Hybrid A Criminal's Redemption

by Tetsuna

Half human, half quig. For every answer, there is another question. For every bend, there is another stretch of road. A winding journey, a demon at every turn, and a lead Traveler with a major attitude problem...Before Bobby, before Press...there was him.

1. Start

(A/N: Alright! For those of you who don't know, I share an account with someone else under the name 'Tetsuna'. Maybe I'll write up a biography and everything later, but for now, this will be MY first fan fiction, ever, so please take the time and read and leave a constructive review :D .

Summary: What if, before Bobby and Loor, Press and Osa, there was a Lead Traveler who was part-Quig? What if he is the basis for their existence, as well as for all other Travelers, that all other Travelers and every other particle are a piece of a far bigger puzzle than we first expected?

This is the story of the Hybrid, one of the major founders for the space plot. Better yet, he's a criminal with an attitude and killer style.

WARNINGS: strong language, mild to strong violence, humorous moments, and some references that might rate this a little higher for age-reading, so in case you come across something like that - in which I promise will not be there superfluously, but a major part of the plot if it is - then READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Ratings may and most likely go up in later chapters. Ye have been warned!

Many thanks from my symbiote for any reviews for her stories, whoever and wherever you are, and I hope that in time, you'll accept me as a writer as well, and I hope to be at least half of the one she and the rest of those reviewers are.

Thanks to my Beta reader/Acolyte, who makes it look like I really did take English courses with a passing grade, and whom is forever my best friend, though we are very far apart. Thanks again, love!

Remmson: Enough already! Get to the story, you sentimental freak.

Me: Tch. Talk about nerve...Anywho, here we go!)

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Journal #1 Second Earth (1-4) Start

Before you go asking, yes, there are several journals that come before this story that I'm about to relate that has to do with my background and origin. They're safely buried in a time capsule, in case anyone wants to find out about me later.

No, I'm not that sentimental to wonder who's going to pick it up and read about my biography. If you must know, I was talked into it by a...friend. Which is the reason why I'm writing ANY of this in the first place - if I had a say, then I wouldn't.

I mean, who in their right mind would believe even half the crap going on in here?

So, with this new volume of my already messed up life, I will begin by describing myself to you with this dumb-ass quill pen, and hopefully everything else that's happened so far, to hopefully a friend back home. Let's say that I'm writing to you and the guys, Josh (though mainly you). Like I said, this gives me no great pleasure at all by relating this. I mean, who reads people's journals, anyway? Besides nosy people, I mean? Don't they have other things to do with their time?

Don't I have something better to do with my time?

(And the sad truth is...not really.)

So here we go. Best to start from the top, for those of you who don't know, and for those of you who know but can't remember me:

My name is Ten Remmson. I run a mercenary group on the streets of New York City, with the current year being 1981. I look between seventeen and nineteen years old, and not until later will I reveal our true ages, so you'll just have to wait and guess. I'll give you some clues as we go.

So. My hair is jet black, and grows faster than garden weeds, for now braided in a thick ponytail that reaches to the small of my back and leaving overgrown bangs that come to stop at my eyebrows. I'm tall, at six foot three and a half, scrawny with knotted muscles and pale skin, and I have steel-hard fingernails that resemble claws.

My eyes are a very light brown, amber to gold, like sap on a tree, with a slitted pupil. They're narrow and make me look like I'm bored or glaring or just plain out of it. My teeth are white and pointed. I wear a lot of skin-tight, yet comfortable clothing - leather is, for some reason, is very appealing to me, the same going for the two gold hoops in my ear.

My interests?

Eating rare meat. Eating. Eating. Strategy, fighting, winning, singing, observing, sleeping, zoning out, reading, practicing, stealing, killing.

Math, physics, and science.

Eating.

Killing.

Practicing my killing techniques.

Eating whatever I kill.

And rock music.

My non-interests:

Radio feedback, it hurts. Losing. Getting hungry. My strange symptoms. Breaking a nail. Loosing a tooth. Eating something gross. Getting caught. Talking, listening, staying awake, singing, eating cold meat, being locked away, used against my will, da-dee-da-dee-da...

Things I absolutely hate (once again, for those that don't know): Entertaining people, losing, being outwitted, talking, listening, staying awake, breaking my nails, loosing my teeth, waking up too early, being dissed, math, science, physics, bad music, and stupid people.

By now you may have noticed several of these things popping up over and over again in different categories. (Just because I use math a lot doesn't mean I have to like it either.)

And most of the things from the non-interests list may go into the hate list. Everything in there, in fact. ESPECIALLY the last three and radio feedback.

What else?

Occupation: merc leader of the baddest in these parts. We're a pack. We love our job.

My current situation: ...I'll get to that.

The situation of when all of this started: ...Well then.

--

Never.

Never again.

Never again will I ever let my heart fall to anyone. Always, the same round, the same thing, the same outcome, every single fucking time-

Ever.

I had picked out a special place for the two of us, me and Jess. I'd spent a lot of energy 'wiping down' that building - ridding it of crack heads and other idiots, drug dealers and overly-amorous couples, for an entire day. Just for us. I wanted this to be special.

I'd scrounged around an outdoor Italian restaurant next to the rich gents and ladies, posing as a young waiter in order to steal the most expensive ring I'd ever seen off of some lady's finger while kissing her hand. (Like I said before, we love our job, and I love mine.)

I'd prepared everything, just right. Today was Judgement Day. Today, I was going to ask her the big question, which would then decide our lives. I could finally be able to sit back in luxury with her, the one person that I cared for the most. I'd neglected my teammates, my friends, over my obsession with her, put off entire raids, just for her. Got the ever-loving shit beaten out of me, for her, because she didn't want the guy who was about to rape her to die by my hands. And for good reason on that too, by the way: his death would have been too slow and painful for her to watch, too messy, too violent, and so...so...long.

He would suffer so...so...badly.

But I'd refrained.

For her.

All the arrangements in case she did say yes were made. I'd pushed out the thoughts of rejection, because I knew that she'd never say no. We were too...too close for that.

