Prologue: The Better Half of Us

                I remember this one time when it was summer. Hot as balls. Jenny and me were on the stoop with a couple of cones, trying to cool off, and here comes this fucking kid. You know the type: asshole, all the way. He shoves me over and takes a seat right between the two of us. Jenny takes one look at him, and dumped her cone right in his lap. That’s when he pushed her, so I did what I had to do. I curbed the little fuck. Figured a few months eating through a straw would teach him to talk to a lady. Jenny didn’t talk to me for a week.

                The room was dark, unnaturally so. The smell of decay hinted at the presence of a Darkling inside it. A single lamp in the middle of the room provided the only source of light, and it was weak. Bob sat, beaten, bruised and tied up against a wooden pole. Blood dripped in rivulets from multiple cuts on his face and he could feel a dull throbbing pain inside his chest. Just a few metres across him, his beautiful wife, Jenny, sat in a similar situation as him. He tried to call out to her but he was too weak to do so. Her long, jet black hair hung over her face and blood was rapidly pooling around her.

                “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...”

                An immaculately dressed man walked into the light. He was tall and dressed in a well-pressed three piece suit. His shoes looked like they were made out of authentic leather and his face was concealed underneath a swathe of bandages. A broad smile lit up his face, but his cold, blue eyes revealed his true, savage nature. He held a long iron-wrought chain in both hands and a sickly green lantern hung from his neck. It pulsated grotesquely once in a while, like a human heart beating away.

                He was known as the Warden to those who were involved in the conflict. The Warden was one of the few Darklings who survived the Light during the age of Creation. He was a twisted reaper for the Darkness, harvesting and tormenting the souls of those who dared stand up against it. There was no escape from him. Even in Death the Warden could hunt your soul down and imprison it in his lantern.

                The Warden looked at Bob and then at Jenny.

                “Wake up, Jenny! Come on now!” said the Warden in an impersonation of Bob’s voice. He tapped Jenny’s face mockingly to wake her up. When she did, she recoiled in disgust and spat at the Warden. The Warden caught her face and stared into her attractive blue eyes.

                “Just do it already! Kill us!”

                The Warden tut-tutted and raised a finger. Then, he raised his chain above his head and turned to Bob.

                “Bob and Jenny, the Fists of the Light. You must know that I do not like to kill my victims. I torture them, erode their sanity, and then capture you in my here thingamajig.”

                His voice was like the grinding of two metallic plates. He pointed at his lantern.

                “Now, who should I take?”

                He gave Jenny a look of interest and started to twirl his chain. As the chain moved, it started to glow green and Bob could see Jenny’s soul start to be sucked out of her very being.

                “Me! Take me!” screamed Bob desperately as he bolted against the tight restraints. The chains on his arm clinked loudly but held firm. The Warden shot him a sadistic smile.

                “All in good time, all in good time.”

                With one fluid movement he brought the chain down on Jenny. The force was so great that it obliterated her physical being and left her soul, a floating golden orb behind. Bob screamed in anguish and fought against the chain with all his strength. The blood began to pour more freely.

                “NO! NO! NO!”

                The Warden revelled in his pain.

                “Music to my ears,” he replied with a grin. Then, he raised the lantern on his chest and hummed himself a merry tune as the golden orb started to turn black; a sheer sign of corruption.

                “PLEASE! STOP!”

                The orb was almost completely black now. Bob was pulling so hard on the chains that his wrists were actually dislocated. The Warden shot him one last look of savage glee and the orb turned completely black.

                Bob screamed violently. Unbeknownst to him, tears were pouring freely from his eyes and he felt a pit in his stomach. All the memories of her, from the day they met to this very point started to dance in his mind. The pain he felt was so bad that in the years to come it would be called The Lover’s Anguish and would be a medical condition that caused Bob to fall into an uncontrollable rage. The Warden took a bow, as though concluding a performance. He approached Bob.

