After several minutes, Icon finally began to slowly stir. He was in immense pain. The gashes on his back burned, his ribs ached so badly that it was difficult for the hero to draw breath, and his leg felt as if it were broken. First he slowly sat up, and then, leaning against the wall which he had been thrown into, he attempted to stand.

He didn’t know what the creature Nightmare was, however he did know that he had never come up against anything like him. He wondered what had happened, where had Nightmare and the gold and black clad woman run off to, and why didn’t they finish him off.

Then he saw them.

A group of men, or what was left of them in STRIKE tactical gear strewn among the party goers, blood and body parts littered the floor of the warehouse. It was then that he realized what must have happened. While he was down, STRIKE had come in to try to take the killer down, but again were overmatched by the monster.

With no signs of Nightmare or his cohort, and barely able to walk, Icon made his way toward the exit of the warehouse, and froze in place when he saw the parting gift that the pair had left. Something that sent a shiver down his spine as he looked upon the gruesome image that had been left for the public to see. A grotesque work of art, born of blood and fire, etched onto the floor of the warehouse.

A simple message, meant not necessarily for him, but for the media and more importantly, STRIKE. However, as gazed at the grotesque writing that lay upon the floor, for the first time he questioned himself. He had faced a number of threats in his time in Lost Haven, however, never anything quite like Nightmare. For the first time, he didn't believe that he could win. For the first time, he was afraid.

Hello Lost Haven
4 of 20
Recruiting
Nightmare
Soulfire

Aubrey Adkins
The last thing I remembered before everything went black was being sprayed with some type of gas that almost immediately put me to sleep. My healing factor kicked in almost as soon as everything went black, allowing me to perceive a few more things. Anything after the sleeping gas is pretty much hazing, but I can see a few images, especially of that strange government agent dude who morphed into a woman.

When I finally regained my senses, everything was upside down, or, more accurately, I was. All I knew was that the sky was below me, and the streets, buildings, and pedestrians were above me. This unusual orientation momentarily freaked me out, causing me to lose my grip on whatever I was adhered to.

Next thing I knew, I was plummeting toward the pavement below. Instinctively, I reached out my arm toward one of the rooftops and double-tapped the trigger of the webshooter strapped to my wrist. The webline clung to the top of the building, sending me back skyward. By the time I realized what had happened, I had already shot a second dragline. How did I know how to do this? I mean, I have been an athlete for almost all my life, but I never did anything with ropes. I could probably explain any uncanny acrobatics to cheerleading, but swinging on spiderwebs?

With a third webline, I immediately redirected my course to the nearest rooftop. Once on the roof, all I wanted to do was rest for a moment and figure out what was going on. After I had planted my feet on the roof and taken a deep breath, I realized that I was wearing red and blue gloves. No, not just red and blue gloves, but an entire, form-fitting costume with that color scheme. A black web patterned covered the entire costume. When I pulled of my mask (when did I put on a mask?), I saw two giant white lenses stare back at me. The eyes were lined with black.

God, I was wearing that costume which that government agent (or was he a government agent-he shapeshifted into a woman!) showed those two other, um, supers and me. What? I don’t know what to call them. They had powers and they looked, well, different. Almost animalistic, or at least they had animal like traits. For instance, that one girl, I think Kelly was her name, she had four arms and wings! Is that even natural? Or take Veronica as an example. Before we were kidnapped for a second time, she morphed into something like Medusa, minus the snake hair and petrifying stare.

At the time, I wondered what would happen to me. I was the only one there who did not transform into a human-animal hybrid. Even that man (if I could call him that) that the Iron Man like guy fought was part shark! Of course now I knew what would happen to me: I’m now some weird Spider-centaur. However, one question still haunts me. Is this the end of my transformation?

Suddenly I heard someone behind me on that roof, or rather, I sensed him (or her). It was more as if I felt his (or her) footsteps vibrating over the floor and through the air. This was the same feeling I felt when that Iron Man copycat broke through the wall and when the sharkman attacked. When I turned around, I saw the shapeshifter, the woman whom I remember before blacking out. She was dressed up like a Greek goddess, along with some stereotypical Greek armor (helmet, shield, and spear).

“Hello, Aubrey,” she said, “are you ready to begin the next chapter of your life?”

I did not like the sound of that at that time and even recalling it now, it still doesn’t sound like something good was about to happen. In fact, it sounded like something bad awaited me.

Scott didn’t remember the trip from the site of Nightmare’s massacre back to his home, however, he found himself struggling to make his way down the short hallway to the door of his apartment. In all his life, he couldn’t remember ever being in so much pain. His suit was warm and sticky from the blood that had oozed from his wounds, and his leg felt like a mangled mess. Though he had already begun healing, it would take time for him to fully recover from his injuries.

And in the back of his mind, he still felt a strange fear prying against his consciousness, forcing itself upon him. He had never faced anything quite like Nightmare, and he didn’t know if he could defeat the monster. He was afraid and unsure of himself, and it was almost as if his doubts were those of someone else. He tried to pinpoint exactly when he began to experience these feelings, and eventually it came to him.

The lack of confidence and fear that he felt came on shortly after the woman in black and gold had engulfed him in that strange black flame. From that moment, he had not felt completely like himself. However, he was unsure if that was the cause of these feelings, or a mere coincidence. However, it didn’t matter whether it was caused by the strange woman or not. It was something that he knew that he would need to overcome if he was going to have any shot at defeating Nightmare.

Finally, he limped to him apartment door and slowly opened it. He could hear the TV in the living room and had assumed that Eric had stayed in order to wait up for him. Eric had been concerned for him when he returned from the Valor Institute, and had tried to talk him out of trying to find Nightmare.

He was right, I had no business going after that monster. Scott thought to himself as he limped into the apartment.

As he sat on the couch, Eric Dean heard the front door open to the apartment, and a wave of relief washed over him. The events from earlier in the night were splashed all across the television screen. Countless ravers were dead, as were a number of STRIKE agents, apparently at the hands of the murderous psychopath Nightmare.

“About time you got home, I was starting to…”He never finished his sentence. He looked over to his friend and saw the tattered costume, the bruises on his face…and the blood. He had never seen so much blood in his life. His friend, who he had always thought of as untouchable, looked as if he’d been mauled half to death by a wild animal.

Scott looked to Eric, and began to say something, however the words never came out. Instead, his entire world turned to darkness as he fell to the floor.

The next morning a woman who caught the eyes of almost everyone who saw her made her way up to the apartment above the still under construction club. Her long silver blonde hair hung down freely and her slim, athletic, and well defined figure was clad in a jacket and long pants in accordance with the weather even though she really had no need of a jacket to ward off the cold. She wore a pair of plain sunglasses even though it wasn't all that bright out, sunglasses that helped keep people from noticing that the irises of her eyes were a bright orange rather than more normal human colors.

She hadn't expected to have to deal with humans for such a long period of time. The plan had been to slay Macros and put an end to the man's evil forever. But her plan had not come to fruition. She had been defeated by the intervention of some anomaly who possessed traits she had never witnessed before. And since she had taken refuge among the humans she had been forced to delay things further. Alsia had been surprised by the kindness of the human Eric who had attempted to help her though she had found it irritating when she had to delay her healing to appear as if she too was human. Otherwise she could have been ready to launch her next strike the next day instead of waiting weeks to heal at human speed.

During the time she had spent recovering the human seemed to have developed some fondness for her, attempting to enter into a relationship. The visisth had come to the conclusion that such would provide suitable cover and would ensure she did not have to find a new place to hole up while planning for the strikes against Macros. It wasn't at all due to any mutual attraction. Or so she insisted to herself even though in truth it had played a part.

The fact that she wasn't spending this day looking into Macros, building her database on his exact routine and defenses stemmed from the fact that she had accepted the offer. Eric had not returned from his 'house sitting' for several days and while Alsia had not been particularly bothered by his absence she knew that the human response would be concern. And so she was here to do what she believed a human girl in the same situation would. She raised a hand to knock on the door and continued knocked until it eventually opened.

1.5 years ago
Kelly paced back and forth in her two-person dorm room. In mere minutes, her date would arrive, some up-and-coming freshman running back. Kelly peered down at her wristwatch and then back toward the electronic display on her room’s microfridge. Only thirty seconds had elapsed since the last tiem she checked the time.

“God, why does it seem like it’s taking an eternity for six o’ clock to arrive?”

“That’ the funny thing about time,” someone said behind Kelly, “Time loiters when you want it to go fast, but flies by when you want to enjoy the moment.”

Kelly turned around to see her best friend, Samantha, or Sammy for short, sitting on the couch that was provided with the dorm room. Kelly and Samantha had been best friends for as long as they could remember. They endured everything from elementary school all the way to their senior graduation from high school. While they decided against rooming with one another, they still remained close.

Kelly plopped down on the couch next to her best friend. But immediately she sprung back up, realizing that she might had messed up her dress, or her make-up, or something.

“Kelly,” Sammy said, “Just take a seat. You still look just as pretty as you did a few seconds ago.”

Kelly took a seat again, this time a little more gracefully. She gave an uneasy smile toward her friend, but then she swiftly turned her head back toward the clock on the microfridge.

“Don’t worry, Kelly,” Sammy reassured her, “Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

“What if I’m just not his type? What if we don’t have any chemistry? What if...” Kelly said, but Sammy cut her off in order to stop her worrying.

“Kelly, just stop stressing out so much about it. If you keep obsessing about your relationship failing, you’ll be just as devastated as when your last boyfriend dumped you back in high school.”

Kelly sighed when Sammy mentioned her ex. Kelly had dated that guy for two years in high school. There seemed to have been so much chemistry between the two that they were even considered an item at that time. But at the beginning of their senior year, her then-boyfriend dumped Kelly all of the sudden. Because it happened out of the blue, the breakup was even that much more devastating for Kelly.”