Tonight was going to be special. I'd cut from 'work' several hours early in order to rush over to the warehouse, where she was supposed to meet me, hoping to surprise her by popping up early because she knew that I didn't get off until nine o' clock that night.

I can remember so, so clearly. I'd been so excited, actually smiling with...hope. I was actually happy. It was a first, and I could get used to the feeling. Even though everyone stared at me like I was a retard with this huge grin on my face, I could've actually lived with it.

But as soon as I got ready to turn the knob on the installed door, I froze in my tracks.

Something was wrong.

I pushed my incredibly acute hearing a little harder, and could hear...damn it, I thought. Those stupid punks had come back.

One of the amorous couples, and some guys downstairs smoking and drinking, and presumably playing cards. I could smell no heavy metal objects on them besides knives, so there was no threat of actual automatic arson.

Ah, yes. Not only do I have an awesome sense of hearing, I have what many people would call 'superhuman' senses, in which I can hear a flea jumping off a dog a mile away, zoom in on graffiti saying "Here There Be Crappers" on a subway station bathroom stall, abandoned and in the dark under layers of about four different kinds of mold and piss in very miniscule pencil writing, and be able to pick out prey in a crowd of everyday people, not to mention know everyone in that crowd by smell alone. I can feel vibrations and level restriction by so much as walking or by touch, and could probably find you at night in a thirty story skyscraper during a blackout with my eyes blindfolded, using taste, smell, touch, and hearing, and not only come upon your exact location, but track you as well.

I will tell you why as soon as I find out.

And of course, the 'sixth' sense. I can tell when you're lying and when you're not, can feel when something's out of place and when everything's in order.

Many things were out of place now. I'd just cleaned that building out of such things! Who were they? And why did they somehow feel safe enough to come back, and bold enough, in fact, to be up there in the room that I'd redone myself, in that bed?!

My thoughts on this?

HELL no.

I opened the door and casually stepped in, in which everyone turned and flinched, as though in surprise. What, were they not expecting this?

"I don't care who the hell you are," I'd growled. "If you have no business with me, then get out."

I'd made sure to lock that door, too. Housebreakers. (Though I can't really talk.)

They moved slowly, and I stepped aside from the door to let them out. Yeah, they knew who I was. I don't know who gave them the okay to come here. What, do I wipe out buildings just for the fun of it?

They all practically ran once they were past me and out into the street. Rolling my eyes, I turned toward the staircase. That couple upstairs would have to be dealt with, too. I paid a lot for that bed that they were using. The groaning of the metallic springs may have been slight, but it was like the sound of grinding gears to me.

I bent my knees a little and jumped for the top in a single bound, and almost didn't make it because of the wall of scent that hit me like a sack of turnips.

I hate turnips. Or anything else that's a vegetable. You can put that on the list of things I don't like and hate up there too, while you're at it.

I managed to land softly outside the door, which was open a crack, filtering sunlight from the windows through as orange with motes swirling round in the beams and shadows throwing themselves in different shades upon the walls.

I was frozen still.

I recognize this scent.

This - this couldn't be happening.

I listened, smelled, tasted, felt, anything to reassure me that this situation was not happening, and not with little hesitation. But it was true.

This scent was hers.

And his, the man I refrained from suffering a slow and painful death, the one that I spared in that alleyway when he tried to rape her, something that I never would have done if not for her.

The scents were heavy and clogging up my nostrils, making every hair stand on end, sending thousands of sparking information to my brain and every part of my body. The sounds, everything. The air smelled and tasted of them, tangy and cloying like spices. My ears had amplified the sound of the now frantic screeching of the groaning springs in the mattress, the gradually rising moans of lust, and I hated it, hated it, hated the emotions and reflexes that were being incited within me, ones that I'd never let myself feel before -

-Shock, slowly being overcome by anger, but it was only surface-dwelling -

-A bubbling jealousy that slowly tinted my vision in an array of colors -

I swung the partially open door forward, and once again, the scene became still, as though I'd hit the pause button. Both stared over me with shocked expressions on their faces.

Hers was changing from feral pleasure, to deep aggravation that her lover had stopped and she too, now trying to see who the intruder was, to surprise, to shock, and then to flaming embarrassment and fear.

He rolled off of her and she pulled the sheet up to her chest, blushing hard, though I couldn't see what for. I'm sure she would have turned me away if I'd been someone else. She had no shame at all for this, apparently, until I walked in. Why start now.

And I simply stared at her. I hardly heard her quick and stuttering excuses. "This - this isn't what it - oh God, Remmy, you saved me - dearest -"

As I surveyed them, I felt the reflexes and emotions suddenly turn on me, violently. Gone was the disbelief and shock, along with any hope that I'd carried there.

Jealousy clouded my vision in scarlet, breeding savagely with my anger until I could only see shadows, and it was this that found me standing on the foot board of the bead with her neck enclosed within my hand, ready to snap, get cut off, or roll if I so much as twitched it.

But the emotions gradually began to fade from my view. It left me with an awful, yet satisfying, nearly-empty feeling that threatened to spread and swallow me up.

She fell back to the bed with a thump, and I didn't even bother with her would-be rapist. I jumped down and turned for the door.

"No, baby - Remmy please -"

I thought twice, and took the ring in the box that I'd procured from my pocket and bounced it hard off her forehead. She shied away like a frightened doe, but looked at it. Her lips formed a silent 'o', and she looked up to find my eyes once more. A bold move, coming from her.

It seemed that she knew this too, but nevertheless, she did.

All of my lower opponents and everyone else had all been stared into submission by my eyes. It was another trick that I was very good at, and I'd used it time and time again in order to retain my dominance over them, to show them who was in charge. It was an emotionless glare that only faded that morning, when I'd felt hope, happiness. A cold gaze that could make one feel so inferior to me.

And even to my mild surprise, it was I who turned away this time.

The little part that remained of emotions and reflex told me why. It was supposed to have been me.

I had wanted it to be me. Only me.