                “Listen to me, human. I will come for you, and I will take you. Make no doubt about that. You can’t run, you can’t hide, and you can look forward to a life of madness, of insanity,” the Warden took in a deep breath, “better be sure to enjoy it, Bobby.”

                “You took the better half of me...”

                The Warden grinned.

                “Feeling angry? Good... taste the Darkness.”

                Then, with that, the Warden disappeared.  The darkness in the room started to fade and the lamp started to burn brightly, just as it should. Bob looked up and saw that they were in the basement of their house. Then, his sight started to blur and he lost consciousness.

                To those who knew Bob before his ordeal, it was as though his personality had changed overnight. The kindness and warmth that radiated from him disappeared into a cold, dark anger and his dedication to the cause bordered on obsession. Where TrueSights would try to redeem souls tainted by the Darkness at times, Bob executed every single one of them mercilessly. When confronted about it, his reply would always be the same.

                “Death is a mercy, my friend, and I have plenty mercy to go around.”

2: Chapter 1: Shauna

Chapter 1: Shauna

                There was this priest that used to come around the orphanage. Father Alexander. Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking; it ain’t what you think it is. Anyway, he must have been about a thousand years old or something, real fire and brimstone type of guy. Used to tell us kids that hell wasn’t some bullshit story they made up to keep us in line. It was fucking real. A fucked-up place where hookers, deadbeats and junkies all ended up. And if we weren’t careful, that’s exactly where we were gonna go. Fuck, if only he knew better.

                For the umpteenth time that night, Shauna Reeds blew a sigh through her nose exasperatedly as she looked at the mountainous pile of dirty dishes she had to go through in order to be able to go home.

                Not like Rocco’s much of a home, thought Shauna as she averted her gaze to a small mirror just hanging on the cabinet next to the sinks. Her parents had died in a horrific car accident when she was young and she had been put into a State Home. She never liked it there. The officials never showed love or compassion and they treated the kids like machines. Some fell in line but Shauna could not stand it and acted out most of the time. At first, it was just general disobedience and disrespect but as she hit adolescence, her actions grew more brazen and when she heard that the officials were going to send her away to god knows where, she just left the place.

                Shauna brushed back her long brown hair as she looked into the mirror. She always liked her eyes. They were huge and her irises were brown in colour. Her eyes always endeared her to members of the opposite sex. Her nose was sharp, but not overly so and her lips were full for her age.

                “Shauna!”

                The gravelly voice shocked her from her stupor and she hurriedly went back to the dishes. Heavy footsteps fell behind her and she felt a huge, strong hand grab hold of her shoulder. As the man breathed out, she could smell cigarettes on his breath. It was a disgusting smell but she kept that opinion to herself. There was no point antagonizing Samuel. He was one of Rocco’s lieutenants and was famous for his brutality. The man was heavily muscled from all those years of steroid abuse and his entire face was decorated with tribal tattoos. His eyes were hard and his lips were in a permanent scowl. Part of his nose was gone.

                “Sorry, Samuel,” muttered Shauna although she did not do anything wrong. Those words came out from habit. It was always better to apologize first than to have Samuel point out the error of your ways. In one of those rare moments, Samuel shot her a confused look.

                “No no, I’m not here to punish you. Paulie needs you up front to help serve the men. I’ll take over from here,” said Samuel as he elbowed past Shauna and started on the dishes. Hurriedly, she tossed the washing gloves onto a counter and ran out.

                A jukebox was churning out jazz music for the mobsters who were present. The low rumble of conversation was pleasant enough. At one glance Shauna could tell who the associates were and who Rocco’s men were. The associates were out of place and had this nervous air about them, like they were afraid one of the mobsters were going to shoot them in the back. On the other hand, the mobsters were relaxed. They were at home. What was there to fear?

                Your life has been a waste, Richie boy. But now I’m giving you the chance to do something about it.