“Anyway,” Sammy started again, “I was snooping around and I think you’ll really like this guy. Just go with the flow!”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

“Knock his socks off, Kelly!” Sammy encouraged. Kelly just gave another uneasy smile and promptly answered the door.

---

Now

Sammy paced in her apartment, holding her cell phone up to her ear. She had been trying to reach her BFF for days now. Ever since that YouTube video of Kelly changing into her “Wasp” appearance went viral, Sammy had been trying to get a hold of Kelly, but all she would ever get was her voice mail. Did Kelly not want to talk to her, or was it just that Kelly was avoiding her cell phone in general? Sammy would understand if it was the latter, but she still wanted to talk.

Although she knew that it would not work, Sammy tried to call Kelly again.

“I’m sorry that I can’t get to my phone right now. Please leave your name and a message after the beep. Beep!” Kelly’s voicemail repeated, the same message that Sammy had heard several times already in her attempts to reach Kelly.

“Kelly, it’s me, Sammy, for the gazillionth time. Whenever you get this call, could you please call me back? I’m worried about you, Kelly!”

“I probably don’t know how it feels going through all the trials which you are undergoing, but I’m your friend. True friends stick together until the end. I don’t care how many arms you have, what color your skin happens to be, or even what animal-hybrid you seem to be, you’re still my BFF. I’m here for you.”

Sammy paused for a second, wondering what else she could say. After a moment, she took a deep breath and started again.

“Kelly, I don’t have any classes tomorrow. Do you want to hang out sometime in the evening? Just call me and let me know when and where. I’m going to be babysitting one of the neighborhood kids tonight since my mom let the cat out of the bag that we were such phenomenal babysitters back in the day. I’ll be by my phone all night, so please call!”

Eric Dean

Eric Dean sat worriedly in a plush, overstuffed recliner next to the bed of his best friend Scott. After Scott had collapsed just inside the apartment the night before, he hadn’t made a sound. Eric had struggled to get him from the living room into his bed, and hadn’t left his friend’s side since.
As he looked down at his friend, he realized just how far in over his head he really was. He had never seen anything that could hurt Scott, let alone tear him to shreds like this. Through the night, there were several times that Eric wasn’t even sure if Scott was going to survive, and as the sun rose he gave a silent prayer of thanks that his friend had made it through the night.

While he sat at his friend’s bedside, his mind swirled. He feared that Scott wouldn’t wake up, or that if he did he would be different somehow. He didn’t know what to expect, because he had never found himself in this situation before, in fact, before the previous night, he never would have imagined a scenario where this would be possible. The longer Scott slept, the more Eric feared that he may never wake.

That thought scared him. Scott was his best friend, and he didn’t know what he would do if he suddenly wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t know who he would talk to if Scott were suddenly gone. He and Scott shared a special bond, and had from the time they could barely walk. They had grown up a mile away from each other, and they had always been the best of friends. From the time they were children, they had confided in one another, and when one of them got into trouble, the other always covered for him. They were more than friends, they were more like brothers.

Eric wanted to know where Scott had been in the week and a half that he’d been gone. He wanted to know what Scott had learned while he was away, and he also wanted to know what exactly had caused him so much harm.

However, there was much that Eric wanted to tell Scott as well. He wanted to tell Scott about the girl that he had met that day in the alley, the one who had been so beaten and bruised. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he had felt a strange connection to her from that very first moment. Though she certainly had her quirks, he was beginning to really like her.

However, he wasn’t stupid.

He knew that there was something different about her. The strange coloration of her eyes, the way that she could out eat several NFL linemen at the same time, just the way that she carried herself in general…He had deep suspicions that she was more than she claimed to be. He firmly believed that she was a meta-human, and at the rate that they seemed to be coming out of the woodwork, it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

He wanted to tell him about how things were a bit odd at first, but as the days went on they began talking more and building more of a bond. He had tried flirting with her, and at first she had brushed him off, however, after a few times he finally wore her down and she gave in to his advances.

Not sure what her powers are, if she actually has any…but what ever they are, resisting the ol’ Dean Charm isn’t one of them. he jokingly thought to himself as his mind began to drift to the other night when they…

Suddenly there came a persistent banging at the front door of the apartment, the sudden explosion of sound nearly startled him out of the chair that he had been lounging in. He was unsure who would be banging on Scott’s door at this time, so he quickly made his way to the apartment door and opened it. To his surprise, he found himself looking into the face of the very woman he had just been thinking of. He didn’t know what to say to her to explain Scott’s current condition or why he hadn’t called to give her an update on what was going on.

“Uh…hey.” He uttered as he smiled sheepishly at her.

Aubrey Adkins
What the heck was going on with my life? First I was kidnapped by a mad scientist and injected with some weird chemicals. Then, I was ‘freed’ by some crazy dude in a mechanical suit of armor and freed again by some government agent who turned out to be a shape shifting woman. Now this same person, who apparently thought that she herself was a goddess, stood before me, saying a new chapter of my life was about to begin.

“What in the world are you talking about?” I replied to “Athena’s” previous declaration.

“In the olden days, I was the aid of heroes. Odysseus, Perseus, Herakles, even Diomedes. I helped each of these heroes in his lifetime. And now, it is my turn to guide you.”

“But why me? 24 hours ago, I didn’t even have any powers. I never wanted them in the first place! Life is already hard enough without powers. Why would I want to pile on more misery on to my already miserable life?”

“The ‘spider’ theme might have been a factor.” Athena smiled as she explained herself, obviously ignoring my comment about how my life kind of sucked, “my fellow Olympians try to find those who encompass some aspect of ourselves and you are no different. Your natural athletic prowess, even without your powers, is a quality I admire. Now that your arachnid powers have begun to emerge, these new abilities also encompass my own affinity for weaving and crafts, as spiders are associated with those aspects in many cultures around the world.”

I couldn’t even believe what she was saying. This woman actually thinks she is the Goddess Athena! Well, there is only one quote suitable for this situation.

There's only one God, ma'am, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that.

“I can tell the disbelief in your eyes, child,” Athena said in response to my body language, “Rest assured that I’m not trying to convert you. In fact, that is forbidden by the pact of the Godheads that secured the homogeny of the Abrahamic religions on earth. Nevertheless, that’s a story for another time. But the real question is what will it take for you to believe that I am the Goddess Athena?”

Due to my Catholic upbringing, my response was obvious. “You can’t, because there is only one God and he gave up his only son to save us from our sins.”

“Okay, then,” Athena began, pausing before she continued, “do you see that man in the alleyway?”

“That shady guy dressed in all dark colors?”

“Now do you see your roommates walking home from the Grocery Store?”

“What about them?”

“In a few seconds, your friends will approach this alley and will be assaulted by this man. If you do nothing, the Korean girl will bleed to death, the blonde will give birth to that man’s child, and the brunette will be so scarred by the event that she will have to see a psychologist to get over it.”

“My God, why do you have to be so dark? Who comes up with those things?” I approached the edge of the roof, preparing to make my move into the alleyway. However, before I made my move against that man, I had one thing to get straight with ‘Athena’. “Anyways, don’t mistake me helping my friends as believing you, because I don’t”

I leapt down into the alleyway, landing behind the future assailant of my friends. Even as I landed, the man had already approached my roommates. I had to do something to prevent those terrible fates that Athena had just described.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” I declared toward the man who was about ready to attack my friends, not really thinking out the true consequences of my actions.

The assailant immediately turned around, focusing his attention toward me. I was not entirely sure if that was the correct course of actions, but it was now too late to change my mind. This man rushed toward me and thrust forward a small knife.

When the assailant began to attack, everything seemed like time started to move in slow motion. I easily dodged out of the way of the man’s knife. His ‘slow’ strokes seemed humorous to me, although to the man, I probably looked like I was moving at lightning speed.

Once I successfully dodged the man’s attack, I finally went on the offensive. After knocking the knife from his hand, I launched a punch towards his face. Only moments before it connected did I realize that I was about ready to pulverize this man’s face. I mean, I basically had Spider-Man’s skill set (or at least this was my assumption), shouldn’t I have his strength?

When my punch hit its mark, I discovered that contrary to my original thoughts, my punch in fact did NOT devastate his face. I wasn’t sure whether I should be glad or horrified. On the bright side, I didn’t just send someone to the hospital. However, with this discovery, I realized that I either didn’t have any ‘Spider-Strength’, or that it had not developed yet.

“You hit like a girl” The man laughed, any nervousness having fallen away once this man realized that I did not have any ‘Super-Strength’.

This didn’t look good at all.

“Thank you for helping out in a short notice. We know that you’re probably busy with college, but we were desperate,” Mr. Clark said, “We normally never need a babysitter on a Tuesday night.”

“No problem,” Sammy replied with a smile, “I don’t have any classes tomorrow, so it wasn’t like you were taking me away from anything important. But I better be going now. Good Night!”

Sammy left the house and started her car. Before she departed, she checked her cell phone again, just in case Kelly had called and she somehow had missed it. However, not to Sammy’s surprise, there were not any voice messages for her number.

Sammy shifted her car’s gears to drive and started her return trip back to her apartment. However, after she was ten minutes away from her apartment, Sammy realized that she had forgotten her purse back at the Clark’s residence. Therefore, she turned her car around and headed back to her old neighborhood.

Once she had returned to the Clark residence, Sammy noted that another vehicle that did not belong to the Clarks was parked in the driveway. The car was an older model car, as it appeared more cubical shaped than most cars do nowadays. Sammy wondered if the Clarks were having company that she did not already know about.