I did not ask why. I did not care anymore. I knew that these new emotions were too good to be true. 'Disappointed' wouldn't quite say it for another few hours or so.

I turned on my heel and left.

Snatching up the left-behind lighter from the guys around the coffee table downstairs, I set the flame to a few rotten timbers at the doorway and windows, then walked away. That was the main reason that I'd wanted the building wiped in the first place. I'd only wanted to use it for one night only - it was too old and beat up to allow to stand.

So, to ease my suffering, I went across the street to the cafe to watch it burn. I could hear the screaming from inside over the billowing smoke and crackling flames, but it seemed at a distance, for once. I was zoning out again, and found myself not really caring either way. There was an epic battle going on inside me, and the destruction and healing was fighting hard, making the empty hole within me expand and contract, gaining land and taking it away.

Someone set down a big mug of coffee in front of me, and at first I ignored him, thinking that he was just another employee.

Then that someone sat at the table across from me.

I looked up.

There sat a guy with a mess of blood-red hair, and intense blue eyes that brought up a jolt in my brain, but I ignored that too. He was...handsome, I'll admit. (I'm totally not jealous, you hear.) He was wearing his employee uniform and visor, but looked like he should be a swimsuit model. Whereas I was scrawny and knotty, he was just slender and well-filled out with a muscular frame, like he did construction work part time. His eyebrows had an aristocratic arch, which made me think that he must have come from a rich and well-bred family, but his eyes were too...sharp and calculating for that. It was that almost predatory look, the one that many people get over the years of doing my job, or a job close to it.

I think what stood out the most about him to me, like with other people staring at said fire starter, were his eyes. They were familiar. They were cold, and icy, and they stared into mine as though he were trying to read my very thoughts.

But there was something off, and it went beyond his eyes.

As I've mentioned before, my senses are almost ten to twenty times sharper than a regular person's. I literally know everyone by my senses, mainly smell.

And this was what put me on alert: where he sat, was like the air had a mix of...this planet, but other things that I never even knew existed. Where was he from, space?

(Actually...)

The guy had mimicked my pose in crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest, but stared at me intently. I was half expecting myself to turn into a butterfly and flutter away by the way he was staring, and so, after a long silence and a sip of good old coffee, I finally tired of this game and flat out laid it down.

"What the hell are you staring at? I know I look good, but...you aren't my type."

He broke into a grin, a gleaming white smile that rivaled mine but didn't reach his eyes.

"Why, Remmson...you know that I have eyes only for you. And I caught you staring."

Bastard.

I took another sip of my coffee nonchalantly, never dropping my gaze. It would not be wise to let this punk think he had the better of me.

After a few more moments of silence, I voiced my thought aloud.

"So, since you're obviously not a worker here, what do you want from me?"

"Oh?" he said with mock surprise. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've worked here all year 'round."

"Then if that's the case, you'd know that since there are only so many people working here, you don't get a break until ten; it's six. On top of that, that earring is far too expensive, and I remember that I nicked it for someone else entirely to pay off a debt. This job doesn't bring in a lot of money, and you really stick out like a sore thumb. And," I added, inhaling quietly, "I've not smelled you here before."

Understatement.

"Hmm," he chuckled quietly. "Very observative for someone like you."

I tried to act like that didn't sting, but in my current state of mind, it caught my attention anyway, and I could not suppress it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He took a sip of his coffee, making me wait. I hated it when these bozos thought they owned the fight.

I hated to lose.

He looked up again over his mug and said the very thing that would reel me in like a stupid fish.

"It means, in simplified words, that it was an incredibly smart accomplishment for a dumb, half-bred homeless boy..."

I set the mug down rather hard upon the tabletop. Snapping was inevitable.

"Have you got a problem with that, punk? You've got a lot of nerve talking to me at all - I could end up being your killer. I don't know who you are, where you came from, or what you want from me, so the question still stands. What do you want?"

"Nothing more than your cooperation," he said, staring at his perfectly manicured nails idly. I suddenly had the impression that not only was this just another stuck-up rich boy, he wasn't from here, either.

"On?" I pressed, trying my best not to bare my teeth and draw attention to myself.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he said, toying with me. "Don't you know what you are? That you are not human, but something more, something...inter-dimensional?"

What was this nut job talking about? I mean, I'd kind of figured out the part about not being human - that was easy, considering they didn't have claws, fangs, and yellow eyes. I was losing it fast.

"So...what are you getting at? That I'm an alien?" I snorted, taking yet another sip of coffee. This one was no threat, but the warnings still stood. He may have looked like a regular human with pretty eyes and drop dead gorgeous body ( I'm NOT jealous, I MEAN it), and just another employee here at the Cafe, but there was one major thing that stood out, and that was because he really didn't have a familiar scent. I had to investigate.

It was familiar, but distantly, and I didn't bother trying to figure it out. This one ventured onto my turf with a purpose, and faced up to me with almost complete control. I should at least hear what he had to say.

"Actually..." he said, locking eyes with me again.

And I guess you could say that this is the beginning to my new life.

---------

Like I said, I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's not like I trust these to anyone but myself, and it's not like anyone, especially me, would go back and look on these later to hear how some half-human, homeless, juvenile nut-case had a fantasy about saving the universe.

But then, remember who we're talking about, aye?

This new journal would be kind of a new leaf, as a hero, a savior to the people.

A Saint!

Yeah, right.

If I'm any of those, then I'd be pretty lousy. People would be employed in this city.

You know, just as a side thought, I wonder that if people write about me as much as I write about them in my previous journals. Probably not, but I know how I must seem to them.

I actually caught a look of my description on the notepad of my arresting officer after a car robbery, when my hair used to be a lot shorter and not in the braid. "Long black hair, wolf eyes, overlong clear fingernails, pointed white teeth, six foot two in height, unknown weight -" (And here's the part where, since the car lacks the gate separating the police in front from me in the back for some reason, he notices me glancing over his shoulder with great interest and a leer) "-basically, the description of a devil."

"Devils don't have wolf eyes, man," I pointed out. "Nor 'unknown weight' and that height."