                Richard Lee was a nervous wreck. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were bloodshot. Solidified saliva flecked the sides of his mouth. The once fine suit he was in was now nothing more than rags and he had lost his right shoe. There was an assault rifle cradled in his arms.

                “Are... are you sure...”

                Yes, my boy! Don Tribbiani would be proud! Think about the rewards!

                Richard shivered again. As he walked closer towards the bar, he passed by an oily puddle and saw a reflection of himself. He looked like shit and that steeled his resolve. After tonight, he would earn Tribbiani’s respect. And he would finally be somebody in the mob. He slung the rifle across his back and reached for two handmade pipe bombs. Then, he hurled the pipe bombs through the windows of the bar.

                “Bomb!”

                There was a mad scramble just before the bomb exploded, blowing out the rest of the windows. One dismembered body was hurled halfway out of the bar, its face in a bloodied mess. Richard reached for his rifle and released the safety. He marched in.

                Shauna was surprised to be conscious. There was a man lying on top of her, his body battered by the blast. Blood was flowing freely from the multiple shrapnel wounds in his torso but the man was still breathing.

                “Ugh...”

                “Shauna, don’t... move...”

                Samuel’s voice was weak and as he spoke, blood dripped out from his mouth. In a surprising act of selflessness, Samuel had dashed out of the kitchen and shielded her from most of the blast. However, there was a burning pain in her chest and she found it harder to breathe by the second. She was pretty sure she had been hit.

                Some of the mobsters managed to get up. However, as they tried to orientate themselves, a man marched through the front door. He was dishevelled and his eyes shone with madness. More importantly, there was an assault rifle cradled in his arms.

                “Tribbiani!”

                He released a short burst of fire at the standing mobsters, throwing them off their feet and killing them. Samuel growled and attempted to stand up.  The madman hit him with the butt of his rifle and caused him to tumble away from Shauna. As the body rolled away, a rivulet of blood spurted up from her chest. She coughed and tasted blood in her mouth

                Shit.

                “Samuel the Tombstone, what an honour (it sounded like hon-air),” mocked the man as he raised his assault rifle and pressed it against Samuel’s cheek. The hot barrel burned but Samuel did not react. Instead, in one swift movement, he batted the rifle away and tried to leap at him but his wounds were too extensive. The massive blood loss slowed him down. His vision blurred. For a second, Samuel felt afraid. He had not felt afraid since he was young, when the drunken old crone that was his mother would chase him with a stick for that few cents he had in his pocket. Then, he thought about Shauna, about Rocco, about how they were like family to him.

                He closed his eyes as the madman recovered and raised his rifle once more. He heard the report of the gunshot. Then, there was nothing.

                Shauna wanted to scream, but it seemed that her energies had left her. She was bleeding out. As she watched Samuel’s head get blown open, something twisted itself in her gut. Although Samuel had been a rather rough man, he showed Shauna affection, and had been her guardian angel for as long as she had been with Rocco’s mob. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen Samuel beat or harm any of his own men, much less her. The knot tightened. Her sight started to darken.

                The man walked past her. Strangely enough, there was this hunched black being on his back. It had long spindly limbs and its ears were tipped. The scary thing was its face. Its eyes had been sown shut and there was no nose to be seen. Its mouth was in a perpetual grin as it whispered continuously to the man.

                What the heck?

                Somebody else walked through the door. The man stopped and raised his assault rifle. He was too slow as three steel throwing knives flew through the air and buried themselves deep into the man’s chest. His grip on the weapon loosened and he crashed to the ground, another body in the sea of corpses. The little black creature scampered past her. The new arrival fired a single shot. There was an unnaturally high scream as black goo exploded everywhere. The new arrival coughs and walked up to her. Her vision had blurred so much she could not make out his features.

                “Damn, why must there be survivors?”

                Finally, Shauna blacked out.