When she reached the front door, Sammy heard something rattle under her feet. When she peered down, Sammy realized that there was broken glass scattered all over the welcome mat. Furthermore, the glass window on the front door was broken too, but the glass on the porch was colored, while the front door’s glass was clear.

“Hello?” Mr. and Mrs. Clark? Anyone home?” Sammy called out, her voice wavering because the front door was unlocked and all the lights in the house were turned off.

Even though the Clarks had moved into this house relatively recently, Sammy know how to navigate through the pitch black hallways of the house because she and Kelly used to watch the previous owners’ kids. Sammy made her way toward the Clark’s master bedroom, hoping to alert them of what was happening. However, when Sammy opened the door, she saw that she was too late.

When she came closer to the bed, Sammy saw to her horror that both the Clark parents had their throats slit open. However, this was not the only grotesque image: both parents had animalistic traits now that Sammy surely did not remember them having when she last saw them alive. The father looked like a Minotaur, his head replaced by a bull’s and his body was covered with black hair. The wife, however, did not undergo a transformation as extreme as her spouse did. While she did have some features of a cow, like ears and a tail, she still looked human.

Sammy was horrified at the scene she saw. In fact, she almost fainted because how bizarre it looked. The things that Sammy saw were things of science fiction; they could not possibly happen in real life. This was not real, was it?

Sammy closed her eyes, hoping that everything would return to normal when she opened her eyes back up. But when she open her eyes, the Clarks did not revert back to their original appearances. Once she realized that this horrible scene was actually real, Sammy only know one thing to do: 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, please state your emergency.”

“My name is Sammy and I was babysitting for one of the neighbors. I forgot my purse, so I returned to retrieve it. After I entered into the house, I saw that they were, they were...” Sammy stumbled over her own works as she struggled to get a grasp over the situations. She could not believe something so horrible could happen.

“Please take a deep break, ma’am. What happened?”

Sammy took a deep breath and began explaining her situation. After giving the house address, the 9-1-1 operator told Sammy that she was transferring her call and that she needed her to remain calm.”

“Sammy?” another female voice said over the receiver after Sammy’s all had been transferred to someone else, “My name is Allison Johnson, but you can call me A.J. I’m with the FBI. We think that the culprits of the crime that you have stumbled upon are the same people whom we have been tracking for a day or so. Do you know if they are still on the premise?”

“Sammy thought for a second. She had not seen anyone else in the house, or at least anyone who was still alive. But she remembered the car parked outside.

“There’s a car parked in the Clarks' driveway. I don’t know who owns it, but I never seen it before.”

“Okay, Sammy. Listen carefully. If you think you can, try to leave the house as quietly but calmly as possible. If you think you will be caught, find somewhere to hide until we get there. Is that understood?”

However, A.J. did not receive a response from Sammy because someone had already found her, striking the girl on the back of the head. A.J.’s words fell on silent ears, or rather no ears at all.

Meatpacking District, Manhattan, New York, New York.

For months they had planned this, thought it out, retrieved ingredients and artifacts.

Michael had gone out and picked up a girl in a bar, and Kevin had bought live chickens and a large pet spider. A red kneed tarantula specifically. Sarah had drawn out the sigil of the dark prince they wished to call on the floor, something as good as a name. For their purposes even better. Dressed ceremonially in their long, taupe colored robes, the hoods pulled up over their heads. None of this mentioned in the ritual text, but they felt it added authenticity to their little satanic cult. In reality the eighteen of them were only desperate, down on their luck, vulnerable and looking for a place to belong. Except for Derrick, he had been the one to bring them together. Though he was far from an Anton LaVey he was the most 'authentic' of their group. So he stood at the foot of the girl as she lay unconscious in the middle of the sigil, curves and angled and straight lines laid out to represent the spirit they would call. Holding the long kitchen knife one hand, Derrick lifted it over his head, chanting out in Latin.

"Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me." The baritone of his voice echoes through the building, down the halls, into rooms. The windows nearest him vibrate and the power of the words themselves sink into the sigil, energizing it.

The booming chant was enough to rouse the intended victim from her slumber. Awaking to her hands and her ankles tied together, a gag tied around her head and stuffed in her mouth. That was when she started kicking and screaming.

Some of the cloaked figures standing around the circle became anxious. They were normal people, some had 9-5 jobs, they were in this for the wealth and for the fame. Not one of them had killed anyone before. Michael, Sarah, Evey and Derrick were the only ones who seemed to remain untouched by it all. This had not been his first time, he was accustomed to this. To the killing, the summoning, he'd attended his fair share over the last hundred years.

One of them, Franco, began to mutter one o the infernal prayers they'd been taught. When that failed to calm his nerves his thumbs twiddle nervously and he opened his mouth. "Can we do something to shut her up? Please?" His pleading earned him an elbow to the ribs. Lucas was the one to get him to join, albeit reluctantly at first. And then the promise of power and women did away with the reluctance, until tonight.

"Just cram it, man." Lucas had brought his school friend into the group, hoping that it would garner him favor and put him somewhere higher in the cult. Franco couldn't make him look bad now.

Derrick went on, their glorious leader, the words repeated over and over. When the cue was given Michael bashed the chicken against the floor inside the circle, its blood splattered across the ground and on the girl. A moment later, the girl had her gag removed and the Tarantula forced into her mouth and down her throat before the cloth was replaced. The spider panicked, it bit and struggled and the girl screamed and choked. Finally after one last line Derrick drove the blade into her heart. And in an instant the body stilled. There was no heart beat, no screams.The spider had even already died in her throat. The cult around her stood perfectly still. It seemed an eternity as they waited patiently. It felt like hours, days perhaps passed before anything moved.

And then it did. She stood up, as if lifted up on wires the girl levitated, like a marionette on strings. Joints lifted, the rest dangled before her head snapped up and the spider flew from her maw, followed by an intake of air. Her eyes jaundiced, wide, wild, unpredictable. One might thing she an escaped patient of an asylum. The cult was in awe, now they would have all the power they wanted, the fame, the money. They wouldn't be the over looked under appreciated any longer. Snapping her broken jaw into place the creäture inhabiting the girl's body looked around at the little congregation around it before grinning wickedly.

"Howdy, howdy, lads and lasses, would anyone care to lend me their glasses?" He/she did not have any kind of impaired vision, but it did want to hide the sick eyes that it manifested in the host body. Derrick was quick to hold out a pair, stashed in his robes as he expected such a request. Again, not his first rodeo. Taking a step forward the demon took the glasses slipping them on. "Derick the cleric. Called me up from the pit, are there words or rhymes you wish to spit?" The leader of the cult nodded silently. The demon motioned for him to go one.

"We called you from hell so that you might pass judgement and cast damnation over this city." Practiced lines, words he'd said before to others.

"And just where is this winner's chicken dinner?" It asked after slipping on the sunglasses, looking about at the others and taking a wif of the air.

"The frightened one twiddle his thumbs." A chill went down Franco's spine, Lucas' as well. Had he condemned Franky by pushing him to join? He immediately started twiddling his own thumbs nervously. It stalked towards them, watching them both. First it set its hands on Franco's shoulders softly, stroking out the wrinkles in the fabric, lowering the hood and patting his cheek with a twisted closed mouth smile.

"Frrrrranco, right?" Its voice was the sound cancer made if cancer had a voice.

Franco nodded.
"I'm not going chew on you," Patting the scared man on the shoulder, the cult member relaxed. "But your friend I'm going to end."

No one had a chance to react as fingers came up through Lucas' belly, and into his chest as he was disemboweled where he stood. Blood came up and poured from his mouth before he fell to the floor. The beast fell on the corpse and began feeding, Franco ran, Derrick stood unphased with some of the more experienced members while the others shocked, appalled and disturbed.

When it finished, the girl's body straightened up, wiped the blood from its mouth with the back of its hand and looked around. Cronies with weak stomachs were what he saw. "I've got to clean up, or should I tell all I'm covered in catsup?"

Quickly shown to a place to clean up, the knife removed from between the two ribs, dressed in new clothes. Put in a car Derrick instructed Sarah to take the demon to central park for further feeding.

"Lord Vetis prefers children." were his last words to her. A simple lie. He preferred women and followers. The thing would feed on her and then he would find his brother and make his life a living hell.

Aubrey Adkins
This is exactly why I never wanted this “super-hero” gig in the first place. How could I have known anything about being one? Sure, I’ve seen some of the recent “super-hero” movies, but that’s Hollywood, right? That’s just CGI magic, scripted fights, and smoke & mirrors. How could that be of any use to me?

What’s more, I was about ready to have my butt handed to me, and I’m the one who has the super powers. How in the world was I going to face villains who actually have powers when I cannot handle one that doesn’t? While I had intended to save my friends, I probably have just made myself the victim. If it wasn’t for my superhuman reflexes, I probably would be out cold right now.

Wait. One. Second. I should be smarter than this. I should know from my athletic career that if you cannot use blunt force to overcome your opponent, you must find another way. Bulkier doesn’t always mean better.

First, I needed to create some separation between this shady man and me. I performed a back handspring in order to create the space I needed in order to prepare my next move. Finally, my high school cheerleading days have paid off! Once I have landed on my two feet after I performed the acrobatic feat, I extended my hands toward the assailant and double-tapped the small trigger located at the end of my palm.

Two separate strings of spider webbing shot out from my wrists, flying toward my opponent. However, the result wasn’t what I expected. Whenever Spider-Man would do this, it seemed like the webbing would form how he wanted it. If he needed to ensnare a thief, the webbing would perfectly form a net and capture the villain. This did NOT happen for me. Only two weblines struck the man in the check, stunning him for a moment, but it did not incapacitating him.

