He only ever liked going by the name "Mikkish." At age 20, many thought he was too old for it, but he wouldn't listen to them. Or he would just tell then to fuck off. His real name was Joseph, but we will just call him "Mikkish" for the sake of simplicity.

"Far as im taking this thing" said the trucker to the hitch hiker he had picked up, who was drifting off in the seat next to him "Hey!" The trucker reached over and shook Mikkish to wake up "This gas stations the last closest place on my route to where you're going. You might wanna get out."

Mikkish walked out of the truck and was met with thick fog as he now stood in front of a run down gas station.

"Must be a New England thing." He said, not bothering to walk into the gas station, but walking past it to the right and into the woods. He knew exactly where he was going...sort of. This was just another cult he was going to take out, believed to be in a cave somewhere in this general area.

No, but this was different. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come alone. Mikkish felt challenged by something, and he could never turn away from a challenge.

So, Mikkish stormed through the woods, walking further and further from that gas station on the side of the road in middle of nowhere Massachusetts. As he walked, the fog grew thicker, the trees taller, the world seemed to be changing all around him as he walked, but he didn't think once to turn back, didn't even consider it an option.

Suddenly, Mikkish came to a clearing, and as he did, like a light switch, day turned to night, and the fog vanished. A full moon now hung above, lighting the ground below, but there was another source of light, coming from behind Mikkish.

He immediately turned to see the source of light was...a massive building. It was a mansion, in the middle of the woods, no roads leading to it, no roads even near it.

A metal gate with a few stone post encircled it, and within the gate, in front of the mansion was a working fountain, with a tiny angel statue at the top.

And the strangest part was that it wasn't there a second ago. Mikkish had just walked from that direction.

It didn't disturb or negatively effect him in any way, however, as this had become the norm for him and he friends back west. And to top it all off, maybe this mage cult he was looking for was inside the mansion.

Immediately, he walked through the open gates, and up to the door, grabbing for the handle and finding it was

Unlocked.

a man clad in a black trenchcoat entered the mansion wearing a fedora and smoking a cigarette as he walked up a long flight of stairs such was the life he would soon be leaving.

The sirens were ear piercing now, and only growing louder, but he had what he needed. He wrapped it carefully in the plastic his ally had provided, and less-carefully stuffed it into the breast pocket of his jacket, making sure to button it closed. The sudden transition to the airlock, control room, and then parking lot below may have left anyone else disorientated, but he was just tired. He bent over, hands on his knees, as he caught his breath. The break in, the same route he took to exit, had left him with energy in reserve to keep moving. The break out in the same way had seemed to rob him of those reserves.

Still, he didn't exactly have time to rest, the sirens only a block or so away. He pushed on his knees, straightening himself, and then took off running. The moment he did, he caught sight of the first of what he assumed would be a number of vans entering the parking lot. He changed his route slightly so that he could earn another second or so before the van or it's occupants could bring their weapons to bear.

Just as the van pulled up to him, it's doors sliding open to reveal the squad of heavily armed soldiers, did he teleport again. Not far, just past the concrete and grass barrier that marked the edge of the parking lot, finding himself a few steps across the road. He continued running, stumbling a bit as his body protested against the sudden and excessive abuse. He didn't dare look back, giving himself three seconds to compose himself before he felt that they'd train their weapons on him again.

He didn't wait the full three seconds, finding himself sprinting on the sidewalk that had just been in front of him, headlong into the forest that marked the edge of city limits. Not that it meant much, those soldiers would follow him halfway across the globe if they had the ability too. He was more interested in using the cover that the forest offered to block their line of sight, and force them to disembark the vans, giving him the speed advantage.

He almost didn't notice the transition, stumbling into the clearing after catching his foot on a fallen tree branch. He made it a few more steps before collapsing entirely. Heaving for breath, he clawed the fabric around his mouth down to below his chin, and waited there, catching his breath, listening to the sirens.

