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Bloodlines

I gaze into his eyes, holding back this wave of fear that is threatening to overtake me. He continues to gaze back. No fear was present in his abnormally soulless, heartless eyes. He senses my terror, my distress...my trepidation. I could feel his hate for me emanating from his enkindled eyes. All those times I slipped through his hands, it's all coming back to me. The locks have broken. My body then went cold and numb, as if rigor mortis had over taken me, yet my soul burned vigorously as his gaze penetrated this mere shell of skin like a toothed blade. Each second his malicious smile would grow, causing that blade to twist and ebb within my skin. My soul. I'm so cold. I've been embraced tightly by the chilling, paralyzing arms of fear. The longer I stare into his demonizing eyes, the colder I become. He steps forward and I involuntarily slide back with a slight quiver. His stare seemed to siphon all my strength, all my hope and replace it with a feeling so...so painful I could not begin to describe it. The only word that can begin to describe this unnatural, unnerving feeling is fate. I was actually afraid of this man, because in the far reaches of my mind, I knew I could not beat him and if I tried, my attempts would be, at the very least, futile. My breathing became stifled. My vision was starting to become blurry. I felt like dying. He administered all these thoughts of my inevitable demise, utilizing only the power of a rather simplistic weapon. A powerful, fervent gaze...

Tori's heart was pounding heavily as Torcher with a brilliant, toothy grin that boasted unbridled contempt and malevolence, advanced slowly toward her, beaming into her eyes a crippling gaze of strong belligerence. The flaming gape of his soul-searing eyes disheartened her so immensely that everything in the room had seemed to vanish into a sable, swarthy nothingness. The walls, the floors, everything that was once assuring and encouraging had been violently ripped away and replaced with deep, disturbing world of a twilit hue. Only she and the superior, almost unbeatable Torcher were present in this world. Fright circulated through her, paralyzing her even intoxicating her with such a powerful pain, she had no choice but to succumb to it, after which, her emotions, her reflexes were no longer hers but the marionette strings Torcher bounded her by. The longer Tori stared at Torcher, even taking those inadvertent scampers backward, her trepid eyes still meet with his keen, heated ones. After realizing the fear he'd forcefully but successfully injected into her, Torcher decides to reason. "Tori." He harked, causing her to scamper backwards into the living room wall, "Please. Just give me the diary. I really don't want to have to...hurt you." Tori closed her eyes and embraced the book tightly as she slid her back against the cold wall. "No Torcher. You won't get this book." She boldly retorted with a quiver, "It was given to me by my parents to protect. I WILL NOT LET YOU HAVE IT!!"...

~I will not let you have it...I will not let you have it... ~ Tori cried as she tossed and turned throughout her bed, tangling and entwining the jade satin sheets. The once neat patterns of her finely crafted cot refreshed and designed with powerful Japanese aesthetics had now become a snarled web of tears, fear and fabric. Tori found her trapped within the only place she thought was a haven from the dreaded Torcher. Her mind was disheveled in powerful nightmare; beads of sweat slithered down her chest and forehead colliding and merging with themselves as they made their way hastily to the awaiting sheets below.

~Oh really, is that how you want it? You dirty little girl... ~ Marc mumbled unconsciously as he tumbled blindly over the small ridges and hills made of cover. Deep within his dream, he says with a toothy grin, ~Bend your back a little more...that’s it. Like that...~ Obviously, he’s having one of ‘those’ dreams again. Even the untrained could tell this as saliva started to roll from web of his mouth, over his cheek and down to his pillow like a malfunctioning faucet. It is indeed amusing, but it was his dream. Unfortunately, for him though, the line connecting him to his fantasy female was about to be suddenly disconnected. The sounds of Tori’s tear-laced lamentations could be heard far off from other side of his. He subconsciously reacted to it by lazily rotating his battered body halfway in the bed, his head dragging askew limply on his neck from no more than the force of rotation from his lower body. After transitioning weakly, he halted drowsily once he found a new position his tall, long body could smoothly conform to. Also, when he halted, his head dropped to the drool-saturated pillow with a sticky and wet sound. It was comical at best. He now lay in deep slumber facing the ceiling with closed eyes as he rubbed the peach fuzz stubble interlaced with saliva that lined his tan chin. He sighed sleepily and rested his hand by his side as he fell deeper into sleep.

A few seconds ticked by unnoticed on the old and decaying brown grandfather clock that rested silently in the living room. Everyone was still asleep and Tori rolled painfully in bed. She releases a cry that was brimming with pure anguish as she tightly and closer gripped her pillow, almost tearing asunder. This cry provoked an immediate surge of awareness in Marc’s mind as his eyes shot open, revealing weary bloodshot oculars. He shifts them timorously, as if calibrating them once more before rising up to a tired hunched sitting position even cracking a few bones and joints on his way up. He leans his neck to one side and then another, both times garnishing a loud responsive crack and stares into the dark void of the room that returned his analytical and impertinent gaze. With a deep, gaping yawn and a quick back scratch, he mutters tiredly with upper eyelids woozily floating half above the lower ones, “I coulda sworn I heard Tori just now.”

He lifted his right hand to scratch the back of his neck, paused and dropped it out of sheer laziness. With no further ado, he fell back in bed, unable to maintain that subtle alertness. Then, a feminine cry encompasses his ear which causes them to twitch instinctively with interest and understated fear.

“Oh crap.” He lamented throwing the sheets from his legs by rushing to the door with newly excavated drive. He could tell where it originated by the gold ring of illumination from the hall that laced the door. Marc swung open the door, causing it to release a weak breeze that chillingly awoke him more as it caressed the small beads of apprehensive sweat that saturated his bare chest. He trudged loudly to her door with heavy steps trying to intimidate what he thought was an intruder as he called,”Tori!!!” along the way.

Marc’s lonely calls of concern, his stamps of inexcusable loudness and Tori’s cries of woe and torture are caught be every ear throughout the house awakens just about everybody with the exception of the weary Brandon, sending them into what seemed like a subtle twilit whirl.

“Damn man...what’s wrong now?” inquired Larry as he brought up Marc’s side. Tow doors opened as the walked passed and out of them came following was the voluptuous vixen Jade and the little illustrious intimidator Lea.

“Tori!!” The girls, along with the high soprano Marc, cried. Marc’s shrill nonetheless, masculine voice was more distinctive than the others were. “Tori!! What’s wrong?!?” He averted his inquisitive gaze to Jade and asked, “Why can’t we just open the door?”

“Even though your cries my concern her, sad as it may be, they will be struck useless because Tori doesn’t respond when she sleep. Even if she was sleeping lightly still trapped within this dream she keeps having which just callously claws her apart from the inside.”