I only had moments until my attacker would snap out of his initial shock. After quickly scanning the area, I saw a thin pipe in the alleyway, one that was almost the size of a baseball bat. I quickly used another webline to pull the pipe over towards me, grasping it in my hands. Once I had my intended weapon in my hands and I had turned my attention back to the other man, I realized that he was already about ready to strike me.

Too bad I had spider reflexes. I swung the pipe at the man’s thigh, just as if I was swinging a bat when I used to play softball back in high school. The man crumbled to the ground, groaning in pain. I dropped the pipe, causing a clanking noise to echo throughout the alleyway. I wasn’t sure if I was overjoyed or horrified that I just struck this man. I could probably chalk it up to self-defense, but still, I just struck a man with a pipe. I wasn’t a violent person, was I?

Anyways, I took a deep breath and approached my friends. I didn’t want them to know that I was, well, a metahuman now, so I tried to disguise my voice. I mean, how hard could it be? No one figured out that Batman and Spider-Man were Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. Batman didn’t even wear anything over his mouth.

“Could someone please call 9-1-1 so that the police can pick this guy up,” I said while pointing at the man rolling on the ground. I tried to alter my voice, but the only thing I achieved was making myself sound like a bozo.

“Aubrey?” One of my friends guessed.

Gosh darn it. This “disguising my identity” seems like it won’t be as easy as my comic counterparts make it out to be.

“What? I never heard of that name before,” I tried to deny, but my voice was still betraying me, no matter how much I tried to alter or hide it. How in the world did no one catch on that Batman and Spider-Man sounded just like Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker? Was J. Jonah Jameson so thickheaded that he could not tell that his stud photographer sounded just like Spider-Man?

“Aubrey, where have you been? You been gone for over a day!” Another one of my roommates asked.

This was neither the time nor the place where I wanted either to answer or to discuss that question. I needed a way out and the only way out was up. I gave my three friends a snarky comment about not going into dark alleys at night and promptly jumped toward the wall, adhering to the side of the building with my hands and legs.

“Aubrey Rose Adkins. You come down here right this instance!” The third friend said. My comment obviously did not go over well with them. However, I just ignored their cries and continued up the wall. I mean, who do they think they are by calling me by my entire name, including my middle name? My mom?

Once I crawled up the side of the building and flipped back onto the rooftop, I immediately saw that Athena had been waiting for me. She reached her hand out towards me, clutching my shoulder in her arms. Seconds after she took my shoulder, a bright white light blinded me. The next thing I knew, I was back in my room in the apartment I shared with my roommates. They had not arrived home from the grocery store yet. And good thing, too! There was a woman dressed up like a Greek goddess standing in my room (let alone that I looked like someone trying to cosplay a female copy of Spider-Man).

“How in the world do you expect me to do this job – which I honestly did not want to do in the first place – when people can easily recognize me by means of my voice?” I yelled at the so-called “Goddess”.

“Don’t worry, child. I will think of something,” Athena said as she smiled at me. “I am in fact called the Goddess of Wisdom for a reason.” Once she finished her sentence, she instantaneously blinked out of existence, disappearing from my line of sight. All I know is that this is definitely is going to be a ‘love hate’ relationship between the two of us.

Agent Gibson and his team exited from the Clark residence. Noah Gibson had seen and solved countless cases in his career at the BAU, but this one was unlike anything he had ever seen. He has dealt with bombers, arsonists, maniacs, and even LRSK’s (long ranged serial killers). If you can name it, Gibson and his team probably solved a case involving them. However, these cases were different. Gibson had seen gruesome crime scenes, but never anything involving what the media calls “Metahumans” or “Magic”.

“These are obviously the same culprits from the first crime scene,” Agent Gibson said, “We were lucky that the first kidnapped girl had seizures without her medications, which inadvertently forced our unsubs into leaving an eye witness. We need to combine what we learned from that little girl and from both crime scenes in order to captures these deviants.”

The youngest member of the team spoke up first.

“Well, from the information that we learned from the first girl and from the crime scenes, I have to say that these home invasions and murders must be a rite of passage. This is supported by the glass scattered on the front steps and the types of animals that the unsubs would transform the parents into. The transformations might be the most important, because they transform the parents into animals that are commonly used in many cultures as victims for animal sacrifice. I wouldn’t be surprised that by transforming the parents into these animal hybrids, the unsubs see them more as victims for sacrifice rather than for murder.”

“But I thought we profiled the killers as a Bonny and Clyde duo?” A.J. asked.

“That what I thought at first, but after seeing this crime scene, I highly doubt it now. If you examine the mother’s neck wound, you will see that the cut is shallower and more jagged than the father’s wound. This shows that the mother’s killer was less experienced than the father’s killer.”

“Even the transformations show that the mother’s killer is less experienced. The father looks like a Minotaur form Greek Mythology, more bestial than human. But the mother is almost the exact opposite. She preserves most of her humanity, if it wasn’t for several cow features. In fact, in spite of her bovine attributes, if someone would just look at her face, they probably wouldn’t realize she was any different, assuming the wife was wearing a hat to cover up her ears.”

“We also learned from the little girl that the unsubs probably are from Romani descent.” Gibson said, “They’re kidnapping these girls as handpicked future wives for their son once they have come of age. This allows them to keep their bloodlines relatively healthy because there isn’t any inbreeding. The murder of the parents almost secures that now one will be searching for the child.”

“Since they have a healthy girl, we must assume that they will attempt to leave the area in order to start new lives, probably in another corner of the state or even over state lines. We need the local police to keep an eye out for any abandoned vehicles, especially RV’s and mobile homes. In addition, we should also alert the nearest malls to be on the lookout for a Romani couple. This “family” will try to reinvent themselves. If we allow them to slip through our fingers, we probably will never be able to locate them. Any questions?”

“One question,” A.J. stated, “What about the girl who called 9-1-1? Sammy. Her car is still parked in the drive way and no bodies were found anywhere in or around the house.”

“We must assume that the unsubs still have her. She was a surprise in their plans, so your guess is as best as mine to whether she is still alive.”

---

Sammy finally regained consciousness. However, she didn’t know where she was. It was dark and she smelled something was burning. Gas probably. Sammy tried to sit up, but she immediately banged her head against the roof of whatever she was trapped in.

Suddenly, someone opened up the compartment in which Sammy had been imprisoned from the outside, which apparently turned out to be the trunk of that car which she saw at the Clark’s house. In front of Sammy stood a middle-aged man along with a young boy, no older than eleven years. Behind them was an RV, or rather what use to be an RV because it had been set on fire.

The man and his son were speaking to one another, although Sammy could not understand any of it because they were speaking in a foreign tongue. After a couple seconds of conversation, the father and the son pulled Sammy out of the trunk and dragged her a few yards away from the burning inferno that the RV was.

Also around the burning RV was a middle-aged woman, obviously the man’s wife and the boy’s mother. In her arms she held a young girl, the girl whom they had just kidnapped form the Clark’s residence.

“Lauren!” Sammy said, “Don’t worry, everything will be alright.”

“Her name isn’t Lauren. It’s Sylvia,” the woman said to Sammy.”

“No, it’s Lauren Clark,” Sammy snapped back.

“No, it’s SYLVIA!” the woman barked at Sammy.

Suddenly, the father seized Sammy from behind and threw her onto the ground. The son then placed a collar around her neck, while his father pounded a stake into the ground that connected to the collar. Sammy did not know what was going on. If they would just leave her there, would that not leave a key witness behind?

The father walked over to the son and kneed down so that they faced face-to-face.

“This will be your last opportunity to practice for quite some time. Make sure you make it count,” the father said, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“I always wanted a cat as a pet. Why can’t we keep her?”

The father just smiled at his son’s suggestion, rubbing his hand through his son’s hair. He then led his son in front of Sammy, placing his hands on his shoulders from behind.

“Don’t forget the vocal cords,” the father whispered into his son’s ears. The child turned his head and gave his father a smile. Then he turned back to Sammy and placed his hands onto her face.

Christopher Arthur III | Ramsey Golaird (written by VATROU)
Chris frantically attempted to restore equilibrium to his armor. While his energy shield had protected Chris from any physical damage the sonic boom could have done, the shockwave still pushed the shielding back, carrying Chris along for the ride. If this “ride” had lasted any longer, Chris thought he would have been sick.

Once Chris had finally activated several safety protocols and failsafe systems, his armor finally leveled out and became perpendicular with the ground, the armor’s equilibrium finally restored. Now with everything back to normal, Chris could finally turn his attention back towards Ramsey.

Chris knew that he needed to end this skirmish as soon as possible. Chris had come to Lost Haven in order to aid in the ending of Nightmare’s reign of terror, by the request of the Director of S.T.R.I.K.E. Just last night, Nightmare had struck for the fourth time. And now he had a partner, too, according to the message that Nightmare left for the world to see. Time was of the essence now.

While he knew that Ramsey seemed naturally gifted in the physical sense, Chris still had an advantage or two over him. Besides being able to fly (although Chris guessed that Ramsey might be able to emulate flight, just as Superman did in his early comics), Chris could think strategically. While Ramsey might be able to do the same, Chris could tell that Ramsey just chose not to do so.

Chris first thought of an aerial-to-ground strike might be the preferred option in this situation. Even if Ramsey could jump up and reach Chris, Chris could still maneuver while in midair. However, Chris rejected this idea because he feared what would happened if Ramsey would unleash another sonic boom while Chris was airborne.

Then another idea struck Chris, Ramsey seemed like a pretty self-centered person. The type who would probably enjoyed listening to himself speak. He was already ranting about clouds and a hot dog stand. Getting this guy to talk did not seem like a very difficult task.