Only then did he notice. There, weren't any sirens. He could still hear them blaring away in his mind but now that he listened it was only the echo of their memory. He stood, pulling the mask back up over his nose, and looked around. It was hard to see, when had it gotten so dark? He looked up. Stars? When had the stars come out? He'd attacked the facility in broad daylight, had he been running that long?Everything clicked, a theory taking place. He shifted position a few yards to his left and back, twirling on the spot, hand reaching behind him, under the jacket.

No one.

He twirled around a few times, hand on his weapon. Absolutely no one seemed to be around him. When he couldn't get the pieces to fit, he assumed he'd somehow been suspended in time for what looked like a few hours at the least. It would explain everything, he wouldn't notice the change of one moment to the next, while the world lived on without him. The soldiers giving up the search, or at least shutting off the sirens after his capture, the sun falling below the horizon as he sat unable to register the passing of time. But if he'd truly been captured like that. Where were his capturers? Where were the soldiers ready to haul him off to jail, surely the one who'd done this to him would be working for them. He peered into the treeline, maybe they had an ambush ready for him, but to what extent?

Then he noticed it, a building, looming in the distance, it's light barely visible behind the dense forest between him and it. He watched it for a moment, took one last look around, then walked for it, straightening his shirt and picking the grass and twigs from his clothes so that he'd be more presentable when he got there.

This was unlike any other hunt for cultists Mikkish had ever been on. Most hid in caves, or old, abandon, dilapidated, and sometimes irradiated towns. A few times, Mikkish had to search the roach infested sewers of coastal cities to find the damn worshipers of Dead Gods.

But now here he stood, in front of a mansion, and not even one that seemed abandon. There were lights coming from the inside, and a working fountain. It clearly had running water and electricity, despite that it was far from any roads and likely away from the grid.

Mikkish pressed shoved his dirty hands to the double door entrance and pushed open, expecting a creak, but it opened as if if had just been constructed. The light from the ornate lamps inside illuminated him and the ground around him as the doors were pushed to the sides, revealing...a butler, just standing there at the entrance, and maids in the background, dusting. Everything was so clean, and undamaged.

Mikkish cleared his throat to speak to the butler who stood in the doorway, staring right at him, as if they were expecting guests including Mikkish. The butler, however, beat Mikkish to the punch.

"Welcome, sir. We have been expecting you, Mr Callahan, as well as Mr Sterling, who should be arriving any moment."

Mikkish stood paused for a moment. Okay, so the cultists now knew his name. Not surprising, really, considering what he did to most of them could be judged as...excessive.

He had never heard of Sterling, though. Was he some Maniacles agent?

Mikkish looked around the room, though, and was honestly extremely confused. If this was a cult meeting, they were certainly prepared for guests.

"Looks like your maids will have to do some overtime." Mikkish said, raising his fists; his weapon of choice paired with his magic "Unless you need a new coat of red paint, asshole."

Blood was indeed about to spill. Cultists had fooled Mikkish before, but not again. Even if Mikkish was being a little unreasonable, and rushing in to fight a cult that wasn't actually there.

He approached the mansion with an air of confidence, as he thought out his choices. It'd be smart to enter through the back, or into one of the rooms with the lights off, if he could locate such a room. Either way, he'd have to teleport to do it, and he'd only barely recovered from his last spree of using his power, so he'd prefer not to use it. That in mind, there was only one option he could think of, the dramatic approach.

It'd take a few minutes to prepare.

The doors swung open with a crash, Blink standing in the doorway, looking as confident as he could muster.

Dramatic. He'd call that a success. He surveyed the scene in front of him. A butler, maids... Ah, someone was out of place.

"You." He announced, giving Mikkish a look that was between a stare and a glare. "What do you want?" As he awaited a response, his hands fell back to his sides, and he stepped fully into the room, not bothering to close the doors behind him. If anyone were very perceptive, they might notice that his pinky finger was bent up to his palm.

Mikkish laughed.

"What do I want?" Mikkish retorted, sarcastically, before, in a blink of a moment, before anyone knew what was going on, Mikkish had the butler in a head hold, ready to snap his neck any moment.