 

                Shauna woke up on a bed that was not hers and she started to panic. She forced herself to calm down and analyze the situation. The attack on Rocco’s bar was real, no doubt about it, as she could still feel the pain in her chest. Thankfully, it had been reduced to a dull throb. Next, she looked at the surrounding. She was in a room of some sorts, a rather homely room. The ceiling was high and made of wood and there was the slight hint of roses. She tried to move her arms and realised they had been secured down, though not too tightly. Her legs were free to move however. There was a single needle feeding into her arm. It was an IV tube.

                “Oh, you’re awake.”

                A woman had walked into the room. She had a face that could be easily forgotten and her hair was tied into braids. Her skin was chestnut in colour and she had a slender build. What caught Shauna’s attention, however, were the two blades hanging on either side of her waistband.

                “Oh, don’t mind them. I’m not going to hurt you,” said the woman as she noticed her eyes. She shot Shauna a dazzling smile and sat down next to her.

                “My name is Jacqueline, by the way, but everyone here calls me Jackie,” introduced the woman as she took a look at her wound.

                “You’re lucky you got here when you did. Another second more and my healing powers wouldn’t have worked.”

                The mention of healing powers made Shauna remember that little black creature she saw the night before. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt a mixture of fear and sadness. Jackie placed a consoling hand on hers.

                “Did you rescue me?” rasped Shauna. Suddenly, she realised she was thirsty. Jackie brought her a cup of water and she gulped it down gratefully.

                “Oh no, I healed you, that’s for sure, but for the rescuing you gotta thank Creed (Bob),” said Jackie, “by the by, he’s outside. You wanna meet him.”

                Shauna nodded her head and Jackie called out loudly from inside the room. She dragged the name.

                “CREEEEEEEEEEEED”

                The man called Creed opened the door and entered. He took a seat next to Jackie and looked at Shauna. His eyes were cold and hard and there was a familiar air about it. His face was sharp. A single scar ran across the bridge of his nose and his hair stood in shocked spikes. He was dressed plainly in a T-shirt and shorts. His entire body was covered in strange mystical looking tattoos.

                “You good?”

                The words sounded empty, like he did not care. Shauna realised that his eyes were detached. They had the thousand yards stare to it. Despite the fact that he looked strong physically, he was probably a broken man inside. From what, Shauna did not know

                “Yes,” whispered Shauna timidly. Creed nodded his head and started to stand up but Shauna called for him to wait. He sat back down heavily.

                “Last night, there was the black little creature... You killed it. What was it? Why couldn’t I see it from before?”

                Interest lit up in Creed’s eyes and Jackie whispered something to him. He nodded his head and looked at her with the same cold, hard eyes.

                “That is a Darkling.”

                “What is a Darkling?”

                Irritation flashed across Creed’s face for a second. Jackie caught it.

                “Do you want me to take over?”

                “It’s fine. Why don’t you leave me alone with her?”

                Jackie nodded at him and smiled apologetically to Shauna.

                “Sorry, Creed’s a stone, but once you know him he’s fine.”

                “Now, Jacqueline,” said Creed more forcefully. She quickly scurried out of the room.

                “Let’s start from the beginning. This will be a long story.”

                Creed took a deep breath and organized his thoughts while Shauna waited expectantly.

                “In the beginning, there was only darkness, and that was how the Darkness liked it. Then, the age of Creation came and suddenly there was Light, there was order from chaos, and there were physical beings like humans and animals. This pissed the fuck out of the Darkness and so it starts to wage a war against the Light.”

                “In the times of Adam and Eve, the first Created, they could see the Darkness. They could communicate with it. It was natural. Then, as time passed and humans become more intelligent, or so we would like to think, this sight gets suppressed. Remember all those times when you were younger and saw imaginary friends, felt monsters under your bed and in the closet? Those were fuckin’ real. Then, mommy and daddy came along and told you that they weren’t. So you stop believing and then suddenly you stop seeing. But they’re there.”

                Shauna coughed timidly and Creed nodded at her in the slightest.

                “Um... so how was I able to see it suddenly?”