Chris flew towards Ramsey, landing several feet away. Ramsey had already started to taunt Chris, calling him the Tin Man. What did he think, that Chris had no heart? If he was trying to get at it that Chris was a coward, Ramsey used the wrong character from the Wizard of Oz.

“Okay, Toto,” Chris began, “If you want to know my name, you’re in luck, for I go by many names. I am called Daedalos by some, Theophonos by others. But you can call the Iron Knight. So what’s your game, Toto?”

Ramsey walked over to the now abandoned hot dog cart. The smell of hot franks and fresh mustard permeating his nose, and he inhaled the fresh aroma. Behind him Iron Knight spun around in an attempt to regain control, he looked like a top rolling around in the air. By the time Iron Knight finally restored his balance Ramsey was already eating one of the hot dogs, while six lay in buns, covered in a line of mustard. As the Tin Man landed a few feet away he called out. Calling Ramsey Toto, after Dorothy's dog. While he himself used a myriad of names Daedalos, and Theophonos. Then his current name Iron Knight.

“Ah! So that’s how you’re playing this? Well I too am known by many names, Jerk, Prick, Ass, Hung Stud, No really I’ve been called that in bed before, and well Ramsey. But since you have the whole Hero name thing, how’s about you call me, King? Nah that sounds terrible, Emperor, Alright that's even worse. Ohh I got it! I’ve always liked Greek Mythology, Ares the God of War!” He said his arm moving through the air as if motioning the name. “Now that’s a Name! And as to my game, it’s quite simple really! I just have nothing else better to do.”

“So, you call yourself Ares,” Chris replied to Ramsey, “Well, that name fits with all the other “names” that you have claimed to have been called. There were two war deities in Greek religion: Ares and Athena. I wonder what it says about the two if you consider that Athena was on the winning side of the Trojan War? Anyway, you’ll just in luck for naming yourself after a god because I am called Theophonos. In ancient Greek, Theophonos means ‘God-Slayer’. A fitting title if I say so myself.”

“Well, then, I will say it again. Stand down, Ares. If you refuse, then I suggestion you pick a god and pray”. As Chris finished his last warning to Ramsey, a red flash of light emitted from his right hand and it grew brighter and larger with each passing second. Before either of the two combatants knew it, Chris held a long, red lightning bolt like projectile in his arm. Smaller electric bursts leapt from the bulk of the weapon, just like mini lightning bolts weaving through the air. Chris gripped the energy projectile in his hand, awaiting Ramsey’s next move.

“OOH A God-Slayer,” Hehe “Well aren’t I lucky. So tell me ever killed a God? A title is only good when you have the reputation to back it up.” Ramsey began circling Iron Knight, stopping in front of a manhole cover. Iron Knight gave what he thought was a final warning, holding some sort of lightning bolt. As sparks crackled in the air. Ramsey’s first thought was, well of more hot dogs. As he looked back to the cart quickly, but he wouldn’t have much time to chow down again, the six he already had would have to be enough for now.

Perhaps, he thought looking around only to spot a hydrant, it didn’t take much thought to realize that water and electricity don’t mix. And lucky for him, he had a perfect frisbee.

“So tell me God-Slayer?” He said mockingly. “What’s your hurry, what could be more important than killing a God?” Ramsey say down on his haunches his hands resting just above the manhole cover, his talking only bought his a few more seconds at least, while he slowly planned his next attack.

Chris prepared to hurl his energy pilum toward Ramsey. However, before he did so, Chris saw that Ramsey repositioned himself over a manhole in the street. Ramsey took a quick glance toward a nearby fire hydrant and then returned his focus back towards Chris. Chris deduced that Ramsey was planning to toss the manhole cover either directly at Chris or at the hydrant with hopes that the water would do something to his energy pilum. Fortunately for Chris, his energy pilum was composed of energy similar to Iron Man’s repulsor rays. It just mimicked the appearance of electricity.

“You should take your own advice, Ramsey. The gods don’t take it kindly when mortals claim to be immortals. We have all of Greek and Roman mythology to understand what would happen to those indivivduals.”

At last, Chris started to throw the energy pilum toward Ramsey, just like a baseball pitcher hurling a pitch toward home base. However, before the pilum left his hand, the energy weapon dissipated, leaving nothing behind. However, two projectiles launched from Chris’ back: 2 round and 2 cylinderlike objects. When the round projectiles struck the ground before Ramsey, a giant flash went off. The other two projectiles followed suit, releasing a giant cloud of smoke in order to impair Ramsey’s eyesight.

Once the smokescreen had fully enshrouded Ramsey and after Chris switched visual modes so that he could still see Ramsey within the obstructing cloud, Chris immediately charged toward the cloud of smoke. The energy portion of his sword had now been activated, emitting the same energy that had composed his energy pilum. Now Chris had switched roles from pitcher to batter. Luckily his father taught him how to correctly swing a bat.

Christopher Arthur III | Ramsey Golaird (written by VATROU)
Ramsey listened as This Iron Knight, said something about taking his own advice. About how the Gods don’t like to be trifled with. It didn’t matter to him, Man or God or even Alien. If it bleeds it can die. Likewise, this Iron Knight was just that. A man in a suit. Without it unable to lift a finger against him. Though that still makes him dangerous, and he’s still in a advantageous position. Although Ramsey was powerful, his limits had not been fully tested yet. Even he wasn’t fully aware of them.

As Ramsey lifted the manhole cover Iron Knight made his move as well. Ramsey was enveloped in smoke. The initial energy pilum was nothing more than a feint. He lifted the Manhole cover as a shield, and fully expected Iron Knight to charge him in the smoke. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust, his power allowing him to change the light spectrum perceived by his mind. As Iron Knight swung his energy sword, Ramsey countered with the impromptu shield. It began to cut through the metal as if it were wax. Ramsey charged forward shield raised trying to use the last of the shield before it was rendered useless, he kicked his leg just behind his opponent, his arm holding the shield retracted, as he went to bash through his energy shielding. Iron Knight was pushed back and right into Ramsey’s leg as it swept upwards into the back of Iron Knights thighs.

While engaged in combat with Ramsey, Chris felt an intense pain in his thigh. Thanks to his armor, Chris probably will only be aching in the morning, but the blow still forced Chris onto his knee. Somehow, Ramsey was able to strike Chris in the back of the leg, while he was attempting to shield himself from Chris’ initial assault.

However, even though Ramsey was able to drop Chris to a knee, Chris’s sword still sliced through the manhole cover that Ramsey had used as a makeshift shield. The sword pierced through Ramsey’s last the defense and dismembered his right arm from the rest of his body. Even though the sword sliced through Ramsey's right side, Ramsey's body immediately rearranged its cellular composition in order to compensate for the incoming attack. While in most cases this tactic would protect Ramsey from most conventional weapons, Chris' energy-enhanced sword was not completely countered by the new properties of Ramsey's skin.

The wound was immediately cauterized up due to the nature of Chris’ sword. Even though the bulk of the sword was actually made of solid metal, Chris developed a way to apply energy to the sword so that it would mimic a similar weapon that had been wielded by the assailant who attempted to murder Albrecht Macros a few weeks ago.

When Chris looked up to see Ramsey’s response to losing an arm, he was surprised to see that his opponent did not appear to look worried at all. It almost as if Ramsey knew that losing that arm did not mean anything, as if he knew he could regrow or reattach it or something.

“That’s definitely not a flesh wound,” Chris said Ramsey.

Ramsey had brought his opponent down, he was on one knee and Ramsey intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately his shield didn’t last that long. Iron Knight finished off, sliced right through and chopped off his right arm. Ramsey could tell even without looking his arm was gone. He needed to remember to pick it up after the fight. But for now, he needed to immobilize that sword arm. He in what seemed to be Iron Knights confusion, grabbed his arm. And the two began fighting over the sword.

No doubt he had other advanced weapons at his disposal, but right now, his sword was all that mattered. Ramsey’s left, was more than enough to hold off Iron Knight keeping his sword arm at bay. And in such close range he excelled in fighting. Back in Italy the martial art, Savate was rather popular. It involved punches and kicks. Sort of a cross between Muay Thai, and Boxing, it focused on the kicks, primarily while wearing shoes. And less on the elbows or knees that Muay Thai was well known for. While the two contested for the sword, Ramsey threw out several kicks using his shin, and foot. Visibly hurting Iron Knight, but in that armor to what extent he questioned?

“Perfect Perfect, just fucking Perfect! It’s been a long time since I was so excited. This makes those Assassins look like children in comparison. While I’m in such a good mood, let me tell you something. In the Underground there’s a price on my head. My old bosses weren’t too happy with me leaving and spilling the beans. A lot of people are going to die you know, just so they can find me. I’ve killed more than a few they sent, but they’re not playing around. Soon the guys with Infamous level status will be circling this city, guys who’ve killed Presidents, and Dictators, and even some of the biggest Supers out there in foreign countries. It’s a death warrant to leave the Underground you know, all those pretty little secrets they keep. And I intend to be the last man standing, even if I have to root them out from under what rocks they come from. Anyways I’ve talked long enough, what’s say we finish up here.”

Chris knew that he was currently at a disadvantage, even though Ramsey had lost one of his arms. Chris was on one knee and his opponent was already trying to disarm Chris of his sword. Chris had to act fast in order to prevent Ramsey from overtaking him. If Chris couldn’t handle this talkative whack job, how could he even try to face this current serial killer named Nightmare? How could Chris equalize Ramsey’s advantage?

The Sky. Chris would be more mobile in the air, while Ramsey would probably struggle to dodge Chris’ attacks. Chris sent a jolt of electricity into his sword, causing Ramsey’s remaining hand to tighten around the handle of the sword. Once he had adhered Ramsey’s hand to his sword, Chris activated the flight protocols. Chris, with Ramsey along for the ride, darted faster and faster into the sky above the city of Lost Haven.