The officer had turned around to glare at me, in which I was enjoying a little too much. "How the hell would you know, moron?"

"They're not morons either."

"Hah! How would you know? I'm sure that they wouldn't pull off such a stupid-ass trick with a car like that, let alone one that didn't belong to him."

I then proceeded to calmly point out that actually, devils had any other color and shape of eyes than wolf eyes, and that they were only six feet tall at most. Once again, he asked how I knew. I explained this with great patience as well - I'd met four and shared a drink or two, dealt a few drugs, and pulled off way trickier than this. And besides, I added as an afterthought, they probably could have done the car-heist and crash far better than I ever could, which...did not make them anywhere near being morons...absolute geniuses, come to think of it.

The officer had just stared at me.

"Then what the hell are you?"

"How the hell should I know? Devils don't weigh as much as I do."

"How much do you freaking weigh, then?" he demanded, losing his patience. I love being annoying to the authorities. "Between a hundred and two hundred. Not sure, but I think..." -and here he fumed- "Nope. Dunno."

"THEN HOW WOULD YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ONE WEIGHS?!" he'd practically screeched.

I merely shrugged, keeping a straight face. "Not as much as your mother, I bet."

"Why, you little punk -"

-Anyway, after this rather violent, and yet uproariously hilarious exchange - though he didn't seem to think so, poor, dull guy - I caught the word 'freak' written in capital, underlined letters. Wow. This guy not only didn't have a sense of humor - apparently, he had no imagination, either.

Yeah, golden eyes. All of this seemed normal to me at first until I took a look at the rest of the humans walking around NYC and noticed that they were virtually defenseless, but had plenty of hatred.

Outcast in a world made up of millions of look-a-likes. There is no real place for me. Shipped from one home to the next without a thought, brought up on the bad side of the streets, and all-around criminal. That's me.

I've killed people (indirectly sometimes, but it was still good to watch them scream as they died) and stolen drug money for the sake of myself and others as unfortunate as me, mostly children or my 'pack' (also referred to as 'brood'). Two million dollars is enough to buy myself a nice house and all, but I don't want luxury anymore. Luxury is just another word for a lazy life, where you become soft and fat with no survival skill, and any senses that you may have had become dulled when other people begin to do things for you.

But as always, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Like I said, not a lot of people probably know this or that I exist since I move in the shadows of the human world, so if anyone found this, it would be like finding a rice-paper scroll from the Orient in a damp haystack (not as hard as a needle, but pretty hard).

So, here it is.

This red-head, Dominick Fraser as he called himself, excused from my table after refilling my mug with the most annoying smirk that I've ever seen.

I was left alone at the table to enjoy my last good drink and decide what to do next. The cafe was nearly empty since people went to watch the pyrotechnics across the street, but I didn't care. The less of 'human' presences, the better.

About thirty minutes after what was to be my last of peaceful moments, I finished my drink and left without a tip. It wasn't like they could stop the likes of me, and besides - from what I saw of that waiter, service was pretty lousy.

I walked down the street with my hands shoved in my pockets, staring up at the sunset. The sun was blocked by those buildings, but the lights of the sky didn't change. Autumn did that, with its pale blue, orange, and pink beauty. Would this be the last time that I ever see such a sunset? It made this end of New York look wonderful, with the brown leaves rustling around in the wind.

Every day I'd asked myself this question. At every end of the day, it would come up, and in the end, I would always conclude that it was alright. No one cared if I lived or died, and I didn't live for anyone.

Thus, the simple answer was that metaphorically, I wasn't alive, so it did not matter.

The buildings became shabbier and darker as the Bronx began to become part of my world. The sun, and now the sky, was blocked out now by the darkness and shadows of the compacted neighborhood, and automatically, my dimming vision became brighter.

I was going to visit an old friend of mine, a lady and her son that lived down in this old train station. It wasn't every day that I visited humans, of all things, but these were different. You could say that they were my back-up crew that made sure I had my supplies before I broke into something. And come on; this woman was raising her son on her own, homeless, without any support but me to give her twenty-five percent of whatever I had.

Hmm. Nothing eventful about this place. It was boarded over and grimy, and just crawling with rats. Slipping between some of the spaces in the slats, I made my way further in until I came to a pile of rags, blankets, and boxes against a pillar.

"Rem, that you?" said a hoarse voice. I turned to the pile and saw that a part of it was moving.

"Jill," I said as the woman hobbled over.

She was dirty and smelled like the bottom of a trashcan, with matted long hair that looked like it had been attacked by a lawnmower, and looked so pale from no sunlight that I could have spray-painted my nickname in white and not have been able to see it (though I really shouldn't be talking). Her large, smelly, overcoat was about seven times too big, and her feet were wrapped in rags, since she had no shoes.

Taking small, slow steps toward me, I resisted the urge to cover my nose. All humans stink, but she really reeked. I know that it's not her fault, seeing as the conditions down here were terrible, but still.

"What do you need?" she croaked, smiling up at me with yellow teeth and chocolate-brown eyes.

I glanced to the left to see another jumble of rags come moving out of the pile, but much smaller, accompanied by another moving lump that seemed to be around my age, brown hair and all.

"Who's he?" I asked.

"Oh, that's a new kid that I found. He's homeless too, a prison-breaker."

"And he's helping you?"

"Yep. He loves bein' around Mikey all the time."

The kid kept his distance, uncertain. His brown hair was short and water slicked in long bristles, and when he took the blanket off of his shoulders, he wore only jeans, shoes, and a tattered white T-shirt that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks.

When his dark eyes fell on me, they brightened, and I had the feeling that he knew who I was.

"This is Jayson Niles. Jayse, this is Ten Remmson."

"Yo," I said, almost in boredom. I came here for more than to be introduced to this scrawny wimp, but fine.

Niles smiled and said the very last thing that I thought I would hear from anyone else.

"I've been waiting for you."

Unconsciously, I handed over the two-hundred dollars in cash to good ol' Jill and drawled, "Huh?"