“Jade!! Lea!! Somebody please help me!!” whines the suffering Tori as she whips around in the now half-covered bed, trying with all her soul to expel herself from what she saw as a hellish nightmare. Everyone in the hall freezes as they stare at Tori’s door as if to destroy telekinetically it with a amazingly concerned gaze. “We’re coming Tori!! Hold on!!” declares Marc as he exchanged a glance with them. “Let’s get moving people!!” Everyone picks up and runs for another meter to the door. Ironically, even though Marc had devised a plan, the hectic group tended not to follow as shoulders, hands and even Larry’s face were pressed against the door as they did everything but burn it trying to get to Tori. The only response to there efforts they received was Larry yelling indecipherable expletives and moans of misspoken, mispronounced words of agony from Tori.

“What do you think is going on Larry?” asked Jade as she slammed her small body against the door administering to the back of Larry’s head a small keen elbow.

“I don’t know, but dammit...GET OFF OF ME!!” He pressed his hand against the door and pushed off, taking with him the brigade of mindless yet concerned teens.

“Damn people! Act like you all have some sense!! Can’t we just think our way though rather than attempt to break the door down!?!”

Then an unnoticed door off to the left opened. “Who could that be?” asked Lea. Her question was soon answered because within seconds, out of the void that was the guest room slowly walked the unnoticeably perturbed Bee rubbing his left eye with the neap of his index finger in a slumberous fashion. With blurred and hazy vision, gazed upon the blobs of colors and sizes that he could interpret was his friends, family and the newcomers. He took four foot-dragging steps to them. His ears began to beat with the scrawled clutter of noises that were complaints and calls. “Guys.” He bellows with a deep sleep filled voice, his eyes bloodshot red.

“Brandon? What are you doing up so late?” asked Lea as she turned to him with a questioning yet innocent face. He reached out his small hand and pushed Lea out of his way causing the crowd to split into their own factions. He then tiredly wrapped has hand around the gaudy golden knob of the mahogany door and simply twisted it to the left and the right. With no force at all, he nudged the door and it slide open, revealing Tori laying in her undone bed, trembling lightly while firmly embracing a damp pillow. Bee then turns without a sound and walks back to the guest room. “Thanks...um...Brandon.” Lea stuttered out as Bee continued with a tired gait to his room. He angrily slams the door behind him before mumbling lowly, “Use your brains next time will ya?”

Thanks to the ingenious Bee, the door swiveled open squeakily on its hinges. Nothing stood between them and Tori. “Uhhh….Tori?” Marc inquired as he sauntered deeper into her room. Upon entrance, one would become no less than transfixed upon the work of art that was Tori’s bed which resided about ten steps forward from the door. Tori’s bed is finely crafted with an oriental aesthetic as the endings of the emerald railings at the head and foot of the bed tapered of into an upward hook-like décor. The comforter which was now on the floor was a soft red and the sheets were a light green. On each side of this tapestry of sleep-ware were average, yet seemingly invisible windows equipped with jade drapery and matching Venetian blinds. She obviously kept them squeaky clean as no spots were noticeable on them. A short, yet rather long dark brown six-drawer dresser equipped with a mirror that could be noticed as soon as the door was opened rested far up the left wall adjacent to the bed. The handles were crafted to resemble gold. The crafters only succeeded in making a gaudy, nonetheless impressive door knocker look-alike. Lastly, in the bottom right corner of the room, which is beside the dresser, was a small probably forty year old chair. One could infer this from the chipping wood and the loose bracings at the bottom of it. Oh, and a ceiling fan so average in creativity, it would go easily unnoticed.

Marc absorbed all this in one take, but was too worried about Tori to ask who the interior designer. As he proceeded deeper into the confines of her room, he could feel the sweat that was palpable in the atmosphere caress his face like a damp morning mist and the smell of anguish and turmoil began to circulate through his nostrils. Larry, who was still near the door along with the group, turned and whispered to them, “Let’s move people.”

“Tori!!” Marc yelled as he vigorously nudged her back and forth. “Tori wake up!! You’re having a nightmare!! Wake up!!”

As Marc began to nudge her harder, the idle minded Tori strongly backhanded him across the face, sending him flying straight to the floor. After the feeling scraping the pain of Marc’s incisor shoot through her left hand, Tori abruptly threw her seemingly sealed eyes open.

“Hey Tori.” Marc said caressing his sore jaw, “You were having a terrible nightmare. And you smacked the hell out of me too.”

Tori looked around the room at all of her friends. They stared at her caringly as they all began to crowd around her. “Tori.” Jade said as she sat down on the bed beside her, “I’m guessing you had that dream again right?” Tori lie in bed panting heavily. The oh so obvious answer to that question kindled Tori to do no more than shift her red eyes to Jade and back to the ceiling fan.

“What is she talking about Jade?” Asked Larry as he approached Marc, took his hand extended from his long arm and lifted him to his feet. “Every few days Larry, I have this dream. This time it was different.”

“How so?” Asked Jade. “This time it was detailed. There was blood, gore, all of that. This time Bee, Larry and Marc were ripped apart before my eyes. And of course, I was forced to watch it repeat itself.” A glistening tear made its way softly down the side of her already dampened cheek. “It’s over now okay.” Jade assured.

“What the hell is going on here Larry?” asked Marc as he rubbed his gums, inspecting them for blood. “It’s a girl thing obviously. We should just leave it alone.” responded Larry with arms folded regally over his less than muscular chest. “Besides, she’ll tell us in the morning anyway...Marc!!” Without a doubt, Marc was busy making his way over to Tori. “Marc!! Don’t interfere you fool!!” whispered Larry with a raspy voice. Marc didn’t heed Larry’s warning for he continued to blissfully march to her.

“Tori.” Marc called softly. “What did you dream about specifically?” Tori’s eyes shifted to him and remained transfixed in his. “It was nothing Marc. Don’t trouble yourself over me. Please.”

“Tori please I want to know. I want to be a friend. C’mon. Let’s go to the den.” Marc suggested.

Jade looked to Larry and back to Tori. “Tori, really, take a load off. Let’s go talk the night away. K?” Tori only smiled as she rose from bed and made her way to the den.

“Marc, this isn’t right. I feel as if I’ve missed something.” Larry elbowed and uttered worriedly to Marc as he swaggered past him. “You’re missing Jade, kid. That’s all.” He retorted with a toothy smile.

They all enter the den and take there awaiting seats correspondingly. Tori took residence beside Marc on the three-seater couch and Larry and Jade on the love seat.

“Okay Tori, tell me what’s on your mind.” Marc said, resting his arm over her shoulder and rocking her softly.

“Marc. This thought is not a thought. It is the thing I pray doesn’t become a reality.” Tori pauses, sighs deeply and slowly turns her bloodshot eyes to her right causing them to meet and entwine with Marc’s auburn half-open eyes. This dream, I always have. Everyone that gets close to us, close to our team...is killed off by them.”

“T.D.H I presume?” Added Larry. Tori responds with a positive nod. He looks to his weary hands and clenched them tightly before responding, “They just don’t quit.”