Once he had reached several hundred feet above the tallest buildings in Lost Haven, Chris reduced his velocity. Ramsey was still dangling from the metal-clad hero’s sword, although this would not be true for long. Chris deactivated the electric current that had kept Ramsey adhered to the sword.

“I hope you can fly,” Chris said to Ramsey as the metahuman struggled to hang onto the sword hilt. Then, suddenly, Chris released a great burst of electricity that encircled him. While Chris’ power-suit provided him ample protection from the damaging power of the electricity, Ramsey, on the other hand, was not so fortunate.

The two struggled over the sword, but soon, Iron Knight sent a jolt of electricity through Ramsey’s remaining hand. Locking it in place. As Iron Knight took skyward, his suit streaked through the air while Ramsey hung off the sword. He seemed to enjoy it, his grim covering his face had no signs of worry. Underneath it he still had his fears, but the excitement overcame them all. The view was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Once they past the highest building, Iron Knight reduced his speed. And the current of electricity was cut from the sword. Ramsey knew what was coming next.

But to him it wasn’t something he immediately concerned himself with. With a witty remark Iron Knight sent a current through Ramsey’s body. Fortunately his skin after the initial electricity burst, had changed it’s outer properties, reducing the conductivity of it. Still it hurt quite a lot. More than even he expected. But there he was still hanging off of Iron Knight, grinning from cheek to cheek. “Well check out that view, magnificent isn’t it?” He said looking out over the city. “Darling, I usually like a second date before we see the city intimately like this.” He said jokingly, while he pulled himself up with his arm, and wrapped his legs around his opponent, before releasing his hand and grabbing the helmet.” I don’t know what most of this tech is? But this helmet must have some optical sensors, smashing it would probably disrupt your vision right?” As his grip tightened damaging several important looking bits of tech in the helmet. “After he leaned back horizontally, arm extended. “ So fun dance! Right. I know I know. You should talk more, the whole silent act is boorish. Anyways this is my stop! Let’s have fun again later.”

Ramsey’s legs let go, as he fell backwards. “This is gonna hurt.” As he continued to fall, he spiraled in the air, twirling and twisting, mostly of his own accord. The fall wouldn’t kill him, it at worst would break most of his bones, but his healing factor would kick in, soon enough. His eyes looked downwards, a large building caught his fall, as he crashed through several floors, tumbling and colliding with each floor of the downtown apartment building. As he fell to the third floor, living room. He laid there for a minute, his face with some broken floorboard going through it. His body bled over the floor. As he laid motionless for a full minute. Before he began to stir.

He slowly stood up, and removed the floorboard from his head, and began to limp over to the fridge, opening the door. “God, damit! Vegetarians.. Just what I need. Well at least they like their beer.” He said as he quickly chugged it, knowing full well Iron Knight would soon be coming. But by the time he got there, he would be gone. And by now the police were already swarming the scene and his arm would be evidence. No doubt my car would be impounded. No big deal, just break in later. He thought to himself. Before leaving. Leaving a pool of blood behind.

Meanwhile, Chris hovered above the city as he watched Ramsey plummet towards the ground. By the way Ramsey had acted when his arm was cut off, Chris concluded that this fall would not be the end of the metahuman. Chris would have went after this man, but he needed to make several repairs to his armor, especially since his suit was running on an auxiliary visual monitor system. Chris watched for a few more moments and then set coordinates for the S.T.R.I.K.E. base. While in-course to the S.T.R.I.K.E. facility, Chris switched on a secure S.T.R.I.K.E. frequency.

"S.T.R.I.K.E. base, this is Iron Knight. I am coming in for some minor repairs and for the preparation for this "Nightmare" killer.

It had been just over a week since Kyle had last seen Addie. In the days that followed her abrupt departure, he had tried calling her numerous times. At first, he tried calling her several times a day, to no avail. Eventually, his attempts to call her became less frequent, until he finally gave up altogether. He did want to be there for her while she was dealing with whatever it was that she was going through, however, she made it impossible for him to do so. He knew that whatever it was that had happened must have been important for her to leave the way she did, and he tried not to take it personally. However, that was easier said than done.

His friends had been supportive. Dmitri and Hannah had treated him to dinner and a movie, and Ronnie had been there to talk when he needed to, giving him a full serving of well intention sarcasm which temporarily had brought him out of his funk. Even Keri had been somewhat nice, having refrained from hitting him with a barrage of insults at every opportunity. It was Sam, however, who had been there for him more than anyone else over the last week.

She sat with him and they talked for hours, not just about Addie’s sudden departure, but the drama with Keri that had arisen after their breakup, and then intensified after Kyle had started seeing Addie. Sam had been there for Kyle whenever he needed someone to talk to, or even when he just needed to be near someone. They didn’t have to say a word, they could just sit there silently and just having her near him was a comfort. However, when he was in need of sage-like advice, she would provide it.

“You can sit there and be butt-hurt, or you can move on. It’s not like you guys were together all that long.” She had told him in the commuter café while they ate lunch one day. Or, more accurately, while she ate lunch and he moved his shepherd’s pie around on this plate.

While his friends had been supportive as he coped with his latest heartbreak, Harry was less than sympathetic. He had scolded Kyle for bringing an outsider to the Garage, regardless if she had been another meta or not. He had needlessly compromised the security of their operation, and that was unacceptable. Harry had kept Kyle busy over the course of the week, having him investigate a series of robberies and muggings that may be somehow connected to the recent child abductions within the city.
He had also had Kyle keeping watch for the so called “Nightmare Killer,” as well as the organization that pursued it, STRIKE.

In his travels, Harry had heard of STRIKE. However, he had always thought that they were just some black ops outfit that chased down stories of UFO sightings. However, it looked as if he had been wrong in that assessment, and knew that he would need to get better information on exactly what the organization was all about. He would get the truth about STRIKE, however, at the moment there were more important matters to attend to.

The “man” calling himself Nightmare had been terrorizing the city for days. The slaughter of a family had only been the beginning of the killer’s rampage. Most recently, the murderous psychopath had dispatched an entire rave, along with a STRIKE unit, and if rumors were to be believed, possibly Icon himself.

The fact that the city’s most prominent hero might very well have been defeated by this new threat gave Harry great pause. He knew that if Icon wasn’t able to stop this mad killer, Kyle had no chance of stopping the monster’s reign of terror. However, despite knowing the risks, Harry sent him out into the night in hopes of finding something, anything that will bring his murderous rampage to an end.

As Kyle climbed into the recently repaired Kaiju, he drove off into the night with only one rule:

"Do what you can, but do not engage Nightmare directly."

Ramsey Golaird

Ramsey headed to the door of the Apartment he fell multiple floors through. As he grasped the knob, he looked back and thought it was odd that he wasn’t followed, though the sounds of sirens on the street snapped him out of his train of thought. As he made his way to the window at the end of the hall. Heavy boots could be heard stomping up the stairwell as radios crackled and dogs howled below. Most likely this was a unit specifically made for Supers such as himself, and were well trained. He couldn’t waste anymore time as he rushed the window lungs pumping leaping towards the next building as he crashed through the wall. He took a moment to take in his surroundings before he quickly raided the fridge, anything high in fat, a tub of lard would be excellent right now, but finding anyone in this day and age would still cooks with it is exceedingly rare among most ethnicities. Except Mexicans? Maybe. Doesn’t matter. All that was in the fridge was nothing more than leftovers. “Asian food, me minds me of a girl I knew, an hour later she still wanted more. Aha.” The police unit began it’s move on Ramsey again, and he knew it.

The chase was on! As Ramsey led the police on a long chase through town, trying to head back to where his car was in the hopes they still had yet to move it. As he ran chest thumping lungs throbbing he was running on empty, the food he managed to snag on the way simply wasn’t enough, he desperately needed a buffet or a quadruple bypass burger. With flatliner fries, now that’s good eating. Pushing open a door gunfire erupted as the unit opened fire as bullets tore through Ramsey and the walls, it’s the first time in his life where he’s been pushed into a corner. His lack of planning and his irresponsible waste of his resources have cost him his arm, and his safety. And it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on mistakes, giving anything that much thought just wasn’t in his nature, he always leaped first and dealt with the consequences later.

Either side of the hall would’ve taken him to the street, he dashed to his left breaking through to the kitchen, as an elderly couple was enjoying a meal they looked in shock as Ramsey burst into their home. He eyed a box of twinkies as the police continued to chase him even after he broke through the window, he fell to street level as more and more cops surrounded him.”Halt! Lost Haven Police, come quietly and keep your hands where we can see them!” They shouted, Ramsey glanced around him, casually eating a handful of twinkies. It was enough for a boost but not long, they moved into position as Ramsey began to move, a Phantom Boost sent him flying across the street and miles out of sight. But still if he lingered they’d catch up with him again, so he ducked down an alley and backtracked towards his car. Which was just being hooked up to be towed away, the driver munching on some burger while he brought he hook over and it latched on. The sound of metal slamming against itself as he went around to the driver side to operate the crank. As Ramsey walked up, the crank wound up making several mechanical sounds. The driver turned around to see Ramsey backhand him out cold. He took the time to lift the heavy set man into the seat, and removed the winch. The sounds of police sirens could be heard yet again, driving around in circles looking for him, wherever he might be? As the car engine started up, and he stepped n the gas he drove off, looking for a place to lay low. And a Face Maker, essentially a well connected individual who helped with identity problems. Like changing the plates or look of a car, or new Identification Cards, Passports, Social Security cards, and whatnot.