"You'll see," said Niles, winking. He broke his gaze from me and picked up Mike.

"Can you and Mikey go back inside?" he said casually. "Ten and I have something to talk about."

"We do?" I said, still a little on the tail end of the situation.

"Of course."

Old Jill nodded, took Mikey, and went back inside the pile of rags and boxes with a parting smile. The poor lady had no idea of what she was letting happen.

When all was quiet, I finally plucked up the brainpower to ask my next question.

"Who are you, kid?"

"Please," he said, extending a hand. "Walk with me."

The guy walked over to the platform and jumped down, then gestured for me to join him. It would not be smart to be caught by a train and become a pancake, but then, if I stood here waiting much longer, the train might actually come, and I'd miss whatever was in store for me.

Plunging headfirst into an adventure is one thing, but plunging headfirst into the train tracks was almost a whole other story in itself.

Never being one to pass thrill up, I followed him down into the pit and along the tracks. I've heard (and tried) that thing called the third rail. I figured it would be best to dodge that and walk along the sides of the walls like he was doing. Often, I had wondered if you could fit between the platform ledge and the train as it passed by, but I've never tried.

I don't think I'd like to, either.

We walked quickly down the tracks, Jayson leading the way and me picking up the rear. It was now so dark that I couldn't even see my own hair, which, ironically, had to be the darkest shade of black there ever was. I suppose that even my night-vision had its limits.

It was only after we'd walked about a hundred feet, hardly a good jog down the tracks that I heard an ominous growling in the darkness.

Grrrrrrrr...

Ah. Jayson looked a little anxious now.

Grrrrrrrrrr.

My eyes scanned the shadows, and when I saw what was straight ahead of us, I pulled up by two steps and grabbed Jayson by the collar, yanking him back just in time.

A dog - and I'm talking about a real brute, about as big as a freaking grizzly bear - had leaped up and snapped its huge teeth down right where his head would have been seconds ago. I swung Jayson behind me with my left hand and flexed the fingers on my right, hearing them pop and crack with satisfaction. He couldn't have led me here on purpose - not even I would be stupid enough to do such a thing with so many dogs.

More growls, more dogs, all of them stalking, their yellow eyes trained on us. This fool had just led us both into an ambush!

There was only one thing for it.

I flexed my fingers again and held up my hand at the ready, bared my teeth, and stared the biggest one in front of us dead in the eye.

Those eyes are like mine, I thought to myself. They were the color of molten gold, bright and shining, wild and feral...untamed. Like me, it was loose, free, and didn't give a damn about what was happening around it. The perfect killing machine.

As you guys know, we have a lot of dogs in our little 'pack', along with thousands of rats and cats and birds and other manner of tough New York critters that like to hang around. We refer to them as 'the kids' when we're talking about them in a friendly way, or in possessive. My 'kids' love me to death, and would follow me everywhere if I didn't command them not to. I've had too much experience and time and patience bred into me at such a time to back down now.

Perhaps it is my strange affinity and toleration when it comes to animals that makes me the way I am.

My hair stood on end. Like them, I would take no shit from someone below me.

"MOVE."

And to my surprise, the dog blinked. It relaxed a little, as though it had lost its fierce composure, then finally sat back on its haunches with a confused expression on its face. The other dogs followed suit, and soon, the tension died.

The lead dog scooted forward on its belly with a slowly wagging tail and sad eyes, giving me its best puppy look. I dropped the intensity of my stare and voice, as well as my hand, and reached out to stroke it down in a loving way.

It nuzzled my hand and licked it, and at that moment, I knew that they were all no more than docile puppies. All of them bellied forward to do the same, and Jayson said, "It's time to move a little bit further."

"Oh, already?" was my lightly sarcastic remark. "You mean I wasn't here just to meet these dogs?"

Jayson didn't answer. He strode forward out of the mass of wiggling fur-balls and went to one of those doors on the wall. A lamp, perhaps the only one on down here, was situated on the lintel, where, bathed in its orange glow, was a star scratched into the top of the door.

"This is it," he said.

I moved to stand next to him (the dogs following behind with lolling tongues and happy eyes) and merely raised an eyebrow.

And then he opened the door.

I knew that there was something overly strange going on as soon as it swung open. I was hit by a barrage of unfamiliar smells, but like...the closest that I can describe had to be of static electricity. Like a violent, twisting super-cell storm trapped in a hallway. Use your imagination, but the feel of a thousand bugs racing across my skin and making every hair, even my eyebrows, stand on end made me feel exhilarated, itching for adventure, but also some unknown caution.

This was the entrance to a huge concrete tunnel, not exactly with a large diameter, but definitely long and going on into darkness that even I could not penetrate. The tunnel itself was stone and sonorous, so if I'd known this old tunnel was here, I'm sure I would have had a dork-blast with making my voice echo.

As it was, that wouldn't be too bad of an idea.

"Echo," I said, and was rewarded with the echoing of my voice, though amplified to so loud that the loose gravel shook.

Jayson smiled at me and motioned for me to step inside, and when he did, he closed the door behind us. Probably to keep the dogs out.

"So, are we any closer to figuring out what is going on yet?"

"You aren't," he simply stated, and I twitched an eyebrow. The need to go was making me short on patience.

And then, the strangest - maybe one of the most puzzling and terrifying (I'll admit I was more than just startled) thing in my life happened to me yet.

Jayson opened his mouth and said, "Denduron" - and the tunnel began to writhe and glow. Yes, GLOW. It was like staring down the throat of some other person when they were about to be sick or either if your vision was swimming from being high; it was, and pardon the cliche', alive.

"THE HELL?!" I shouted, and made a move to scramble back towards the door. I didn't want to be here when whatever it was coming out of there found us, but as usual, my luck had run out. There was an inevitable tug pulling me back to meet the rushing light, and the sounds, like a jumble of sweet notes from wind chimes filled my ears and blasted my eardrums.

"Come on, Remmson," Jayson laughed, beckoning that I come join him. The hell I would!