“It’s okay Tori.” Marc assured rocking her softly once again. “It’s just a dream. If it does happen though, we’ll be here for you. Right Larry?”

“Yeah. We’re here for you. Stop it Jade!” Larry said removing Jade’s over-fondling hand from the neap of his neck.

“Marc,” Tori called with in a soft harmonic tone, “Can you tell me more about your uncle Asher?”

Marc was staring deep into her dark hypnotic eyes and didn’t even notice until the last syllable of her inquiry was spoken.

“Asher,” Marc said as he looked to the ceiling, trying to gather the lost recollections he’d locked away in the trunk of his ever fluctuating mind, “He was a good man. He was really kind to Bee and I, especially around Christmas and birthdays. He didn’t make a lot of money, but he kept the house going somehow.”

“Wow.” Tori lowly exclaimed. “What else did he do?”

“Well, I can’t remember much before my tenth birthday. But after that, we were living the good life, or what we thought it was anyway. Like I said, he provided. He was the backbone of the house. In a way, he’s my role model.” Marc said with a sliver of embarrassment present in his ending tone.

“We were raised by our aunt, Olivia. Our parents never had time for us so they gave us to her. For some odd reason, she’d never been married or anything like that.” Tori added.

“I wish our life was like that. We still had it, but I just wondered how Unc did it all. He was at least fifty-six years old and already had grey hair on his face and scalp. He was small man with an average build. Less bulk than me actually and I’m pretty frail myself. Some nights Tori, he’d leave the house and go somewhere.”

“Where do you think he’d go, Marc?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. But everytime he came back, he talked less and less. He was...” Marc thought, rotating his hands, as if to dig the words from the air. “He was changing...transforming. He wasn’t himself. Every April 15th, both my and Bee’s birthday, he’d shoot us this glare that would scare us to our souls.”

“Wow. How did you get over it? And did anyone else visit you and Bee?”

“I...I couldn’t.” Marc bemoaned with a sigh. “Tori, it was horrible. It’s just how Unc looked at us the whole day. His face was twisted. He looked disgusted at us, at our very existence. He just scowled at us the whole day. Every birthday of mine was like that. No one came but him and he was the only one that gave us gifts. Only three times did a family, which consisted of a man and a woman, showed up. The years they paid their visits were, I think, 1996, 1997 and 1999. The last visit in ‘99, a little girl and a little boy who were there’s of course tagged along. The girl looked to be about six and the boy was about ten. I was eight in ’99 so he was two years older than me.”

“You were born in ’91, so you’re eighteen now right? This is odd.” Jade said, taking Marc by surprise. She, along with Larry and Tori, were hooked to his life story like a gullible fish to a dangling lure.

“Why is it odd Jade?” Asks Marc.

“The age of the girl perfectly coincides with the age of Tori and I.”

“It could be just a coincidence, Jade. I mean come on, these two have never met. I’ve known Marc all his life and I’ve seen with a few girls, but not Tori. I can assure you.”

“I mean but look, Larry. Her parents know his parents. Who’s to say she just can’t remember, right Tori?”

“Probably. But still, it’s been to long now to try to remember. Ten years is a long time people. Continue Marc.”

“Okay then. Like I was saying, the man and woman, whom I never paid much attention to went with my uncle to the kitchen always and discussed something rather loudly each time. The first time in ‘96, they talked about me and my brother a lot. The second time in ’97 was wild. The man and the woman were yelling mad-loud at Asher for something. It all arose while they spoke about my father Omari. They didn’t visit in ‘98, but in ‘99 they brought the kids. This time they argued about...nothing. All I kept hearing was, ‘You’re far! Please tell!” Maybe something else but back then, I didn’t really care. It was so crazy, he forced them out. But before they left, the parents of the two kids gave me this page of words I couldn’t understand. They told me to keep it with me at all times, but it was stolen so long ago. Anyway, this day was also different because Asher didn’t scowl at us. He had a crazy a** grin on him though. Later that night he-Your father was Omari Styler?” Tori interjected shrill as she rocketed from the couch.

After regaining himself from the other side of the couch, Marc nods affirmatively with a hand over his thumping heart.

“Marc, my parents know him very well. In fact, he was the one that led the group of excavators to the Light Crystal! Oh my God!” Tori spoke in the fashion of a preppy school girl.

An expression of wonder etched itself onto Marc’s face as he asked, “Can I read that diary sometime?”

“Sure! But hold on, I got something else to say regarding your family and mine. Your uncle Asher was second in command of the group. Omari led a pack composed of my father Altair, my mother Patricia, his girlfriend Olivia, his advisor and longtime friend, Eon and Eon’s girlfriend, Adeline. My mother wrote the book just so you know. But anyway, I want to meet your father! My mother wrote in the book how he was so brave, courageous and stuff; he seems like a very recognized man. ”

“He’s well......kinda dead y’know? He died a little before I was born. But my uncle Asher and him are twins. I still have some pics on my celly if you want to see.” Marc said despondently as he returned to a calm mood.

“Wait...Tori, what was your brother’s name?” Larry asks as he sits back in the love seat with a smile twiddling his fingers calmly.

“His name is James Moore. And sadly Larry, that’s all I know about him. The only thing I can remember about him is that he used to protect me when I was smaller.”

“What happened to him?” Asked Marc.

“He was captured, held for ransom and killed. It happened in one night. It was so fast Marc.” Tori lowly admitted.

“Wait, hold on here. Marc you didn’t get to finish you sentence earlier.”

“What?” Marc responded lost.

“Tori, when was your brother taken?” Jade asks, quickly whipping her head to Tori with a inquisitive gaze.

“At...” She paused and looked over to Marc with a gaze of discovery. “At... 7:20. It was April 15th 1999. Marc, Jade has a rather accurate point here. Are you sure your uncle-No he did not kill your brother Tori. If he did, he would not have been able to handle the guilt. Even though he hunted...”

Larry, who was sitting in the couch with his fingers connected and spread out like the feathers of a peacock, was thinking powerfully about the whole situation. “Marc. The correlation here is too great to deny. I have to admit it my man, but they have a decent point here. Your uncle looked kinda crazy to me anyway.”

“Hey, shut the hell up okay? Besides, Asher wouldn’t do something like that. I know it.”

“Larry, it wasn’t his uncle it was Friezell.”

Marc and Larry look to each other, their eyes connecting with gazed that asked, “Who the hell is Friezell?”

“Friezell is quite truly the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s stronger than Torcher and is the true leader of T.D.H.”

“Why do you refer to him as a thing?” Larry asks.

“He’s not human. He’s like this creepy black liquid that can take the form of a human. It’s indescribable.”

“Wow. Friezell huh. How’d he get that retarded name?” asks Larry.

“My father and brother knew it when it attacked us. I have to admit something.”

“What is it, Tori?” Asked Marc as he slid closer to her.