As his Plymouth drove down the road, he took caution to avoid patrols still looking for him, he had to admit that between the Supers around the city, and it’s police force they were good. But still he’d only seen a few of the Heros this city had, and he’d yet to see any villains. So where ever they were, they had contacts in the city. And right now Ramsey needed a few, And only the seediest parts of town guaranteed a meeting with some of the worst and best it had to offer. And where else then the Warehouse district. Where underground fighting, and Drug deals took place, but first he thought, pulling up to a drive through window, time for some grub.

“Welcome to Grease Buns, home of the Thunder Patties and Womper Shakes.” A young man spoke in a high pitched crackly voice.”May I take your order?”

“Twenty Thunder Patties, and three Womper Shakes to go! I got a party later, and I’m gonna need a lot of food.”

“Right! Well head on up to the window and pay the cashier…” The young worker said as Ramsey drove on up, and waited for his order to be filled, about six minutes later bags upon bags were handed to him, as he threw them in the back seat and drove off to eat, needing all the calories he could get.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Zac woke up to the smell of smoke. Behind the cover of smoke stood a forest of trees, or at least that what it looked like to Zac. While the smoke did not impair his sight too much, it still produced a foul odor, causing Zac to cover his mouth. Next to him was Kelly, who was also starting to wake up from their recent encounter with the ‘S.T.R.I.K.E.’ agent.

Zac wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, trying to give her some solace from all the hectic things that had happened to them over the last couple of days. Kelly, in response, pressed her head against Zac’s chest, welcoming Zac’s caring embrace.

Then Kelly and Zac heard a piercing cry that sent chills down their spines. Both of the young metahumans turned their attention toward the cry and started to wade through the smoke in that direction. Once they made it out into the clearing, they saw a huge fire engulfing an abandoned RV.

As Kelly and Zac approached the burning inferno, they saw an old car driving off away from the area. However, for the moment, Zac and Kelly focused on what they saw before them.

As they came closer, Zac and Kelly spotted a silhouette in front of the burning vehicle. Whatever it was, it was tethered down by a rope. It paced back and forth on all four legs; occasionally it would cease from pacing and try to claw at the stake that pinned the rope down. Once while it was pacing, the thing happened to catch sight of both Zac and Kelly. For a few seconds, it stared at the two metahumans; however, immediately afterwards, it turned its head away, almost as if in shame.

“Do you see that?” Zac asked his girlfriend, gesturing toward the silhouette.

“While I am not 100 percent certain, it looks almost like a cat. That’s what my guess would be.” Kelly knew that something seemed off about this creature, but she could not place her finger on it. Was it the head?

“It can’t be a cat. It’s too large for a regular housecat.” However, after Zac replied to Kelly’s guess, both of the youths heard a ‘meow’. Kelly turned to her boyfriend after they both heard the creature’s voice, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side as if she was signaling that she was right.

“Really? Do dogs ever ‘meow’?” Kelly replied to her boyfriend with a smile. Zac just shrugged his shoulders and advanced toward the silhouette.

When Zac and Kelly saw that whatever was in front of them did not make any aggressive moves or calls at them, they continued to approach it until Zac was in reach of the tether. Zac grasped the rope with one hand and sliced through it with the claw on the other. Kelly swooped down and picked up the creature into her arms.

The creature was shaking profusely, although it was not caused by being cold, but by shock. Kelly tried to calm it down by rubbing its back with her hand. Knowing that it would probably help calm it down, Kelly moved her hand up to the creatures head, rubbing between its ears. However, when she placed her hand on its head, she felt a different hair texture than the hairs that she felt on its back. In fact, she grasped a ponytail in her fingers!

Kelly immediately turned the creature around in order to see what exactly it was. It was definitely a cat, or at least from the neck down. Zac was correct that it was not a regular sized housecat, but it was cat nevertheless. The cat had to be that size because it needed a body that could support its human head.

Kelly screamed when she saw the bizarre appearance of the cat, immediately dropping it from her hands. Stereotypically, the cat landed on all four feet, even in spite of Kelly’s shock from seeing what looked like a cat with a human head. It backed away from Kelly, although it made sure not to go too far back because of the burning vehicle that was in the vicinity.

“What the hell?” Kelly exclaimed, “It looks like something straight from Tim Burton’s imagination!”

“Um, Kelly.” Zac said to his girlfriend as he realized whose head was attached to the feline body.

“What?”

“I think you should look a little more closely,” Zac said, taking a deep breath before he continued, “I think that’s your long-time friend, Sammy.” As Zac completed his statement, the cat turned its head toward Zac and began to shake her head up and down, appearing to acknowledge that Zac was indeed correct in his assumption.

Kelly bent over in order to get a better look at the cat’s face, lowering her head to Sammy’s eye level. “Sammy?” Kelly engulfed her transformed friend in a giant four-armed hug, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Zac placed his hands on Kelly’s shoulders, attempting to pull her off from her best friend. “Kelly, I think you’re suffocating her.”

Kelly pulled away from Sammy, placing her hands over her mouth. After Kelly released her grip on her friend, Sammy stumbled backwards, coughing her lungs out as she tried to catch her breath. Once Sammy recovered from Kelly’s strong grip, she started to scratch something into the ground.

“What is she writing?” Zac peered over Sammy, trying to get a better view.

Once Sammy had finished digging her feline claws into the earth, she stood back and revealed what she had just written. Three letters was engraved into the hard ground: C-A-R. Kelly and Zac pondered what this could mean. What does a car have to do with anything?

“Wait,” Zac said as a light bulb illuminated within his head, “I remember seeing a car leave when we caught sight of the fire.” Zac turned to Sammy, crouching down so that they could see eye-to-eye. “Did the person who did this to you leave in a car?”

Sammy again bobbled her head vertically. Therefore, Zac embraced his girlfriend, planting a kiss on her forehead, between her antennae. Then, immediately afterwards, Zac dashed in the direction that he had seen the car depart. Kelly tried to reach out for her boyfriend, but she just extended her hands in vain.

“I hate it when he does that.” Kelly turned her glaze to her feline friend, pulling back her hair into a ponytail. “I almost died the last time he left all the sudden.”

Sammy walked up to Kelly and rubbed her side against Kelly’s leg. Kelly picked up her friend and cradled Sammy in her arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything once all this is over.” When she heard Kelly’s promise, Sammy purred. She reached up and licked Kelly on the cheek.

“Okay, that was weird.” Kelly looked down on her friend, wiping off the saliva from her cheek and flinging it off her hand. “You’re not secretly into girls, are you?” Kelly giggled as she pressed one of her hands against Sammy’s nose. After she heard her friend jokingly accuse her of being a lesbian, Sammy’s eyes grew as she opened her eyes wide and she responded by rapidly shaking her head horizontally.

“Is it because your head is attached to a cat’s body?” Sammy shook her head for a second time, but in the opposite direction. “Don’t worry,” Kelly promised while smiling at her friend, “I won’t tell anyone that you like girls.” Sammy hissed at her friend in response to Kelly’s false statement.

“God, it was just a joke.” Kelly rolled her dark eyes in response to Sammy apprehension toward Kelly’s so-called joke.

Suddenly, four vehicles, two of which were local Albany police cars, pulled up to the site. Almost a dozen officers and agents leapt out of their vehicles and pointed their weapons at Kelly, not taking any risks against a metahuman.

“FREEZE!” one of the FBI agents yelled as he slowly approached Kelly. “Put your hands up and slowly move away from the...” However, when the FBI agent saw what, or rather more accurately who, Kelly was holding, he found that no words could come out of his mouth. Even after his initial shock dissipated, the agent could only utter a few words. “What the hell?”

Aubrey Adkins
Note to self: make my roommates purchase for me a new alarm clock. Couldn’t they have thought of a better way for waking me up, like allowing me to just wake up naturally? No, they had to pry away at me for what had happened since I went missing. And what do I get out of it? I lose a couple hours of sleep.

Now that I was down one clock, there was only one obvious consequence of my roommates’ actions: I would oversleep. I did not use my cell phone as my morning alarm because I feared that it would suffer the same fate that my bedroom clock did last night. Heck, I was just lucky that my Spider-Senses allowed me to wake up before I slept in way past noon.

I rushed through my daily routine that I would usually do prior to my classes. I didn’t have the luxury of time to follow my regular routine. In fact even if I had started to walk to class as soon as I woke up, the class would have started before I even arrived in my seat. I had only one idea left and I knew that it was a bad one.

In my room the, I activated the costume up function of the wristband device that I received after I up to up was kidnapped For the second time. The spider-themed red and blue costume slowly crept up my body, first replacing my shoes and pants, and then the rest of my clothes.

I pulled open my bedroom window. A cold, wintry gust blew into my face, welcoming me with its chilling kiss. Am I insane? Am I going outside during mid-January while wearing a skin-tight super-hero outfit?

Well, if I would be judged by my next actions, I would be legally declared insane. I crawled out of my window, closing it as I exited the building. I should have looked both ways before leaving my apartment window, but my spider-sense wasn’t giving me a headache, so I just assumed it was safe to leave.

With each step I made up the side of the apartment, I could fell the frigid temperature of the wall. Even through my mask, I could see my breath. Small specks of snow began to descend from the sky, lazily floating down to the earth.

Great. On the one day that I over slept (although that wasn’t my fault) and I needed to use my powers to get to class on time, it starts to snow on me. That’s Ohio for you. One day, its nice and sunny and on the very next day, we could well have a blizzard on our hands.

Well, anyways, I need to get my mind focused on my goal, getting to class. I peered down toward the street, trying to get my bearings. Once I figured out my intended path, I prepared myself for the long jump over to the neighboring building. I hadn’t tried this yet, but at least my healing factor would prevent me from dying, right? I have that going for me.