But as it turned out, I didn't have a choice. The approaching myriad of lights hit us, and when they did, I saw a whole new tunnel. This one was all white with what looked like jagged crystals all over it, and a slipstream that held me floating upon it at an incredible speed.

Something was terribly wrong, and yet so right, and so confusingly not confusing; it was as though I had just left behind the world that I knew, and not just the city, but the state, country, continent, Earth, Solar System, galaxy...

...Several universes that didn't even belong to me...

But through all this, I felt safe. Freaked out a little, but still safe. At least I wasn't going to hit the walls, because that would have really hurt to impale myself on those things, and I still had this mysterious twerp with me as well. Like a tour guide, I guess. I could call on him if anything got hairy.

I calmed down enough to ask a few questions and hoped that my body would not betray me.

"So what is this thing, Niles?" I asked him, staring at the walls. I could almost see through them, as though they were transparent and giving me the view of space and its stars.

"This is called a flume."

"Heh, somehow that's a good word for it."

"Yep. This is taking us to a place called 'Denduron'."

"Which is?"

"My home territory."

"...Which is?"

"A territory is the Earth in different dimensions. So we're not really leaving, but not really not either, if you get what I mean."

"UM."

"Hehe, I know. You'll understand one day - I still don't yet."

"SO...how long is this going to take? I feel as though I''ve just lost track of all time."

"You said it yourself. There is no time. We're passing through time and space..."

I folded my arms behind my head and chose to stop asking confusing questions with confusing answers. I may have been intelligent, but at the moment, my brain capacity was shrinking. No more information until I arrived. And besides, this was kinda fun...

"And, since you come from this...Denduron...will they have anything good going on? Like, money-wise?"

He shook his head at me. "When they said you were a criminal, I thought they were talking about you personality. I guess they were right about that, and talking about your occupation at the same time."

"Oh, yeah! Yeah! So then, is there?!"

"No, but it's something more. All this time, I thought they were talking about you metaphorically..."

"Hn?"

"That you were a criminal, a killer, and not afraid of death. A true daredevil that hated the world."

I snorted lightly and replied, "I don't know how you failed to misinterpret that. And who's 'they'?"

"The other Travelers."

"I'm not going to ask. Just be quiet until the end of the trip."

"Hn," he said, mimicking me, but I let it go. I was more focused on what I'd find at the end of this living tunnel. Perhaps a planet full of little blue martian-related aliens that could disguise themselves as humans like Niles, maybe Dinotopia, or maybe in King Arthur's days? The basement of Harvard University? Carnation milk?

Now, there's a thought, I chuckled to myself. And speaking of food...

"Niles."

"Nails."

"...Huh?"

"Call me 'Nails' now."

(I will learn why later.)

"Yeah, fine, whatever. I'm hungry. They got a um, 'Starbucks' where we're...'flumin'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you're hungry, we'll treat you when we get to a friend's house, if you can hold out that long."

...Actually, that was kind of the whole point for announcing that I was hungry.

As I have mentioned about 'superhuman' strengths pertaining to me, I guess it's best to tick all of the ones that I've figured out for myself to you:

Acute senses, mathematical accuracy, speed to outrun a ferari on a good day, jumping, being non-containable, taking dangerous risks head and fangs first. Ehm, singing, but like I said, I hate it too much to do it.

As for 'symptoms and side-affects', besides animals following me at really weird times without my consent, powers of persuasion, and once again, rushing into dangerous situations, this is when I become stressed. Like a headache or an incredibly fast metabolism with a really mean appetite, I mean. I don't know about anyone else, but the loss of my girlfriend like that, and Dominick, Lord-of-Ass Fraser (I'm still not jealous, I mean it) from the cafe, counted immensely as stress.

This is probably my fault for forgetting, but I can't help but think that Dominick had something to do with me leaving before eating anything light before looking for Jill. I'll probably never know, but for now, let's place the blame on him.

My stomach rumbled and roared, like there was some sort of satanic cat in there trying to claw its way out, up my throat and escape in a belch. (I dunno why that happens to some people, but you get it). I needed food.

Now.

I'd probably only hold out for a few more minutes or so, and I began wishing that this remarkable ride were over.

I got my wish about ten seconds later.

The flume deposited us very gently in another sort of cavern. First rule to survival: observation. I lifted my nose to the air and inhaled, tasted it, let my fingers drag along the rock walls until I was certain.

"Mmm, a mountain cavern?"

"Yes. They were right about you - you are very observative."

"Shut up and get me something to eat. I'm in no mood to talk," I snapped irritably. I clutched my hands to my stomach as it growled threateningly. This was urgent. If I didn't get food soon, then it was a very good chance that my appetite would overpower me - and God knew what would happen then. This was no time to talk or be polite about asking for someone to hurry up.

"Sure, but put these on first."

He indicated a pile of stinking animal skins. This smell was very rare in the city, after all, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that I was no longer in the world I knew and preyed upon. To be honest, I really wanted to eat them more than wear them, but patience, Rem. Patience.

"Be sure that you take nothing with you. Nothing from where we came, got it?"

"Whatever." I clamped my mouth shut hard. I had to keep it closed, I had to. I practically leaped out of my clothes (not time for a slow strip tease now) and figured my way around the leather and skins. Can you believe that they don't wear boxers here? This would be killer on me later, but for now -

"Aaargh," I moaned as another wave hit me. I had to hurry this up.

"Come on, you can do it," said Nails, cheering me onward. He had no idea what kind of danger he was in. I finished strapping up and followed him out of the cavern and into the bright sunlight, where I saw an amazing sight that made me forget about my hunger temporarily, a brief miracle.

I've never been at the very top of a mountain before, but this thing was huge, about the size of whats-its-name in Alaska that they called Dhenali or some shit.

The snow looked iced over and slick upon the jagged dark grey peaks of cliffs further down, to where I could see a valley and what looked like rolling hills and plains, covered with trees.

This place was beautiful! But what really caught my attention was that there were three suns on three sides, all of them in the position that I guessed was afternoon.

Yes, three!