“This thing, Friezell. It didn’t stop with my brother. You see, when he took my brother, my father tried to protect us. He lost his life dying for his son.”

“Wow.” Marc gaped. “That’s well...something there you know?”

“The only thing my dad did for me was sent me to a private school. b*****d.” Larry added as he looked to the window with a deep scowl.

“Cheer up Larry, you have us now.” Jade adds as she begins to stroke his hand.

“Yeah, Tori. Have no fear, Marc is here!” That statement causes Tori to laugh a bit. “We’ll just beat Friezell like we did his little cronies, right?”

“Yeah.” Tori says despondently as she looked away.

“I mean it Tori.” Marc promises with promising eyes. “We won’t lose this fight. This Friezell will get what he deserves.”

“Yea, I hope so.” Tori says almost incredulously as she returns Marc’s gaze.

A few seconds later, she feels a vibration in her pocket. It is soon accompanied by a ringtone that sounded reminiscent of an old 90’s track. “Hold on Marc.” Tori requests as she pulls the cell phone from her pocket and stands. “Be right back okay?” Tori said as she rose from the couch and shuffled down the hall to the phone which was on its last ring. Her phone resembled Marc’s Motorola Razr except of course, it was jade.

She picked it up, opened it and read the number. “###-###-####” It read oddly.

As she returned to the den, not taking a seat though, she asks, “Who is this?”

A bland yet mellow male voice responds, “I think you know who this is Victoria Moore.”

“You. What do you want?” Tori retorted with a sneer that begged the attention of those in the room. They could see the fear in her face as the voice continued to talk.

“Have the diary when we get there and no one will get hurt okay? Especially Marc.” He responds softly.

“Look at him. He can’t fight us right now, can he Tori? Look at everyone else. They can’t beat us simply because they’re too weak.”

“You b*****d.” Tori whispered as she turned around and walked hastily into the kitchen. “Why are you doing this? I thought I told you at two! It’s one fifteen!!”

“I just felt that if I wanted to get I want, I’d have to hold something of yours. Now listen to me Tori, have the book when I get there, if not, I’m going to do something very drastic okay?” He responded threateningly.

Tori glances cautiously into the living room to check if everyone was still sitting. “Okay. I’ll have the book when you arrive. But promise me, don’t hurt my friends. Please.”

“Tell them I’m on my way. Right now.” Torcher commanded.

“What? Why?”

“If you want them to live, you’ll do it.”

Tori slowly walks to the living room and stares at them all. Her uncanny action and her worried face garnered a question from Marc. “What’s wrong Tori? Telemarketers?”

Tori swallows hard and breathes a dry breath before asking, “Marc, what would you do if Torcher were to come here right now?”

“I’d have no choice but to fight him. Why?

“He’s on his way now. He’s coming for the book as we speak.”

Over the phone, a weak giggle that grew into a raucous laugh could be heard clearly. Before departing, Torcher asks, “Would she lie to you Marc!? HAHA!! *Click*”

“What?! Are you serious?!” Both Marc and Larry exclaimed as they shot up from their positions.

“Listen, that’s all they want from us. You don’t have to fight them at all. Please Marc, just let them get the book.”

“Hell no!” Marc responded as he rose from the couch. “You said that book has the location of the Light Crystal in it remember?”

“Marc, that thing doesn’t exist!” Tori exclaims.

“If so, then why did our parents search for it?”

“I...”

“I thought so Tori. I know it exists somewhere. My father wouldn’t waste his time looking for something that isn’t real and neither would yours! We must keep that book Tori, for our sake!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me man. This is some bullshit!” Larry lamented as he walked to the door.

Marc turns his eyes to the clock and asks Tori, “How long?”

“Ten minutes at the most” Tori responded with a sniffle.

“WHAT THE HELL MAN! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?!?” Barked Larry as he quickly walked over to Tori.

“I don’t know.” Tori replied almost silently. Larry, not satisfied with his almost inaudible response, reinforced louder than before, “WHY?”

“LARRY!!” Marc thundered loudly above Larry’s rather deep yet shrill cries. “Okay Tori. Listen to my voice. Do you hear me?” Asked Marc calmly as he kneeled in front of her.

“Tell me. Why you are doing this?”

“Friezell. He promised me my brother for the book.” She whispers forgivingly.

“What?” Asks Marc.

“That day, when Friezell came. It promised me my brother for the book. My mother managed to stop it by muttering some line from it. Friezell promised this day would come and it has. I have no other choice. I’m so sorry Marc.”

With a sigh, Marc looks to Larry before saying, “Larry, go wake Bee. Jade, go get Lea. We aren’t going to go down like this. I mean it.”

“Marc, do you realize what’s going to happen? When Torcher gets here, they’re just going to turn on her too. You can’t trust him for anything, and plus we don’t have enough time to think of anything.” Larry adds as he walks down the hall to Bee’s room.

“Just wake up Bee and get him, now!” Marc commanded rather imperiously. He knew Larry was right but he wasn’t about to roll over and die either.

“See, I knew we couldn’t trust her. Because of her Marc, we are going to die. I mean look at us man! We haven’t even recovered, and furthermore—Damn man I know!!” Marc interjected strongly as he turned to Larry with cruel eyes. “Just do what I say man!!”

Larry looked at him angrily and turned around mumbling under his breath, “Crazy a** is gonna ******** die one day soon.”

“Okay Marc.” Jade said walking from out of Lea’s room with its somnolent owner. “Now what do we do?”

“After Larry comes back with Bee, we will mount a defense.” Marc declared as worriedly paced the floor carpeted, sometimes breaking from the routine to glance timidly through of the Venetian blinds.

“Marc.” Jade called as she approached him, “I’m so sorry, I had no choice but to go along with this as well.”

“Jade, I don’t give a damn about you or what you have to say right now.” Marc retorted as he treads the floor, fearfully trying to think things through. Clearly this is why he left the thinking up to Larry.

“Marc. There is nothing we can do in this position but run. And I know you’re not going to like it but that’s just how it is.” Larry suggested as he returned from the hallway with Bee in hand.

“Okay.” Marc said with a plan brewing in his jaded mind. “This is how it’s going to work: just protect the book at all cost and try to live to see tomorrow.”

“Marc.” Tori bellowed silently. “I’m sorry, but...I can’t let you do that. They want the book as well as you two.”

Larry looks to the powerless, troublesome Tori with inquisitive eyes that warranted a much needed response. ”Don’t you think you’ve caused enough trouble?! What more can you screw up?” He asked as he trudged slowly and maliciously toward her. “Tori, look at what you’ve done to us! You’ve going to get us all killed! And for what, a long lost sibling who is probably a corpse rotting somewhere?! Pathetic!”