                “Brink of death, when the soul is at risk of leaving the physical body, all defence mechanisms flare up, including the Sight.”

                “So... these Darklings... what do they do?”

                “They influence, they lie, they seduce, and then they make us destroy ourselves. However, this only applies to people who cannot see them. For us, it’s a free-for-all.”

                “You exterminate them?”

                “It’s impossible to exterminate all of them, but it weakens the grip the Darkness has on this world. Jackie and I, we belong to this Order. Not many who can see joins though. Some just live their lives away, ignoring the Darklings while others throw their lot in with the Darknesss. Us, we fight on the side of the Light.”

                It was an incredible story, but one Shauna was inclined to believe. Creed fell silent and stood up.

                “Once you feel better, you can remove the IV and leave. There’s a cab in front waiting to take you wherever you want to free of charge.”

                With that, he left the room, leaving Shauna all alone.

 

                The Warden strode confidently into the apartment lobby, the heels on his soles clacking raptly against the marble floor. For this special occasion he had decided to pick his favourite face, a Frenchman with superb features. Not that he knew anything about appreciating beauty though. Right in front of him, flanking the lift doors, were two men dressed entire in black. Each of them had a machine pistol hanging from a holster and they were making no effort to hide it.

                Expendables, thought the Warden as he stopped in front of them and reached for the up bottom. The goon on the right pushed him away.

                “Who do you think you are?” he growled. Goon Number 2 remained silently, choosing to chew on the gum between his jaws.

                “You worst nightmare,” grinned the Warden as his right hand whipped up and grabbed Goon Number 1 by the throat. Number 2 nearly choked on his gum as he fumbled for his gun. The Warden tut-tutted and grabbed hold of the barrel. Number 2 yelled in surprise as the barrel started to disintegrate. He let go of it and backed up. Number 1 was suffocating. His eyes were bulging and his face was turning purple. The Warden grinned wickedly at him.

                “Now, now, let me go up and meet Mr Rocco. Don’t worry, you’ll be in a lot of pain but you won’t die, yet.”

                The lift reached and the Warden stepped in with Number 1 still in his grip. The man had given up fighting and was just concentrating on each breath. Number 2 just stared at both of them without an inkling of what to do. The Warden winked at him as the lift doors closed.

               

                Rocco was hopping mad. Broken pieces of porcelain and chinaware littered the carpeted floor as he thought about how Don Tribbiani had the gall to attack him and how nobody could find Shauna in the carnage. His five lieutenants stood by silently, waiting for his anger to vent.

                “Marshall! I want hit-men on every street. Tell them to waste anybody associated to Tribbiani!”

                Just then, the lift dinged. Rocco frowned. Jonah and Mike were supposed to radio up if they sent anyone up. His train of thoughts were broken when he saw a Frenchman holding Jonah by the throat step into the room.

                “What the fuck?” roared Rocco furiously.  A vein bulged dangerously in his temple. His lieutenants pulled out their pistols and brandished it at the crazy, albeit ridiculously strong, Frenchman. The Warden shifted Jonah into their field of fire and chortled.

                “Now now, let me demonstrate something.”

                The Warden’s jaw started to open up, and it stretched to impossible extents. Rocco and his lieutenants watched on, horrified, as the Warden raised Jonah up and placed him into his maw. His throat stretched as he started to swallow the man whole. Jonah’s screams of terror were muted out.

                “Shoot him!” screamed Rocco as his lieutenants opened fire on the Warden. However, before the bullets struck him, they simply disintegrated into black powder.

                “Ahhhh,” sighed the Warden. He could feel Jonah’s soul being torn apart slowly inside his abdomen. Then, he turned his sight to the six men in front of him. The taste of a human has suddenly ignited this hunger in him. Rocco cursed as he saw that hungry look in the Warden’s eyes. Before he could reach for his gun tapered underneath his desk, the Warden lunged for him. Rocco screamed. Several more gunshots were fired, followed by screams as the lieutenants tried to run.