It was an absolutely glorious sight that was suddenly ruined by a jolting reminder that I was running out of time.

"We need a way off this mountain, and fast."

"I've got a sled -"

"No, I mean FAST. NOW."

"Why? Are there Quigs?"

" What?" This was no time for talking gibberish! "What do you mean, 'Quigs'?"

"They're really dangerous. Did you see any yellow pillars?"

I took a quick glance behind me and gave my report. There were quite a few, actually, sticking up out of the snow like a quarry.

"Many. I'm receiving bad vibes from those, but now, you're gonna get bad vibes from me if you don't get your ass moving!"

"Hey, we've got nothing to fear," he said, the dork. "You're part quig anyway, so you should be able to protect us..."

I had no time to register what that meant because it was starting.

"AAAAAAARRRGH!" I snarled as a huge wave hit me so hard that I could swear that this was the roar coming from my stomach itself. Problem was, this was a mountain full of 'Quigs'. Echo.

Haha.

I was about to find out what a Quig was.

The ground began to shake and tremble under my feet, and those yellow, two to three foot tall stones began to rise up out of the snow. These were the spines of a monstrous grey beast that reminded me of a really, really big bear with an enormous box head, like a dire wolf. This thing had tusks for fangs, sharp as razors and glistening with long strings of drool hanging from its chin.

But their eyes. Again, they were yellow.

I think there were about five in all, all of them ridiculously huge with vicious claws that could cleave through flesh like a hot knife to butter, and, most of all, they were hungry.

Like me.

The closest one to erupt next to us was so close that Nails stumbled backward and fell pretty hard on his butt and elbow, scraping it well on the ice, but he scrambled back up towards me. Heh, like that would help.

I grabbed Nails's wrist and without thinking twice shot toward the drop off. It would be better than that slippery slope, if not safer.

In a quick move, I tossed him over my head and onto my back and leaped off the edge and into the cold void. Right off the side of the mountain.

-Now, before you go thinking I was suicidal, remember, I'm not human, per se. How do you think I managed to lift all that drug money AND that promise ring by just going in the old fashioned way? My life has been spent mostly in the air like this, so I was perfectly fine jumping eight stories.

Thankfully, this was only about thirty feet, but it was still a pretty good drop. The moment my feet touched the ground again, I began to run with a turbo-charged spring in each stride, pumping my legs and then stopping, to glide over the gently rising and dropping slope.

The beasts behind us were persistent. They dashed uphill with wild roars of bloodlust with mind-boggling speed and agility. As it was, one was actually running beside me at a good forty miles per hour. Remember that ferari? I'm sure that this thing looked like it was only taking a stroll. Though I was keeping up with it, or vise-versa, I still felt unbelievably slow.

I never feel like that, ever.

We cleared the slope and came sliding down the other side. I noticed that we were running out of snow; the ice was about to hit clay-dirt and soft loam, not to mention the tree line. At this level, I could see the fields and such in front of them, with cattle.

Mmm, cattle...

And we almost made it.

Almost.

We would have made it in and out of that territory if not for one teensy weensy little problem that just had to come up at that point: I couldn't suppress the hunger anymore.

Even as I began to stop gliding and just run flat out to pick up the pace, I knew the transformations were taking place. My nails hardening like rock, the teeth growing slightly in my mouth and muscles beginning to expand and contract with more force.

There was nothing else for it. With a sudden pulse that jarred me so hard that I fell on all fours (sending Nails toppling forward on the way), I groaned, "Wait for me at wherever you're going."

Nails protested. "But you won't know where I -"

"I'll find you. Go!"

"But-"

"GO, DAMMIT!" I snarled. Nails scattered.

Another pulse hit me, and every hair bristled. It was like that static electricity feeling that I'd had before at the flume - but it only lasted for a second.

I turned around and roared my challenge at the on-coming beasts, strands of gleaming saliva flying from my mouth. All of them stopped in a half circle, skidding their paws into the snow.

They may have been way bigger than me, big enough to probably snap me down with two bites, but I could tell by their eyes that they weren't used to having someone so small stand up to them like this.

I'd used my automatic illusion to appear larger than I really was, like a cat when it bristles. I took a stiff-legged step forward with my right arm. It's not a 'superpower' as much as it is a natural ability in all animals - even humans, if they pay attention long enough - to pull around you a shield of nothing-to-lose and confidence, intimidation to appear several times larger than you really are.

The confusion in the Quigs' eyes flickered into something like fear, and they all took a shuffle back

That was good. I tried to rise onto my legs, but it was nigh impossible, and I only got as far as dangling my arms somewhere around my knees like a hunchback before I roared another one. Bring it on, bitches! my hyper cells screamed.

A light grey Quig to my left returned the challenge. The scent was strangely familiar, like with those dogs - a female Quig with an attitude.

Well, we couldn't have that, could we? It was a showdown now, to see who ate who first. To confirm my intentions, I began to circle, looking for the best way in.

Round and round, I'm gonna eat ya; round and round, you won't win...

It was truly amazing, now that I look back on it. Of how I strut my dominance around the city back streets as though I own them - and technically do - looking to my subordinates like the most superior thing they've ever seen. I seem so in control of them and everything else, and yet, can't even control myself. One day, I would find a remedy to this. I repeatedly tell myself that I don't care where I came from, how, or why, as long as I'm still here. But that too, is a lie. I want to know quite badly. Especially every time something like this happens.

And then a piercing shriek cut through the air.

Remember, I hate feedback and any sharp sounds, but it seemed like the thing to save me.

All of the Quigs lowed deep like oxen and began to shake their heads back and forth, growling and snarling in pain. I joined them, staggering back onto my heels and covering my ears with my hands. What was that?

Vibrations were coming from behind me, at the tree line. I spun around to look, and it was none other than good ol' Nails, followed by more pale weirdos in skins with long stick weapons and - could it be - tiny, wooden whistles. Nails was blasting it for all he was worth, and every breath made my head spin.

I didn't know which way was up or down, what was right or wrong, light or shadows; all of it was whirling, tilting out of control in explosions of burning spots of light.