Tori opened unlocked her damp eyelids revealing the crimson eyes of a desperate nostalgic female longing for that which may be lost for eternity. Her scorned, confrontational gaze struck a nerve in his mind which caused him to step back fearfully. “Larry, shut the hell up!! You don’t know s**t of what we’ve been through do you? I’ve been running all my life from them!! I...I had to give in or else my mind was going to break.”

“Tori, that’s not justification enough to give us to them!! They could be lying, playing your dumbass right in front your blind eyes!! And you going to believe them!!” Larry retorted shrill, steeping back into her vindictive face with eyes of acrimony and breathing patterns of someone lusting for an altercation.

“Larry, you know what?” Tori asked as she backed Larry towards the door. “Go to hell, I wish they were here right now. In your condition, they’d kill you too.”

Suddenly, the lamp that rested on the table flickered once then twice and failed altogether. The house then fell dark and frenzied cry echoed through the blinding darkness. Next in the line of unexplainable events was deep noise that was heard from the outside of the house which silenced them all. It was like a sonic boom, but deeper, redolent to the eminent sound of a violent crack of thunder. “Whoa!!” Bee said leaping back reflexively. “What was that?”

“I don’t know. It caused an EMP though, knocked out everything electrical around. Wait right here.” Larry said before walking stealthily, nonetheless cautiously to the window adjacent to the door. He took his index and middle finger, slides them between the blinds slits and pulled them down. It was then that his eyes caught a sight that would render him silent.

“Larry. What do you see?” Jade asked as she inched toward him. “Yea Larry. What is it?”

Larry, with a quivering staccato voice responded, “Man, if...if you seen this...this s**t right here man.”

What Larry saw was lightning, but it wasn’t exactly as it seemed. This form of lightning ran through the clouds, never once making an attempt to leave its atmospheric abode. Many quick and spontaneous rounds of emerald light caressed there eyes as they watched inquiringly the sight that seemed to be nothing but an ordinary electrical anomaly. The serpent-like lightning that lined the many grey seemed to be making its way downward in flashes. It came closer and closer to the ground and stopped altogether. Everyone stood in silence as the whip-like reverberations of thunder lined the airwaves, demanding their full attention. The tension contained within the room could be cut with even the dullest of kitchen ware.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Marc asked impatiently breaking the silence before he treaded heavily to the window.

“No Marc wa-WHOA!! Get down!!” A tremor swept the ground. It was so powerful that pictures were shaken loose from the nails in the walls along with an antique clock that broke as soon as it hit the linoleum tiled kitchen floor. It quaked them all from there feet and sent them to the floor. It may have held them but the shockwaves of the tremor made them question the ground’s constitution. But just like the lightning, it stopped. Nothing was to be felt or heard anymore.

“What in God’s name is happening?!” asked Larry as he rose from his knees to look out the window once more. He looked at the floor and noticed that all the shadows were becoming elongated and following them was a cascade of light. Larry shot to his feet with curiosity judging his reckless actions. With no care of what was on the other side, he peeked through the blinds, letting a powerful illumination seep through. He pulled a string that caused the blinds to rise. He gazed into the column of light that threatened to blind him indefinitely. This light brought back a deadly memory which caused him turn and run toward all that he could see provided the seemingly astrophysical illumination.

Within the seconds he utilized to turn tail and run to his teammates, behind them the quickly notices that the plaster covering the walls were melting. The apparently guided blaze traveled quickly from the walls to the ceiling and even to the floor. The window burst throwing shards of burning glass everywhere. Larry leaped forward as the floor was quickly blasted from beneath his very feet. After he landed, he noticed that they all were silent and staring at something. “What’s going on?” He asked. Marc, Bee and the rest of them pointed forward to an unseen object. Larry looked over his shoulder and saw what had everyone so transfixed. Much to everyone’s dismay and astonishment, half of the house was forcefully razed from its constitution and viciously blasted to the side by an unseen force leaving a melting residue around the edges.

“I think they’re here people.” Larry, stating the obvious, rose from his feeble position on the floor.

Marc quickly caught then turned to Tori with a stare of pure hostility and incense. She returned with a gaze of indifference that, behind it, rested a nestled sense fear and remorse. Deep down, they both knew it was inevitable. There meeting was too articulate in timing and placement. It was nothing but a well-executed setup. Upon Marc’s face rested a twisted toothy grimace while upon Tori’s was a gaze genuine sorrow and penitence. Treachery had consumed them like the darkness of a growing void. They all knew, each and every one of them, that it was imminent and trying to prolong it would be utterly futile. Although their alliance was no less than temporary, they quickly grew fond of the others companionship, maybe even more. It was all to obvious that Tori wished it would've been different in another life, to enjoy one another in contentment and peace, but in the sad and crushing reality it was a heavenly dream never to come true. Marc on the other hand lost all care for her and let his fervent emotions manifest and seize control of his entities. It revealed itself in the form of a simple, yet meaningful motion. With a sneer, he simply looked away from Tori. Even he knew it was too late, all their efforts during the course vanished like a morning's fog, the damage is done and just like the mysterious book that Tori was about to freely hand over to Torcher, it was already written. A single tear flowed from Tori’s eyes and rolled down her already damp cheek. "Marc……” She said, glancing to the book and dropping a tear upon it with a pause. “I'm sorry.”

A soft, powerful voice then projected forebodingly, “Marc. Are you ready?”

Marc responds with a tightened fist,” Torcher!! Show yourself, now!!”

“Okay.” A fireball which was aimed for Marc’s face is ejected from the light. Marc, with dulled sense and reflexes, throws up a hand and blocks it but at the cost of falling backwards to the floor.

“Yes. I am, Torcher.” Tori responded rather willingly.

“No. Tori don’t do it!!” Marc whispered timidly, eyes shifting between him and his teammates. Marc’s body, for the first time in his life, was paralyzed by fear. His greatest enemy, Torcher had finally caught him. Torcher loomed portentously in the center of the ominous, nonetheless heavenly illumination. Marc could see now, weather it was from tortuous mind-bending fear or unavoidable acceptance that Torcher, on this day, was going to be the messenger of his untimely, yet raw and agonizing death. With his power withering and dead drive to react, he seals his eyes tight, lifts his tired arms defensively in front of his face and awaits the soul-siring inevitability of his all too apparent fate.

“What?!?” Marc could clearly hear Torcher scream. “Tori, do you not want to see your brother?! Do you want to die tonight?! If so give me the damn book!!” He demanded with a dauntingly stern voice, an extended arm and a fiery, anticipating hand.

With a protective yet restrained face, Marc cracked one eye slowly and glanced through his arms to get a gander at what was developing.

Tori had the book buried in her arms as Torcher slowly began to walk unrelentingly to her with an obviously displeased or more so pissed glare.

Marc opened both eyes wide began to quickly limp to Tori with his right palm facing Torcher. ~I knew you’d come through Tori. ~

“Okay, I tried to be nice to you Tori. But it has gotten me nowhere.” Torcher admitted as his outward hand formed a hostile fist embraced by the blue wavering tomes. With a falsely remorseful tone, Torcher jests, “Sorry it has to end like this Tori. And I really enjoyed chasing you too.”

