Prologue: Gene Disappears
Click, clack, click.
The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the empty halls.
Click, clack, click.
From the total darkness of night, a silent, shapeless shadow emerged. It glided swiftly down the desolate corridor, down the empty halls where corpses lay, maggot ridden and flesh decaying. As it glided, it gazed upon a sea of corpses, silent and still staring blankly at the figureless being as they had in life. The shadow, perhaps blind or apathetic, treaded past the empty shells with little more than glance, and cautiously approached the entrance which had once been guarded.
The colossal metal door hissed open with a sound reminiscent of a Snake. Only several footsteps in yet another body was seen, but different from that of the others. The shadow hovered around this intriguing flesh, bending down and softly caressing its cheek. Unlike the others, this one was untouched; unlike the others, this one was female, young at that; it let its deformed hand slide down her body; perhaps only thirteen or fourteen years. Around the fragile remains lay shattered glass, and burnt wreckage of all shapes and sizes; and through her heart, rest a glistening fragment of steel.
A knife. Or at least part of it. He could not tell clearly. The shadow inquired no further into the matter, and allowed its eyes to wander the barren room, until it finally rested upon a gap, where a window or a glass panel once remained. Quietly summoning its strength, the shapeless form leapt through the jagged opening with swift elegance, landing perfectly on the other end, unscathed and pleased with itself.
Gliding once more with the swiftness of a vengeful spectre, the form analyzed its surrounding once more, absorbing the information and momentarily allowing itself to be overtaken by the sensory overload. Regaining its initial thoughts, it swept through the room and observed a lone body.
The carcass was hanging against a rail, as if to try to support itself long after its final moments. The body had been of a man who, not too long ago, bled blood; he was covered with deep gashes, some as long as a snake, winding all over his body. He had a most fine physique, and glimmering silver hair, and oddity for the man could not have been older than his late 40's. Resting on its head was a simple beret, along with an even odder suit and a quite plain trench coat. Carefully feeling his subject, the shadow grinned. This was its target. This was its objective.
"I have finally found you."
The shadow placed its ear on the man's chest, and listened carefully. A faint beat could be heard, only detectable by the sharpest of ears (If ears could be sharp). The man was not dead; a temporary comatose and some bullet wounds, nothing a good pair of tweezers and time could not fix. This caused the shadow to grin even more. Its face became twisted, its sharp angles and smooth surface exposed by the prevailing light, its face devoid of any true human features. Down its cheek ran a single tear of blood.
Slowly, the shadow enveloped the man, and gingerly lifted the limp body, slowly retreating back into the darkness. The polished floor revealed no reflection. No sound was heard, and no souls were to hear it. Once more, the shadow merged with the night, and disappeared, in the peninsula of the dead.
"Tis not over yet for you, no, not yet. The Snake has won his battle, but he will lose his war, his place in heaven. You must live, for there is no peace for the true warrior. The one's who fight and die pass their legacies to the living. But yours has not ended yet Gene. Not yet…"