               

                Creed walked quickly, offering only the smallest of nods to his fellow Order comrades as he approached the Order Master’s quarters. He rapped on the wood twice sharply and allowed himself to enter.

                “Creed.”

                There was another man present. His name was Moor. The only word to describe him was gigantic. He stood at over two metres tall and had an extremely broad body. His hair was blonde and cut in a high and tight fashion. His eyes were small and his lips a thin slit across his face. His hands were like spades and he was blessed with great strength by the Light. It made sense. His family tree extended all the way down to biblical times. He was the twenty something generation of the Moor family and the Light decided to bless him with this gift. Where Creed and Jackie had to use tools to help them finish off the Darklings, Moor would pound and tear down apart with his bare hands.

                “Moor.”

                The Order Master nodded at Creed and beckoned for him to take a seat.

                “The Watchers sense a shift in the balance of power,” said the Order Master as he brushed a wrinkled hand across an equally wrinkled forehead, “somehow, the Darkness is gaining strength. The Warden is back. The Watchers feel like they are planning something big.”

                “Is it possible they have realised that the Crux is here?” asked Moor in his deep, soothing voice. Creed always believed that Moor should be an actor or a singer rather than a member of the Order.

                Creed shot Moor a confused look.

                “The what?”

                The Order Master gave Moor a look of disapproval. Moor shrank back in his seat. That got Creed’s attention. He had never seen Moor show trepidation before.

                “In the earlier days before humans, Light and Darkness fought much bitter wars against each other. And whenever they clashed, they would leave certain traces of themselves, think bleeding, behind. These traces have an affinity for each other and slowly but surely, they came together and fused into this object called the Crux.”

                “So why haven’t we used the Crux?”

                “We don’t know how it works, really. On paper, it seems easy enough but in practical terms, we have no idea what it actually does because no one has used it yet.”

                Moor nodded his massive head in agreement. Creed sighed.

                “Anyhow, I’m sending you and Moor to the Temple to retrieve the Crux. Will you be fine with that?”

                To be honest, their opinions did not really matter. When the Order Master gave you an order, you had better follow it. Creed stood up and bowed to the Master.

                “You’ll have three days before you depart. Settle your stuff,” said the Order Master. With a wave of his hand, both Creed and Moor were dismissed.

               

                Shauna was glad to see Jackie back in the room a while after Creed had left. She liked Jackie more than Creed. In an instant, both of them started to talk about themselves and Shauna felt a connection with Jackie.

                “What’s up with Creed, by the way?” asked Shauna as Jackie wiped away tears from laughing too hard at one of Shauna’s stories. Jackie waved her hand dismissively in the air.

                “Ah, don’t bother about him. He has problems just like everyone else.”

                “His problems seem more severe,” commented Shauna. Jackie tilted her head to the left.

                “I guess.”

                They sat in an awkward silence for a while. The only sound was the random beep from the machines monitoring Shauna and the clock ticking away on the wall opposite Shauna.

                “Listen, Jackie, I think I should leave now. My uncle would be worried about me.”

                “Sure! Let me help you out.”

 

                The driver designated to her was a rather friendly chap named Markus. With a K, as he had introduced himself. The car they were in was also rather comfortable and reminded Shauna of the luxury vehicle Rocco owned in the garage.

                “How much did this car cost you?”

                “A hand,” joked Markus as he pulled out his left glove to reveal a mechanical hand. Despite that, Shauna laughed.

                “The Order pays for everything. You can see right? Maybe you should pick a side. I know I did. It gives me a sense of purpose,” continued Markus good naturedly as they took a left. Shauna felt herself fight against the inertia.

                “Have you killed Darklings before?”

                “Yeah, once, with this here gun,” replied Markus as he lifted his coat to reveal  a hand cannon. It was very well-maintained, with the silver glinting the sunlight. The engraving on the gun was intricate and Shauna reached out for it.

                “Nope, please don’t touch it.”