"I'm Mikkish. I am the guy here to take out your gay cult." Mikkish looked over the butler, who remained calm, almost as if he wasn't being attacked or likely about to be killed.

"Damnit...." Mikkish sighed, noting that this butler must have been brain washed by whatever cult was here "What did you do to him? What did you do to all these people?!" He yelled at Blink.

Failure. Blink let out a sigh, that, or Mikkish was really good at improvising, that bit about the cultists was odd, though. Then again, maybe time had been frozen again. Shit, this was a bad idea. Either could be true, he had to guess.

Take the chance, get him to lower his guard, watch, try to figure out his goals? Don't take the chance? Attack? No. If he is the person who trapped me in time before, what i know is i don't know any limitations on his power, it's too big a risk, i'd provoke him and more-than-likely be left vulnerable as he trapped me again. Flee? I'd look weak, and again, there's nothing to suggest he couldn't freeze me again. Alright. Back to taking the chance...

"Alright, calm down." He said, holding his hands up briefly in a gesture to convey he meant no harm, "I was testing you, and you passed. You don't look like you know anything more than I do. Let the man go, his life means as much to me as i assume it means to you, anyway."

"What?" Mikkish said, in a hushed voice, easing his grip on the butler, but gripping him nevertheless.

Testing him? What did that mean?

"Wait." This was all so different from how things normally went. Maybe this was all a trick the cultists were using to cover themselves up or protect themselves. Mikkish had been trick before, and it only led to the same results of cultist blood spraying all over the walls and ceiling.

"Where is the ritual? Tell me or I kill all your acolytes here. Or are you...Sterling?"

Blink was glad he had the scarf covering all but his eyes, but even that may not have been enough to hide his surprise. He knew his name, but how?

"Look. I don't know what you're talking about, and i've got as much connection to these 'acolytes' you speak of, as you have to me. Let the man go, if only for a bit. I don't want a kill order being placed on my head because i was simply in the same area as you when you kill him."

He huffed, and to drive his point home, he started walking away. Not that he wasn't paying attention to Mikkish, but he was trying to seem so. So that he could force the man into a metaphorical corner, so that he'd break the ruse, if he had one.

Without much of a second thought, Mikkish angrily slammed the butler's head into a wall which magic was surging through his body, giving him enough strength that the butler's head exploded and blood painted the wall around where his head was smashed.

"What kind of game is this?" Mikkish yelled, magic still surging throughout him, as he dashed so quick he was in front of Blink in a second.

"I hope you don't think this crap will work. You damn cultists always-"

But Mikkish stopped talking immediately, as he saw a door open, and another butler, who looked exactly like the one he killed, walked out, and maids began to carry the corpse of the dead butler away.

"What the fuck..." Mikkish said, distracted by what he was seeing.

The butler's head was made a paste, and Blink's next few movements were practiced. First, he let go of the knife he was holding, hidden in his sleeve by the pinky. Second, while the knife remained in contact with the skin of his arm, he teleported it to his hand, his fingers wrapping around it. Third, he simultaneously leapt back and struck out with the blade. It wouldn't hit on it's own, he was aiming more to stop Mikkish from advancing further than to do harm. Following that up, he twirled on one foot, bringing his other up.

And then he was gone. Of course, he wasn't actually gone. He'd just, repositioned himself, behind and to the left of Mikkish, to be exact. He hoped the sudden teleportating to out of Mikkish's field of view would disorientate his attacker long enough that he'd be able to land his attack. Finishing the 180 spin, he struck out with his raised leg, aiming for the back of one of Mikkish's knees, hoping the sudden blow there would at least stagger him. Though, given what he'd fought and read of before, he wouldn't be surprised if the man's strength was enough to shrug off the blow.

But resist the attack Mikkish did not. The physical buff magic was only a brief effect, rather than a constant one, so each ultra powerful strike or extremely quick dodge was a different cast of its own. When struck behind the knees, Mikkish fell over.