Once I made enough room for my running start, I dashed toward the edge of the building, planting my feet prior to the ledge of the building. Before I knew it, I had both legs planted on the roof of the adjacent building to my apartment.

I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With each step, my legs felt like jelly. Did I really just do that? Did I just jump across to the building right next to my apartment? I just was standing on the roof right behind me and now I am on the other side of the street. Logic shows that I must have made the jump.

I have to admit that my next move was kind of rash and not entirely well thought out. For some strange reason, I thought it was an excellent idea to perform a forward handspring before I made my jump. It would have been cool if I actually succeeded. Well, technically, I did reach the next building’s roof. I just had to reach out and grab the ledge or I would have fallen down a few stories to the ground.

Before I could pull myself up, a black-clad foot stomped on hand, forcing that hand to let go of the ledge. When I raised my head up to see who it was, I saw a women dressed entirely in black, besides a single red hour-glass symbol on her lower abdomen.

“There’s only room for one spider-themed character in this tome.” The woman began to press down on my other hand, causing my grip to fail. One by one, each of my fingers started to let go under the woman’s pressure. It looks like I’m not going to class today.

In the emergency situational response bunker buried beneath the Lost Haven STRIKE outpost known as “The Mill,” Director Alexander Anderson sat at the round conference table, which some STRIKE administrators had joked resembled the famous Roundtable of Arthurian legend.

Seated to Anderson’s left was Nathan Sterling, an analyst who specialized in studying criminal behavior and predicting future behaviors based on past tendencies. He was exceedingly good at his job, having correctly predicted the actions of hundreds of perpetrators over the years. Everything from arsonists to serial killers, many of whom had been incorrectly labeled us completely random and unpredictable had been brought to justice because of his uncanny eye for detail. To date, the only criminal that Sterling had been unable to pin down was the monstrous killer known as Nightmare.

Though Sterling had correctly predicted the killer’s movements in the past, Nightmare remained elusive. Often being just one step ahead of Sterling’s predictions. On the occasions that Sterling’s predictions matched up with the killer’s movements, Nightmare simply slaughtered those who went after him, leaving a trail of blood and body parts all over the globe.

Marcus Ryder sat on Anderson’s right. The two men went back nearly twenty years, serving in the same black ops unit in their active duty days. Over the years, the two men had become the best of friends. Ryder was one of the few men that Anderson trusted explicitly, and often sent him on missions that were especially sensitive.

The three men had been seated at the table for hours, discussing the current crisis, and their apparent inability to put an end to it, at length. Most disturbing to Anderson, was the most recent attack, in which the now infamous killer had slaughtered an entire warehouse full of ravers, as well as an elite STRIKE tactical response unit, and quite possibly the hero known as Icon himself.

“Sterling, can you give us any insights into what his next move might be?” Anderson finally asked after taking a sip of his coffee, which by this point had gone stale. He cringed at the taste of the less than fresh drink and waited for an answer.

“In a word, no. Over the years, Nightmare has been consistent with his actions. He has historically followed a pre-described path of action. But this time, he’s changing things up a bit. He’s only loosely following his historical patterns.” Sterling explained.

“Which means what, exactly?” Ryder asked, seemingly irritated by the analyst.
“It means he hasn’t got a goddamned clue.” Anderson said curtly. “Marcus, have we been able to get any further intel on what happened at the rave, and where Icon has gone off to?”

“Not as of yet. We do know that Icon was severely injured when he engaged Nightmare and whoever his partner was. We collected blood samples from the scene and our people are looking at them, but we don’t know what happened to Icon, or if he’s even still alive.” Ryder reported.

“We do know that he left the scene though. So we could assume that he is.” Anderson said, almost questioning.

“I don’t know Alex, there was a lot of blood, he was hurt badly. If he were still alive, you might assume that he’d have been seen by now.” Ryder said matter of factly.

“Like you said, he was injured badly. He may need some time to recover.” Anderson said, pausing momentarily. “But we have to move forward under the assumption that he won’t be here to help us with this problem.” He finished.

“Right.” Ryder agreed.

“I’ve already sent word to Arthur to report to Lost Haven to take point in this operation. He hit a little snag on his way, but he’s here now.” Anderson explained.

“Do you think he’ll be able to end this? Icon wasn’t a match, and we’re not even sure what the capabilities of the Daedalos Mk. 5 armor are.” Sterling cut in.

“No better time like the present to find out.” Anderson said as he got up from the table, abruptly ending the meeting before Sterling could object.

***

Director Alexander Anderson made his way down the hallway of “The Mill.” As he made his way towards the facility’s hangar bay, where vehicles and equipment was often stored while it was being repaired, or otherwise deployed, STRIKE agents acknowledged his presence with a buzz of concern and excitement. Though he was well known within the agency, it was a rare occurrence that he was out and about among the rank and file.

His presence meant that something big was going on, and many of them assumed that it had something to do with the Nightmare Crisis, as it had been come to be called. However, they had no way to know that for certain. An agency as big as STRIKE often had hundreds of operations going on simultaneously, and his arrival here could be due to any one of them.

Anderson came to a large door, which resembled a safe door more than anything else. He swiped his security access card, the lights around the terminal turned green as the door began to slide open. As he entered the hangar, he saw a number of advanced land and air vehicles, some still in the development stage, all waiting for their opportunity to be tested in the field. As he moved among the many vehicles, he felt a sense of pride at what the organization had been able to accomplish on a technological level, and looked forward to seeing the vehicles in action one day soon.

As he walked through the labyrinth of technological wonders, he was able to hear some commotion within the hangar, perhaps a hundred yards from his current position. As he heard the conversation that was taking place, he knew that he had found who he was looking for, an assumption that was confirmed when he made his way around one of STRIKE’s newest vehicles, a pilot-less drone that had been developed for a wide range of operations. As he moved past the drone, he saw a man in a high tech suit of armor, as well as several techs that were assisting him with repairs.

Anderson made his way over to the man, and speaking cheerfully as possible, greeted the man.

“Rough day, Mr. Arthur?” Anderson asked nonchalantly. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Director Alexander Anderson, and I think it’s time we had a chat.”

Samarkset, Crimson King

The clouds formed a dense cover over the blue sky. A farmer looked up and thanked God; there had been a drought.
"May!" he shouted back towards a small hut in the middle of the field, a hut that served as his home. "Get out the buckets! Storm's a-comin!"
Their house had a rather large issue with the leaky roof, which tends to happen when you and your wife are the only one actively maintaining it, and for that matter, the only ones who built it in the first place.

This, as you may already have guessed, was no ordinary rainstorm.

The clouds began moving in a circular vortex, a hole opening in the middle and going up as high as anyone could see. The farmer, whose name was Billy Bob Joe Junior (I kid you not) watched with something of awe and horror as he retreated towards his house, unable to take his eyes off the impending disaster.

The hole began glowing with a strange red light, and flickers of crimson energy appeared in other places along the cloud, which now covered Billy's entire visibility of the sky. He slowly stepped back onto the porch, his face now more horror than awe. His wife, May, stepped out of the hut, and almost said something, before she saw the cloud and adopted Billy's expression. May grabbed onto his arm, and watched over his shoulder, trying to shield as much of herself with billy as she could.

A single ray of sunlight peered out of the massive hole, which was now rotating along with the entire cloud.

And something massive, brilliant, and bright red hurled out of the hole, almost like a meteor, and struck straight in the middle of the cornfield. Chunks of rock, clouds of dirt, and quite a bit of popcorn flew up from the impact, almost like a geyser of some sorts.

Billy, being a quite religious man, mistook Samarsket's birth for the Rapture. He immediately bent down to his knees, and began praying fervently, asking the Lord to forgive his sins, how he was an honest man, how he was wrong to knock May up before marrying her, how he apologized for selling his crops to negroes, and so on.

There was no Lord listening to him.

Samarsket stood up in the field, and let loose a roar of such volume that it would be heard across the entire East Coast of the US. Birds flew up from trees, squawking and babbling, babies began crying, dogs barked, and every pane of glass in a three mile radius, including the ones in Billy's house, shattered into a thousand pieces.

May, stunned by the sight of Samarsket, fainted, falling backwards through the doorway. Billy would not go down quite as easily.

Samarkset began walking towards the hut, passively flapping his wings and readying his whip. There was something decidedly evil in his eyes.

Now, if we take a look at the world from inside Samarsket's head, everything looks wildly different. Everything is much higher contrast than a human's eyes would see. Reds are redder, blues are bluer, and colors humans have no names for are present everywhere. His eyes are capable of receiving a larger spectrum of colors, delving slightly into ultraviolet. We can see Samarsket's whip, ready for use, his other arm outstretched. His head is also a weapon in itself, as he can breathe large cones of flame. His tail has a large spiked ball at the end which can be used as a mace, and his wings make excellent shields. He is designed for combat.

Back in Billy's point of view. He runs into his house, and reemerges with a large shotgun who he has lovingly named Bertha. May used to joke that he loved that shotgun more than he loved her. That was when they were both still alive.

I'm spoiling it, aren't I?

Too bad.

Samarsket stopped suddenly, and stared at the man. He was easily three times as tall as Billy, and both much thicker, and far more intimidating.
Suddenly, an image popped into Billy's mind:

The creature is trying to communicate with me! was billy's first thought.
Without lowering his gun, which was quaking quite fervently, Billy pointed towards the city of Lost Haven, which was a few miles due east. Billy knew the location well, it was where he sold his crops.

Samarsket nodded thanks and began walking in the direction, trampling and burning the crops along the way.

May woke up a few hours later, and she told billy all about a crazy dream she had with a huge Demon. Billy let her believe it was a dream, and he almost wanted to believe it himself.

Almost.