                She retracted her hand quickly.

                “And here we are!”

                Shauna looked out and saw Rocco’s apartment block. She smiled and opened the door. Suddenly, a very bad smell hit her. It reminded her of decay, of animal dung. It was overwhelming. She could not help it but vomit all over the pavement.

                Suddenly, Markus was alert. He could smell it too. And he knew what it entailed.

                “Darkness,” he whispered to Shauna as he ushered her back into the vehicle. Then, he reached for his weapon, checked the clip, and pulled out a cell phone. Shauna gagged as she could feel the terrible smell lingering at the back of her throat. Her eyes watered.

               

                “Creed.”

                “It’s Markus. Remember the girl, Shauna, was it? Yeah, I’m at her Uncle’s and I’m smelling some seriously bad stuff here. Get Jackie over here quick?”

                Creed shot up to his feet, allow the suitcase he was packing to fall to the ground. All his shirts that were folded neatly fell into a small pile at his feet.

                “Text me the address. I’m on my way. And Markus, don’t do anything stupid. Not everything can be replaced like your hand.”

                Markus returned to the vehicle and started the engine. As the vehicle purred by the sidewalk, he kept an eye on the entrance of the apartment block. Shauna had recovered and she sat up.

                “What was that smell?” she asked disgustedly, wrinkling her nose at that.

                “Darkness. People who see will often be able to smell the Darkness. It’s a disgusting scent that has kept humans away for millennia. Now, when most of the world can’t see, it’s easier to succumb to the Darkness,” explained Markus without looking at her. His hand was still clasped around his hand cannon and he looked really nervous.

                The front door swung open and Rocco stumbled out with a dazed look on his face. To the common man he would have looked like he had one too many drinks. However, to Shauna and Markus, it was clear that his condition was caused by that single black shimmering chain connected to the back of his neck. Behind him, the Warden walked out and took in a deep breath of air.

                “Ah, I smell prey.”

                And as if by telepathy, the Warden locked eyes with Markus. Markus cursed and told Shauna to stay below the window while he exited the car with his hand cannon in full view. In an instant, Rocco was on him, fists flailing with superhuman strength. Markus was quick to dodge the first blow but found the breath knocked out of him as Rocco swung his other fist  upwards quickly. As he was lifted into the air by the blow, he could feel that at least one of his ribs were broken. Thinking quickly, he fired off his hand cannon in at the ground. The sound scared Rocco off and bought him valuable time to recover.

                The Warden watched impassively.

                “Now, please, stand back and cease. I do not want to hurt you,” pleaded Markus as he raised his weapon at Rocco. He knew the next time Rocco attacked he would be forced to kill him. The pain in his chest was intensifying. Markus bent over and coughed. That little distraction was enough for Rocco.

                Suddenly, without warning, Markus felt something loom over him.

                Damn...

                Instinctively, Markus raised his mechanically hand to block Rocco’s first blow. The Darkness-empowered blow shattered the prosthetic limb and made contact with Markus’ jaw. There was a sickening crack as the bone shattered. His mouth hung grotesquely open and started to bleed as teeth fragments pierced the insides of his mouth. Black spots danced around in his eyes and he blinked a few times while stumbling from the blow.

                Markus raised his hand cannon and prepared to fire it but he was too close to Rocco. With a growl, Rocco grabbed hold of Markus’ hand and crushed it. A scream of pain erupted from his throat as Rocco twisted and released the mangled hand. Then, he picked up the hand cannon and placed it against Markus’ head.

                “Any last words, scum of the Light?” asked Rocco in a voice that sounded like two metal sheets grinding against each other. Despite all the punishment Markus took, he managed to look up and grin a lopsided grin. He heard two gunshots and fell forward.

                This is it then, goodbye cruel world, thought Markus  as he chuckled inside his mind.

                Strange, I can still think... I’m not dead, am I?