But he did not merely accept defeat. Instead, the air in front of Blink briefly ignited, and if it were not hot or close enough to burn it would be sudden and flashy enough to surprise.

Then, Mikkish rolled backwards, then speed dashed a few feet away yet again, only so Mikkish could speed dash into Blink once more, but this time unleashing a flurry of lighting quick punches and a few kicks and knee strikes.

Surprised would certainly be his state, reeling away from the sudden flame.

Speed, strength, Pyrokinetic? Maybe a time-warper on top of that? Shit.

Still, he did notice that his opponent only exhibited such powers for a certain duration, due to the fact that his attack to the man's knee had worked. He recovered in time to see his opponent approaching. A teleporter was he, but he had to consciously decide to teleport, which took time, if only a fraction of a second. He staggered where he'd arrived, having taken a couple hits before his power took hold. He was in a hallway, out of sight. He wasted no time in hopping his grip of the knife to the point where it was only gripped between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer finger.

Wound, or frighten? He thought to himself as his arm pulled to himself, and then began to flick out. He decided as his arm reached it's extent, the blade disappearing from his grasp.

The blade would whisk just in front of Mikkish's face, all but a blur as it spun past him, embedding itself in the wall by the pointed end of the handle. It didn't stick, falling to the ground a moment later. A warning shot.

Despite Mikkish' reactions to such things typically being angry or apathetic, he was unnerved by things and sometimes even scared. The problem was, this never caused him to freeze up or run away. This only ever made him fight more aggressively.

Mikkish dashed to grab the knife, to hopefully cut off the teleporter from one of his weapons, then looked around. Mikkish then began searching the hallways for Blink, keeping alert for his next attack, and holding the knife ready for combat.

His power had a unique quirk, he'd found. After he committed to a teleport, he gained intimate knowledge of everything, down to the dust in the air, within his range. He assumed he was supposed to use this to fine-tune the position of his arrival, so that he only displaced the matter he intended to displace. The catch was, the second he'd arrived wherever he'd chosen, he'd immediately and entirely forget that knowledge, along with the thoughts that accompanied it while he had it, left in the dark once more.

He'd broken that limitation of his, somewhat. This is why when he decided to teleport to the location of his knife, and then suddenly found himself in an empty room, he knew that something had gone wrong. Not quite what, or that his knife had been taken, but he knew that he'd decided that he'd be at more of an advantage if he was in this room, instead of where he'd sent his knife, even if he'd forgotten that he'd made that decision.

Alright, me. He looked around the room, nothing popped out to him. What's here? Or what's there, perhaps? He could still pose a threat in that location. I suppose he's already shown a knack for pulling seemingly random powers out of his ass, there's nothing saying he won't have something that could catch me before i teleport out again, or, can i?

He was suddenly aware of his breathing, it was heavy, laborious. He was winded when he'd arrived, and only had a few minutes rest before tapping into his power once again. And it wasn't just a little. He'd been using it to the extent that he'd been before, not quite a mad, reckless retreat, but he was in the midst of a fight, and it was his weapon. He'd been using it too regularly, he wasn't properly pacing himself. Is that why? Is this place safe, a place i can rest?

He didn't really have a choice, as he bent over, hands on his knees again, catching his breath and listening intently to the sounds around him.

Marlene entered the mansion carrying a black leather suitcase wearing a black shawl and looking quite beautiful.

this place seems so familiar but then again how....

She continued to look about her location before cautiously heading up a flight of wooden stairs rotting away from years of water damage, water was dripping from the ceiling and the air was seemingly foul with a bit of rotting flesh.

Mikkish walked cautiously through a hall and a couple connected rooms. The son of a bitch he was fighting could teleport next to him at any time and attack him with some kind of magic or a different weapon. Mikkish would never admit, even in his head, that he was afraid of anything, not to mention he had been stabbed, shot, set fire too, and just been through tons of general bullshit. Still, it wasn't like he had come to enjoy having bullets or sharp metal stuck in him, and if this guy was a blood mage who was just toying with him...well Mikkish had been in that situation more times than he liked to remember, and he enjoyed a good fight usually.

