Rodrigo sat alone at a bench. It had been some time since Rodrigo was home, not that he could ever return. Having arrived quite recently, Rodrigo was still getting accustomed to living in Paris. It felt as if he went on a normal trip as a vacation, the experience would have been different. Still, he was where he was, doing what he was doing. Rodrigo didn't like it.

Ever since the incident in Houston, with the rampaging monster, Rodrigo had felt like chunks of his day were missing. Sometimes, it would be chunks of a week. He could vaguely recall doing things, and he could feel and see himself as though he had lived through the 'lost time'. Still, Rodrigo could not place all the missing memories. Though it didn't seem like much, it was enough to bother Rodrigo, as if something were terribly wrong.

At the park bench, Rodrigo was feeding birds as they landed. The birds were definitely a little different from the ones back in San Antonio. Even though he could tell pigeons were pigeons, they were different from the pigeons from home. If nothing else, they were definitely much slimmer.

For whatever reason, Rodrigo had an AR-15 slung on his back. It was ages since he could recall firing it. He had no ammunition either, but for whatever reason, had a thirty-round magazine. It was empty; of course. One thing that Rodrigo kept noticing was that others around him didn't feel comfortable. Rodrigo often received dirty or confused looks from strangers. Perhaps it was his rifle, or the way he dressed. The city was full of immigrants thanks to all that had happened in the city's history, and so Rodrigo couldn't place a single reason.

Then suddenly, Rodrigo felt his heart beating. He quickly reached his hand to his chest, curious as to what was happening. Another thud shook his body. With his hand, Rodrigo felt that it was not simply his left ventricle pumping blood. It was as though his entire heart were shaking, in rapid intervals. Rodrigo felt himself fall to the ground.

Then, everything was okay. Rodrigo got up on one knee and walked, turning his attention to a peculiarly hooded man, Pathos. Rodrigo, undoubtedly had no idea who this man was. From the looks of things, however, Rodrigo seemed interested. He soon reached his right hand to his back, unslinging his rifle. He pulled the charging handle, locking the bolt back to the rear, then rode the charging handle back. With his free hand, Rodrigo reached into his pocket and loaded a magazine into the magazine well. The bolt shot forward, and the first round was loaded into the AR. Rodrigo did not aim; simply put the stock in the pocket of his shoulder, held up the rifle, put his cheek to the stock, switched from safe to fire, and pulled the trigger.

The first round hit the ground, the brass falling with a metallic clink. Although the city was no stranger to random acts of violence, the residents in the area were already in a frenzy, fleeing the area for their lives.

In the direction Rodrigo shot from, he was shot back. It was a split second that the possessed had to react. The black prism seemed to motion him slightly away, but not quickly enough. An arrow had grazed Rodrigo on his left elbow as he sidestepped away from the shot. He put his cheek to the stock well once again, looking through his iron sights to try and locate his target.

An internal struggle had occurred within Rodrigo. He was unsure why he was fighting this man, and he was unsure what he had just fired, as his magazine was empty before. Though Rodrigo could not notice, he had fired a shot of black prism. For whatever reason, however, he could not see it as such. Perhaps it was a way for his brain to cope; perhaps it was the work of the black prism itself. In a frenzy, Rodrigo pulled the trigger again, only to have it click as if the rifle had never been loaded in the first place. Rodrigo pulled the charging handle and looked inside the dust cover to see that his rifle was in fact empty.

That was when it happened again. His heart shuddered, but Rodrigo didn't take notice. He curled slightly over before naturally leaning back into a more relaxed position. He pulled the charging handle again. Through the dust cover, a glowing black energy was seen. Rodrigo attempted to line up his sights with his moving target.

Quickly, he pulled the trigger, as a shot of black energy came forth in Mason's general direction.

For whatever reason, Rodrigo did not bother to give chase. The max effective range of his rifle was somewhere over 500 meters, and so he wouldn't need to take the fight up close so long as he could still get a visual on his target. Rodrigo was unaware why he was even firing. Was he the target? Was he the one targeting? It was confusing, and yet his body moved all on its own, as if trying to accomplish something.

Rodrigo lined up his sights again. With his eye-sight, it should be easy enough to hit something that was 400 meters away. He scanned the area for his target. Before he could aim and fire, however, his arm moved away from where he believed his target was, to another target. This was some innocent female in her twenties or something. She wore basic streetwear. Rodrigo did not intend to shoot at her, and yet he did.

"Wait, run away!" he managed to squeeze out, before squeezing the trigger. The woman screamed before hitting the ground. Straight through her chest, a bullet hole. Her eyes were wide and she was in a panic. Rodrigo seemed to have conciously pulled the rifle away, the shot hitting just off the woman's heartbox. In other words, she was alive. Strangely enough, while there was an exit wound, the cavitation seemed minimal- or at least less than the ammunition an AR-15 would produce.

The noises in Rodrigo's head began as a light murmur. They were little more than indistinguishable gibberish. Meanwhile, Rodrigo ran to the lady, dropping his rifle, and putting his hand over the fresh bullet wound. The woman looked on him with both confusion and anger. Perhaps it was anger that she was being touched by her assailant; perhaps it was against her religion to be touched by a man. Nevertheless, Rodrigo was there, not only attempting to stop the bleeding with his hand, but to also stop the air from escaping from her lungs.

The man had worked in an ER before, but had never had to deal with chest injuries before; The paramedics had already done it for him by the time they reached his workplace. Treating the woman was something a little foreign to him. Rodrigo reached into his pocket with his free hand to take out his phone, dialing 911. When someone answered his call, however, something else happened.

Within Rodrigo's head, the voices began getting louder. They were screaming in fact and what was once indiscernible and seemingly chaotic became crisp and somewhat rhythmic. "Murder...murder...murder...MURDER...MURDER..."

Rodrigo gripped the phone in his hands, and bashed the woman in the face with it, her head hitting the concrete with a loud thud as both blood and brain matter spilled over the ground. Quick and animal like, Rodrigo turned to face Pathos's direction once more. He made a face and an audible but low noise that could only be described as a snarl.

As the arrows came flying, the mind of whatever had taken over what was once Rodrigo did not cease. It did not think, and the only words that were on its frontal lobe were the same echoed over and over. It was a droned, monotone "MURDER" which screamed, but in a depressing way, but seemed itself devoid of suffering.

The creature blinked at Pathos, showing its blank expression, before standing upright. It held its hands out as two black balls formed before them. Suddenly, the entire area around Rodrigo's body turned completely black. It was not a failure in electrical wiring- the lights were fine elsewhere in the city and some lights around the border even seemed to be half operating and not. Simply, the area around Rodrigo was in complete absence of light, that not even Rodrigo himself could see.

The only noise that could be heard was the low, predatory snarl. Still, the droning continued. "Murder... murder... murder..." it thought.