                Markus opened his eyes and felt light flood back into them. He had never been so happy to be alive. In front of him, Rocco was down on one knee, howling curses as the Darkness attempted to heal him from the fatal bullet wounds. Creed stepped past Markus and Markus saw fire in his eyes. Once he was close enough, Creed emptied the entire magazine into Rocco and pulled out his sword.

                “This is for Lily (Jenny).”

                With one smooth slash, he separated Rocco’s head from his body. As the headless corpse fell back, black goo instead of blood began to pour from the neck wound. Creed wiped his blade on Rocco’s shirt and sheathed his blade. Then, with a worried look he went over to  Markus.

                “Goddamn, Markus. What were you thinking?” reprimanded Creed as he tried to determine the extend of his wounds, “Jackie will be coming soon. Just wait, alright?”

                A girl screamed and Creed looked up. He was afraid that it might be a passer-by. The prescence of a high-level Darkling usually meant that humans would not cross into the immediate vicinity due to some strange psychic barrier or another. However, there are cases where the occasional random passer-by strays across Order business. The consequences were severe if that happened. Thankfully, the girl was Shauna.

                “Why...”

                The words trailed off as she walked towards Rocco’s body. Now, as the Warden faded away into the air, the smell had disappeared and the black goo was replaced with blood. Very soon, people would be returning to this part of town and this was not a situation any one of them would like to be caught in. Before Shauna could reach the body, Creed pulled her back.

                “Listen to me. Your uncle is gone when the Warden reached him. Yes, I killed his physical being but his soul has long been swallowed by the Warden. You will have questions burning. I know. But you got to wait. Right now, Markus is our priority and we need to take care of him.”

                Shauna nodded her head numbly and tried not to look at Rocco’s body. Creed stood up and started to look around for signs of Jackie. Then, across the street, he caught sight of her racing towards them.

                “How’s Markus?”

                “I got no idea.”

                “I’m...good,” warbled Markus, his words distorted by his broken jaw. Jackie knelt down next to him and lifted him up into the car. Then, she told Creed to drive back to Order headquarters while she and Shauna took care of Markus.

                “Creed. I need you to drive quick. My healing hands can only do so much. If we don’t get back to HQ, Markus will be royally screwed,” urged Jackie as she placed a hand on his chest and jaw. A pale yellow light began to glow at the contact point and sparks started to dance weakly across the wounds. As Shuana watched, mesmerized, she realised that Jackie was starting to grow older by the minute. Wrinkles started to form on her hands and face and her eyes and hair started to lose colour. Still she held on for a while more then let go. The wrinkles faded and the colour returned to her features.

                “What was that?” asked Shauna as she craded Markus’ head in her lap. Markus groaned.

                “She uses her life force to heal somebody. The more she heals the shorter her life span is. She might look twenty something now but her true biological age is probably forty or fifty already,” answered Creed callously as he swerved around a bend. Jackie shot Creed an ugly look and then sighed in defeat.

                “Yes. It’s true.”

                They completed the journey in silence.

                Later that night

                “How is Markus?” asked Shauna as he met Creed outside of Markus room. It was the same room she was housed in before. Creed shrugged impassively.

                “He’s fine. He’s a tough son of a bitch though he’ll need to replace both his hands now,” said Creed. His tone was flat but Shauna could see worry in his eyes. Creed was a man who held his cards close to his chest. She waited for a moment and then asked him the question she wanted to ask since the night she could See.

                “I want to join the Order.”

                She was expecting Creed to burst out laughing, to mock her, to discourage her, but he did none of that. Instead, Creed cocked his head to one side.

                “It’s a dark dark road, even for us Order people. You’ve seen what happened today. This will happen on a frequent basis. Are you sure you can handle it?”

                “I’m sure, Creed.”

                “Get some rest. I’ll inform Jackie of your decision. I’ll be away so she’ll be the one training ya.”

                Shauna squealed with delight and quickly quietened down when Creed looked at her disapprovingly.

                “But...YAY!”