Tori slowly inched back, not showing any sign of releasing the book unless her soul was untimely torn from her determined, nonetheless quivering body.

A familiar call is the uttered off to the right. “Soul Grenade!” Marc yelled as he formed his signature attack in the palm of his battered hand. Within seconds a small green flash struck Torcher in the cheek causing him to do no more than flinch slightly. With a rather annoyed grimace, Torcher slowly turns his blazing eyes in the direction from which the blast came. He angrily and unfocusedly scanned the area repeatedly, searching for who shot such a pathetic blast. Once his eyes slowed from shifting violently, he caught Marc in his sight and cocked his head in amazement.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any weaker Marc, you surprise me yet again. Hold on, I’ll kill you right after I’m done with this b***h here!!” Torcher retorted demeaning. He looked to where the trembling Tori once stood, but was greeted with her much unexpected and unnoticed absence. Much to Torcher’s disappointment, his target had weaved through his fingers again. With no hesitation, he quickly shifted his detestable glare to the battered Marc who had limped away like a wounded animal.

“Why Tori, why?” Torcher inquired, giving incense to his fist, causing it to ignite brightly. He continues, “Havoc, find and kill those two!!” throwing his burning right hand forward in an advancement signal. Havoc, from nowhere rode in marvelously on a quickly melting sheet of ice he was creating while in motion. After circling around Torcher, he lands to his right and awaits his orders.

“Havoc, get Hazard. Now!!” Torcher demanded powerfully.

“As you wish, Torcher.” Havoc responds before bowing vehemently. He then looks around and remember just where Hazard is.

“Hazard.” Havoc bellowed calmly as he looked over his shoulder into the center of the illumination, “Cool it with the light and come on. We have work to do.” Hazard lowered his grand luminosity to its normal level revealing his electric form again. With a cartwheel and a backflip, he lands left hand to Torcher and responds with a fervid sense of bloodlust, “Ahhh, time to kill again I see.”

“T.D.H. Shadow Dragons...” Torcher calls, raising his hand above his shoulder, “ATTACK!!” They all went in to attack and following them were what seemed to human-shaped shadows. These are soldiers to others but to them they’re simply called Shadow Dragons.

“Okay people.” Larry just about moaned as he turned lazy eyes to his band of backups. Bee, Lea and Jade rested on the south wall of the house. They made their escape after Marc and Tori brought them a little time. “Are you ready?”

They only nod. They knew that even if they were to run, they’d have to fight anyway. They looked to him, remorse and fear evident in their eyes. Larry’s eyes, even though they were half open, sheltered the same remorseful gaze but hid a plan that would take careful placement to work. With a nod, and a glance around the corner, Larry commands, “Let’s go!!” With heavy steps that echoed with fear, they trudged into battle...

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It’s getting hard to follow him. The first time, a simple talk, the second time, a verbal murder, the third time...God no. I wonder how Torcher and those fools do it. It’s truly no less than a conundrum. Friezell...you’re foolish man. Why didn’t you let me kill them when I had the chance? I had them right where I wanted them, but no, you said don’t end them. Why? Do you want to lose? My father was a strategist of the highest caliber. But you, you’re just remedial. It’s pathetic. You’re not my father Friezell, and I can prove it. I’m ready to find him and there is nothing you can do about it. I am Devonte McAllister, and I am ready for anything...

The great Blackout is always literally dressed to kill. The couth, unscathed couture that sheltered his average yet slim framed body this time consisted of three amazing pieces. On his chest, a perfectly turquoise cotton vest that rivaled the aquatic tinged pureness of the ocean itself rested comfortably above a well tailored white satin dress shirt which was obviously crafted so painstakingly perfect, it had a rather detailed notch lapel for the collar’s fashionable effect. The satin fabric of the finely grafted dressed shirt glistened with a slight luster comparable to that of metal. A white silk tie ran down the middle of the dress shirt into the obscurity of the vest. Lastly, his pants cotton based pants retained a solid white color that perfectly matched his vest. Blackout had down it again.

“Hmm.” Blackout contemplated as he gazed at himself and his perfect ensemble in his mirror. “Something isn’t right here. Ahh, yea, my leather gloves! That’s right.” He averted his attention to his drawer that rested beneath the mirror and pulled it out swiftly. His observant eye was met by a plethora of choices after he unveiled his collection. Even with a slight shadow overcastting the drawer with his impressive collection, with his powerful sight he could still skim over a masterful anthology of gloves both old, new and some oddly ahead of their era. White glove, black gloves, red, plaid, starry, abstract even some mittens were visible. Unmistakably, Friezell had been treating Blackout to the finer things in life but... to Blackout it was no more than a bribe, no more than an attempt to gain trust to veil his obvious inevitable treachery that loomed imminent. Even without his god-like vision he could see it a mile away.

Blackout found himself sternly eyeing his glove collection but didn’t divert his thought. He stood for quite a while as he studied on his indecisive, irresolute position in this matter. With shifting eyes, he thought to himself, ~This can’t be right. Friezell... all of this...what is it really for? Am I doing the right thing here? ~ as he lurched his hand outward to grasp his pair of white gloves. As he clutched them, he could feel the dry leathery coldness of them spiking his hand like barbs on an urchin or a durian fruit. They were truly and abnormally cold.

“What is this here?” He said pulling them upward. As they exited the slight ensconce above his dresser drawer, he realized they were eerily frozen. “What the...what the hell is this?”

Blackout looked around swiftly, engaging his eyes with the surrounding which was freezing rapidly by the second. A smooth sheet of permafrost ran across his entire room, enveloping everything in its wake except for Blackout himself. His wicker chair, the desk, the lamp all of it frozen solid beneath a thin sheet of ice.

“Ahhh, Havoc. Quit playing around before I kill you. I mean it.” Blackout’s threat was met with no rebuttal, but rather the unsettling, crackling noise of settling frost. “Damn it all...Havoc!!” He cried stamping to the door as the soles his white crocodile skin shoes made a rather incessant clacking noise along the path. He arrived at the frozen door, expecting its sliding power to crack the ice and open freely. Things did not go as planned for the door remained sealed tight. This made Blackout panic a bit, but he kept a cool, collected mind. He ran his bare hand over the cornrows on his head and returned to the mirror.

“The hell is going on here? I...whoa...” Blackout’s fluctuating attention had been finally clutched by his mirror, which in it was a likeness of him, but slightly different. The mirror contained a reflection of him in the same three-piece suit, but the vest was as crimson as blood or a dying star. No lint was present on it. The dress shirt was midnight dark, newly cut onyxes. His pants were also black to match with his clean vest. Lastly, his jet black tie rode the shirt into his vest just as Blackout’s his white tie did.

