my strength will return,” Simon said. He began to laugh, his head thrown back. She stormed out of the cellblock, past the guard station, as she spotted the other on-duty guard. “Tell Louis I’m going for a walk,” she said coldly. Even in her anger, her voice never heated. She took the most direct route to the main entrance and left the building. She had been walking for about fifteen minutes when her stomach reminded her of the missed meals and tasteless asylum food she had dined upon as of late. Lauren could only think of one place that would serve food at the current hour. She crossed the street, wondering about the legends. A horn cut through her thoughts, and she turned, her nose was almost touching a very mobile city bus. No time to move, suddenly something slammed into her back. The wind was knocked out of her as she was slammed against the wall of a building. Alive....she was alive. Lauren turned to face her rescuer. “I told you not to go. Why did you?” Simon was blubbering at her knees crying, words coming out that were impossible to hear through the sobbing. Suddenly, he stood up and fled. She turned to follow. “I feast,” came a very familiar voice from behind, she spun to face Simon. Her world exploded in pain. Everything seemed to slow; Lauren saw the bullet as it swirled the man in front of her into mist. She knew she was dead, it had passed through her left kidney. Lauren’s eyes shot open, and she glanced around the room frantically. It took her a full minute to realize she was in the hospital. “You’re very lucky,” came a gentle voice. Her hearing was fuzzy, but she thought it was a man’s voice. She locked her eyes onto the source of the sound. The doctor said, “A second later and you wouldn’t have made it.” Her eyesight was fuzzy; she closed her eyes, to try to blink it away. That was when she died. Sarah wiped her eyes, brushing away the tears that fell. It had been two months since the doctor at the hospital had killed her sister. In her weakened state, the allergic reaction had killed Lauren instantly. She glanced out the window, to spot what she thought looked like the strange dark haired man, Simon, standing in front of her daughter in the front yard. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Artifactor Phantoms Balaen= Welsh for steel, denoting strength and durability. He walked down the street. due to the hour it was empty. The windows were drawn and would not be opened till broad daylight, the fear of seeing something that would make a witness out of an ordinary person. There was just something weird within the city that gave everyone a cynical nature. He almost wished it hadn’t changed from what the history books said it had been. The crime rate was probably a bit higher, but at least it had been recorded back then, and the police had been somewhat competent. He pulled the light jacket around him tighter. For spring it was getting awfully cold. His eyes widened as he saw his breath mist. Suddenly, his world erupted in razor sharp pain. Cutting past the shock, breaking past the disbelief, obliterating his reason. He couldn’t even scream in pain. It felt as if frozen needles had been forced into his brain. He succumbed to the icy dark. It was calm there. Johns didn’t even remember opening his eyes. He didn’t remember closing them either. He had been in darkness, and it felt as if everything had been changing around him. After what felt like a few seconds, he had suddenly been in the greenest field of flowers he had ever seen. Everything was vibrant, full of life and color, and yet.. There was something strange about it. As a slight cooling breeze drifted so comfortably through the warm field, he noticed something. While the plants moved like an ordinary plant, they sparkled and shined like gems. He looked around, never, in all of his life had he expected to see a place as green as this. The red was more vivid than he could dream of, or any other color in the field. “You must be Eric Balaen.” A mans voice came from behind him, he spun rapidly, staring at the man. Tall and willowy, with platinum colored hair and silver eyes. It only got stranger from there, the man was clad in rich blue silk, embroidered in black, depicting the clothes he saw in his history textbook, clothes from a good few thousand years ago. “You have been quite the topic of conversation as of late, due to your unusual circumstances.” He spoke as if this was matter of fact, and Johns knew his confusion must have showed on his face. “Who are you, and where the hell am I and what the hell are you babbling about?” Johns said angrily, his memory was foggy. The man couldn’t remember anything before the darkness, and the cold, but slowly it was coming back to him. Someone had knocked him off the roof of his building, and the pavement hit him hard. It was black after that. “To your culture, I might be considered the grim reaper, but the Norse had it closest when they had the battle maiden myth, except usually we are male. My name is Rade, and technically, I am referred to as a saint, at least by other higher life forms. This is the afterlife, for you, this would be your limbo, and I’m babbling about the circumstances of your death. Your soul was forcefully separated from your body by a powerful demon by the name of Naga. When your body and soul were separated, Naga forced a seed inside of your body. You were buried three days ago, and in another twelve hours, your soulless body will rise again to obey the demon. Your body has been dead for a week.” “Sorry friend, but you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m Johns ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they are trademarks of . Will contain some spoilers, and a minor OC who will probably show up in every single fic of mine in one form or another. A/N: Well, I’m in the mood to try something different, sort of. I’m going to try to work backwards, and telling me your opinions will generate mass amounts of happiness regardless the result, coz damn these winters are cold, flames will be welcomed with bill reductions. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The summers heat seemed to marinate the room in the heady smell of used arousal. It was a great chamber of a newly minted palace in a young country. A country made after the divine ruler was vanquished by a friend of the spirits and two very different men, both soon to be kings. Where Cathena once stood, an even greater country had been pulled from the ashes. The symbol of great change, honor, strength, and knowledge. The current, and first king, once prince of an abolished monarchy. Kharg laid there, in his brothers arms, and thought on all the change that had occurred. The change he and his friends wrought by defeating the divine ruler, the rebuilding of what was now his kingdom, and the revolution that had truly changed his kingdom. Defeating the enemy that came after the divine ruler, had been just as important. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kharg sighed, as the newly revived Council of Cathena continue debating in the rebuilt chambers. The rest of the once great town hadn’t yet been brought anywhere near its former splendor. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~