The main problem Mikkish had with this situation was that he was typically the one in all combat situations who rushed in, throwing caution to the wind, and won the fight through sheer aggression without giving his enemies a chance to formulate a backup strategy. It even came with an element of surprise, especially when the enemy was well equipped and cocky. But here, the other guy was the one with the element of surprise on his side, Mikkish thought.

But the next big surprise came not from Blink, but a butler. The same one Mikkish had murdered minutes ago, or at least he looked the part.

"Excuse me, sir. I hate to interrupt your activities, but I wanted to ensure you had the key to your room" the butler stood with his arm out stretched, holding out a key, offering it.

"A key?"

To Mikkish, the butler seemed ignorant of what was going on around him. He he was, offering a key to a man gripping a knife who had killed his twin momentz ago.

A second later, the same such hing happened to Blink.

"My apologies, sir. I don't mean to interrupt you, but would you like the keys to your room?" Said a butler, extending a key to Blink.

The instant the door to his room opened, he dropped to his knees, sliding the dagger out of it's sheath. Only then did he notice it was just the butler. Or, it looked like the butler. Did his enemy have the ability to shape shift as well? Fuck! Why couldn't he have a simple, easy-to-identify set of powers?

Slowly, Blink approached the butler, and the second he felt the chill of metal on his finger, he teleported, the key with him. He didn't go far, just to the opposite end of the room again. "Room, you say?" He asked, looking it over.

"I have a room?" He revised his question after a moment passed.

Mikkish walked cautiously through a hall and a couple connected rooms. The son of a bitch he was fighting could teleport next to him at any time and attack him with some kind of magic or a different weapon. Mikkish would never admit, even in his head, that he was afraid of anything, not to mention he had been stabbed, shot, set fire too, and just been through tons of general bullshit. Still, it wasn't like he had come to enjoy having bullets or sharp metal stuck in him, and if this guy was a blood mage who was just toying with him...well Mikkish had been in that situation more times than he liked to remember, and he enjoyed a good fight usually.

The main problem Mikkish had with this situation was that he was typically the one in all combat situations who rushed in, throwing caution to the wind, and won the fight through sheer aggression without giving his enemies a chance to formulate a backup strategy. It even came with an element of surprise, especially when the enemy was well equipped and cocky. But here, the other guy was the one with the element of surprise on his side, Mikkish thought.

But the next big surprise came not from Blink, but a butler. The same one Mikkish had murdered minutes ago, or at least he looked the part.

"Excuse me, sir. I hate to interrupt your activities, but I wanted to ensure you had the key to your room" the butler stood with his arm out stretched, holding out a key, offering it.

"A key?"

To Mikkish, the butler seemed ignorant of what was going on around him. He he was, offering a key to a man gripping a knife who had killed his twin momentz ago.

A second later, the same such hing happened to Blink.

"My apologies, sir. I don't mean to interrupt you, but would you like the keys to your room?" Said a butler, extending a key to Blink.

Marlene looked at the two beings and smiled.

"hallo....my name is Marlene Elisabeth Charlotte Van Stel of Amsterdam,Holland." She said with a rather modest sense of pride.

Suspiciously, Mikkish slowly approached the butler, then slowly took the key from his hand.

"Oh, its not radioactive, I assure you." The butler joked with a smile "I will leave you to your business." The butler said, before walking off into the hallway.

Mikkish was so confused by the butler, he didn't notice the girl Marlene until she spoke.

He looked her up and down, before determining that she must be another "guest."

"So...Holland, huh? How do you like the States?" He asked her, obviously on edge, as something was going on, he didn't know what, and not to mention the teleporter could strike again at any moment.

"And by the way, what brings you to this mansion?"

Meanwhile, in the hallway where Blink was, the butler gave a similar explanation.

"All our guests get rooms, Mr Sterling. I am sure you will find yours quite accommodating." The butler said gleefully.