“Hello Blackout. How are you?” The reflection spoke in a rather welcoming monotone. “What are you?” Blackout inquires deliriously as he tilts his head and cocks an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“Wait, you’re me. Blackout. I’ve had this dream before...” Blackout says before releasing an alleviated sigh and resting his hand over his now collected head. “I’ll be waking up in no time pal.”

*Tisk * the reflection quips. “My name is not Blackout, Blackout my friend. My name...our respectful name is Devonte.” He proclaimed as he slid his left sleeve back, revealing a black watch with a red face. “The times are changing my friend. When are you?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I am me, not you. My moniker is no longer Devonte.” “No Blackout, you’re not who you are meant to be. I’m not being controlled. I’m not being ruled. This right here should be you.”

“Neither am I dammit. I rule me, Devonte. Don’t get it twisted okay?” says Blackout, putting emphasis on Devonte to show him that he didn’t find the detestable common name suitable for himself.

“What is father, Friezell doing? Doesn’t seem like he’s granting free will to you my friend.” Devonte rebuts as he let loose his sleeve, allowing it to billow gently over the watch’s crimson face.

“He’s not my dad you... what do you want with me?” Blackout asked as he stared into the eyes of his reflection. “You see Blackout, I’m here to provide you a choice to your all too simple predicament really. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“My patience is thinning now, what do you want with me?” Blackout responds goaded as he laced his hands around the mirror’s wooden frame as if threatening to crush it.

“When you looked at your gloves just now, how did you feel?” Devonte asks, whipping his hand in an elliptical motion causing a white wooden chair to materialize behind him.

“I felt nothing. I just wanted my gloves. What the hell is this, you illusion?”

“Let me show you what you exactly what I mean.” Devonte snapped his fingers, causing the mirror to longer project a reflection, but a scene instead. He manipulated Blackout’s memory in the mirror as a scene. It replayed him standing over the drawer with a questionable gaze as his hand remained still inside the drawer.

As Blackout absorbed what he was doing, he responds with a false tone, “I was uncertain of something. That’s all. You know what, this is all good, but can you defrost the place? I have a place to be right now.”

*Snap* went Devonte’s fingers rather loudly. The mirror returned back to his image. He was still sitting in the chair with the same furtive smile as before. “Kid, don’t you get it? I see it as well as you do. You know for sure that Freizell is plotting against you. The question here is what are you doing?”

*Sigh* “Shut the hell up. I really don’t have time for your recollections of past events and—past events you say? I have a good one for you. Look at this one.” *Snap*

A rather demeaning clip was now being shown upon the theatrical mirror. It is a scene of him being mentally tortured by Friezell not to long ago. He watched it again, through his own eyes as the glass depicted it from his perspective that was excruciating to watch as well as feel. In the corners of the mirror, one could see conspicuous holes or tiny voids flicker frequently as he held his head in pain. “Here’s the juicy part right here, Blackout. Keep watching.” Devonte announced over the shrill cries of Blackout and his team as the scene progressed. As it did, something flickered across the mirror. It similar to the fashion that subliminal would take and they continuously flickered quickly across the glass.

“What is—shhh, this is the good part Blackout.” They interjected as the scenario proceeded. A quick flash of a face caught Devonte’s sight.

“Stop. Stop it right there. Go back.” Blackout commands. With a nod and a smile, Devonte responds “As you wish, Blackout.” As he proceeded to.

It was the face of a woman, a rather keen looking woman at that. Her skin was ivory unlike his which was a light mocha tint. As beautiful as she was though, only one thing caught Devonte’s eyes. White eyes that matched his completed the picture that was the woman’s pure visage. Her pale lavender eyes caught his attention and transfixed it.

“This women Blackout. Who is she?” Devonte asks rhetorically from behind the scenes as he awaited an answer from Blackout. He placed his hand on the mirror and as his despondent eyes engaged with the pallid eyes of the mysterious women his hand slowly began to slide down the glass. It seemed as if he longed for the women. A powerful sense of nostalgia settled upon him as he closed his eyes.

“Know who she is?” Asks Devonte. “Amaterasu. Damn it all to hell Devonte, I know. The woman you see before you is Adeline McAllister.” “But...I thought I forgot about her...I...Devonte, what is going on?”

“This, my friend, is your junction, your revelation. You see, the reason you thought you forgot about her is because Friezell tried to remove it from your mind during those mediation sessions you two used to share. Remember the Zen garden you two built? Remember that?”

“What are you trying to say Devonte?” Blackout asked as he looked up to Devonte with his vision inadvertently activated. He was obviously starting to become aggravated.

“I guess what I’m saying is you should leave while you can. Get out before it’s too late. You can still change your ways.”

“I’m sick and tired of you now. Who are you to tell me what to do huh?” Blackout barked as he balled his fists in rage. “I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need to leave!”

“My friend, yes you do.” Devonte returned with a calm but forthcoming tone. “If not, you will die and you damn well know it! Friezell is playing you like a checker chip. If you don’t leave, you’re going to get jumped.”

“NO!!”

“Listen to me!!” Devonte said closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of nose with slight impatience. “You need to leave this place.”

“Why Devonte? Tell me why? I have everything I could possibly want and when Friezell gets the Light Crystal, I’ll have more than you can imagine.”

“Okay. I’ll show you something once and only once. This is what will happen if you fail to escape.”

After seeing it, Blackout could do nothing but gape in disgust and fear. The sight that he had to endure was that of the most ephemeral, haunting, startling sights he’d ever seen. Devonte’s image was replaced by a body of mauled and ripped flesh which hung from him, specifically his cheeks and chest. This loosened skin revealed the right half of his skull and his scalp was just a bad. Broken and completely snapped bones that used to be his ribcage, both humorous in each arm and the shinbone of his left leg were visible to him as they protruded through his skin and some through nothing but air. The noodle-like tendrils of dark red and high pink which used to be recognized as tightly bundled muscles could now be deciphered as a stream of loosely hanging fiber as they swayed freely from his arms similar to the broken strings of a hackneyed instrument. Although not completely severed, they traced themselves back to their abode under the small flap of skin that, with a stroke of luck, remained on his arms and chest. His body is beaten, battered, crushed, even his precious eyes were torn from there sockets probably for Friezell’s all too obvious purpose leaving behind nothing but the velvet and violet strings which were once called optic nerves. To finish it all off, the background was that of a purgatorial nightmare. He was surrounded by many tomes that danced in a serenade that threatened to destroy his body even more as they projected a plethora of effervescent sparks into the atmosphere.

Devonte sealed his eyes hastily and feel to the ice floor like a child trapped in a house of horrors. “No more, Devonte. No more.” He begged as he fell forward, resting his hands on the icy floor, holding back the vomit that collected in his chest. “I’ll heed your words if you just...ssssstop it. Please...” he continued with an exasperated sigh as he slowly exposed his eyes, allowing his vision to cool down and return to normal.

“Do you see? Do you see? This is what will befall you if you don’t leave.” Devonte promised as he talked through the horrendous body of a torn Blackout.

“Okay. But Devonte, where will I go? If I leave, I may not have place to stay.”

“You will. Trust me. A lot of things will happen today. I promise you that they will be revolutionary for you. Now lastly, to leave, you must touch the glass.”

“Okay. If I must.” Blackout rested his hand right where Devonte’s was and just when he thought it was over, something weird occurred. The glass stuck to him like an amorphous solid or viscous liquid and slowly began to creep up his arm and over his chest.

“Haaa...c-c-cold-d. W-what is t-t-thisss? G-get it off...” Blackout stammered chillingly as he waved his arm in an attempt to sling off the growing liquid that threatened to assimilate him whole.

“You can’t see everything Blackout remember that now. Okay? And be selfless from now on. It’ll earn you a valuable partner.”

“AHH!!” Blackout cried as he fell to his knees and held his arms close to his chest for warmth. It was useless as in no time the grey liquid glass enveloped him and stifled his cries..........

It was still day. The suns hadn’t set and the soil outside the dark, looming castle. Blackout lay in bed eyes open starting contemplatively at the ceiling. A small fractal of the old ceiling was chipping. This small thing, a fractal of a cracking roof, made him think of his next move and most importantly Friezell’s.

“So many branches, so many choices, yet I have none that will assure me victory.” He said softly to himself as he adapted his eyes to his revolving ceiling fan. It was set on medium speed so much to Blackout’s comfort, it spun slowly. He watched the blades rotate slowly as the created somewhat of a mirage. This shot a thought into his mind.

~ If I run, he’ll catch me. If I leave, he’ll kill me. ~ He thought. ~ I have nowhere to go, but here. I’ll just end up coming back and it’ll be the same rotation again. But... I can’t. I’ll die if I do. ~ He turned in bed to a sitting position leaving his legs dangling idly over the edge.

~ What to do? I need to think. ~

Rather than sitting in his meditative posture, he choose to seal his eyes shut and focus heavily on the situation. Slowly, the nerves around his eyes enlarged as he began to feed energy into his eyes. This time he himself activated his insight. His diligently focused mind subconsciously amplified it to a level much higher than average Through his keen observant eyes, he could see the entire infrastructure of the black tower and even the outside of it. ~ No aeroquads are in the sky, two murinaes are in Hazard’s room, four people are in the foyer, but Friezell isn’t around anywhere…~ He though, tightening his eyelids as he focused harder. ~ I can’t see him. ~ Still though, even with it being about thirty-five percent from maximum power, he still noticed an anomaly that often recurred to him during his time of meditation.

~ Friezell’s floor. ~ Blackout thought with tightly clenching eyes. ~ That is something there. I cannot see it no matter how hard I focus. It’s like it’s within some type of shadow or void I can’t see into. ~

He tightened the seal on his eyes, pulling more power from his spirit to fuel them. He gauged the strength of his vision and concluded that he was at seventy-five percent now. His vision stretched even further then he’d expected it to. The view of other’s bone structure, dust particles in the air even the threads on loosely woven clothes and the small bugs that laced the inner workings of the tower greeted his sight in full definition. Although his sight at this level could see the smallest details on anything visible to him, he still could not see Friezell’s floor. It’s as if his level of the tower resided within a void of which he could not visualize or see through.

~ Impossible. He must’ve set this up just for me. That b*****d catches me at every turn. ~ He complained silently as he clenched his fist lightly. ~Wait a minute. There is one thing Friezell wouldn’t expect of me. To go to his level myself. He’d expect me to be too much of a coward. ~ He began to smile brightly as he slowly revealed his eyes once again.

~ I know I could easily get through it. I know it. And you know what? ~

“I’m going up there today.” Declared Blackout as he slid off the bed and landed on the plush carpeted floor with a mild thump. He picked up his weary legs and began to walk to the door, but before he could exit, from the corner of his white eyes was the reflection of him of himself in the mirror. He had on the same clothes from the previous battle with the B-savers, with the exception of the pallid, golden-buttoned overcoat. He paid it no mind as the rush of getting into the mysterious level that was Frizell’s floor ran through his nerves quicker than any other impulse.

Blackout exited his room and scouted the area making sure there would be no problems along the way. He had two hallways to traverse, the first of which contained two people of average build and the next, three. ~ Route one. If I can past both these hallways, I could make a straight line to the elevator leading to Friezell’s floor. Smooth sailing from then on. But these five guys will be a problem. ~ From what he could see, their body frames contained more muscle than he did but still they weren’t stronger than him. With this strategic point locked in mind, he continued out the door and into the hallway. He noticed a camera behind him and turned to face it. With a rather satisfied smirk, he held out a finger and shot a beam of light into it. After shooting numerous sparks about, it snapped of off the brace that was keeping it attached to the wall and fell to the rugged floor little sound. ~ I guess you saw that. ~ Blackout thought as he continued along his path of discovery.

Blackout sidled along the wall adjacent to his door as he neared a corner. This corner led into the first hallway he’d need to pass to get to the next hallway. He stopped at the edge of the corner and peered with his eyes once more.

~ There two guards, one in crimson red, the other in dark violet. Of course, pacing the floor like mindless slaves they are. The one in violet is slightly weaker and has more weak points. The one in red , his muscles are torn, possibly from a past fight. ~ A small grin made it’s way to Blackout’s face as he scanned over there bodies looking for all the weaknesses he could find. ~ One hundred forty-seven points total. Seventy-eight for the black, sixty-nine for the blue. I guess it’s time to attack. ~

Blackout revealed himself by walking casually into the middle of the hall with the usual despondent gaze he shot to those he saw around the castle. “Hello Sir Blackout, we’ve been waiting for you.”

While mid-step in his path forward, Blackout acknowledges the guard’s call and turns pale ghostly eyes to him. “For what?” he requites in a low, seemingly careless voice.

“Master Friezell wants to talk to you.”

“Oh really? Why?” Blackout asked as he slid his hands into his pockets.

“Lord Friezell has something to discuss with you. It is of the utmost importance that you pay him a visit.”

“Is that so?” Asked Blackout as he walked lazily toward the guard while glaring at him with a caustic eyes. “Tell him this for me. If he wants me, he’ll come and get me.”

“We’ve been given orders to take you by force if we must Sir Blackout. Do you comply, or not?” the blue guard responded with a quaking voice.

“Blackout on any day would comply with such ludicrous request, but Devonte from this day forward will not. Sorry, but force is what I’ll have to be taken by.”

“You leave us no choice then, Sir Devonte. En garde…”

“Have it your way, but I’m warning you, you won’t survive this.”

Silence settled over the area as the two guards stared down the much more powerful Devonte. Devonte shifted his vision to the Blue Guard for only a second. This allowed the Red Guard to slip past his sight unnoticed.

With another