Something whooshed over my head and tightened around my neck firmly. I chanced a glance down and saw that it was a rope.

"Trust me, Remmson," called Nails, and began to pull me back.

Naturally, I resisted. How dare he drag me like a dog! I'm in control! my cells and hidden arrogance shouted angrily. I pulled away, but as the whistles kept blasting and the ropes kept tying and tightening until I felt my ears and eyes would bleed, I began to lose control of my arms and hands, and eventually everything altogether. It wasn't worth the fight, but my blood would not let me give up without one. The more I sank down, the more it got angrier. I stomped down on it brutally.

The Quigs, utterly lost in the confusion, no longer paid me any attention. What was left of my conscience let me relax, although very reluctantly, and be dragged back towards the tree line, where everyone grabbed onto my wrists and began to rush me as fast as possible toward what looked like a little colony of thatched huts in one of the valleys.

"Hurry," I hissed through clenched teeth to Nails, who simply nodded. The scent of the blood on his elbow, in which he hadn't been able to patch up during the predicament, was getting stronger, and if I didn't eat soon, this could get really ugly.

I believe I've mentioned eating whatever I kill.

And I mean, whatever I kill.

Oh, yeah.

We entered the tiny village, where a lot of construction/reconstruction was going on. If I'd paid it any attention, I would have noticed that they seemed to be recovering from a storm or attack of some such, but everyone was quite happy while they worked. Quite a few of them glanced up at us in surprise from their work, wondering what in the world we could possibly be doing that required leading me like a wild horse towards a corral with all these ropes.

There was a hut that was medium sized, about the size of a small house (huts are actually kind of bigger than you think) that we entered through a woven door, and the interior looked like it was made of mud and stone (sod). Pretty strong and weather tight, but it didn't have to smell like a landfill.

I brought my knees up to my chest to make them drop me, and began to tear at the rope around my neck. The more I struggled, the tighter it got, so I chewed through the line holding the knot shut to rip it off.

Nails and a few others quickly set down wooden platters of...yes. It may have looked like a pile of steaming carcasses and ripe fruits and berries, but it was food, nonetheless.

All composure forgotten a long time ago, (I've noticed that I become less sharp as a hungry nut case, with a few other problems that, I promise, I will get to explaining later) I dug in at anything that came toward my mouth. I was in a hurry to be back to normal; the hunger is terrible. The food actually wasn't all that bad, either. This pig looked like a delicacy from the rainforest back home, where it has those yummy clumps of water snake all over it and the glaze. Freshly cooked and warm, but none of the things to eat had blood. I guess that was alright - I didn't need to go into a frenzy over the mutilation of fresh kills.

I sat back, full, and politely inclined my head to the rather shaken natives. They gave small smiles of relief and talked to Nails in some weird kind of language.

I picked my slowly shrinking fangs with a splinter of bone as I watched.

"Ja notcho kehr, dahnca-ku barishia jiiv," said one of them wearing a little less clothing than Nails and me. I supposed the extras were for that mountain up there, though I didn't feel it. Thus is my tolerance for cold.

Nails answered him back, "Thank you for your offer, Wayra. I'll help out on the projects tomorrow."

Wayra left.

"Okay, what was that about? How come he can understand what you're saying, but won't reply in the same language?"

"He is."

"But you're speaking English."

"No, I'm not."

Now I was really confused. He was definitely not speaking in the same language.

"...So then, are you going to make me wait to ask you more questions, or will you tell me more?"

Nails came to sit beside me on one of the piles of skins that was heaped in the corner, like a mat. He crossed his legs Indian-style, and I saw that he'd bandaged his elbow while I ate. "Travelers, you and me, are speaking two completely different languages, but we understand each other. We hear all languages as our own. Weird, huh?"

"Don't get me started," I groaned, massaging my temples. I pulled off some of the heavier skins that served as a snow coat until I was left looking pretty much like Nails. Furry breeches that came to my ankles and bagged for a lot of room, and a top that didn't cover my midriff, but had a fur lining on the shoulders and hood. No sleeves that I could see, though.

I sniffed the clothing.

"These are deer skins, kinda?"

"Yeah, kinda. The fur comes from their rears, though. They're really funny looking compared to the ones on Second Earth, with big furry bottoms."

"Hehe, that must look strange. Hence the term, 'hind', eh?"

We both laughed quietly.

I picked at a stray thread on my outfit.

"Have they got anything else higher up on the fashion scale?"

"Well, since everyone looks at you like some kind of god or something -"

"Eh? What gave them that bright idea?" I said, surprised. I didn't want people worshipping me!

"I told them the truth, that there was a Hadouin - a Quig - in human form. They see those as highly symbolic creatures that no one messes with, and they want to be on your good side. The Milago, this tribe here, want to be on your good side because they are about to engage in a war."

"A war?"

"Yes. The neighboring tribes, Kelta, Bedoowan, Fargandwa, Jiinjan, Ramax, and the Michi are all prepared to do battle for the land that they live upon. Apparently, there are few ambitious ones that are thinking of trade for science and slavery."

"This stone age place is already thinking of science?" I asked incredulously. "Looks like it took a while."

"Yes, they're slowly evolving, but not in the correct way. They're already sending ships across the ocean to some of the coastal tribes, and already, one of those is coming over here to meet the challenge. The Novans want to at least try to defend themselves."

"This is...getting complicated."

"Indeed," Nails agreed. "But at least the Milago are going to get you better clothes."

"That's a relief. Having no boxers is really pushin' it right about now. Don't they know of anything called 'cotton'? It would definitely be better to wear than these skins."

Nails chuckled. "Like I said, trade is starting to come into effect. I wouldn't doubt that they had the finest waiting for you already."

"Mmm," I said, and toppled onto the skins. They didn't stink as bad as the clothes, but still. Rankin', man.

My eyes were heavy, and all this excitement called for sleep. I didn't want to be awake to talk to Nails anymore, or try to get my head around all that he was telling me. I accepted it as it was because what other option was there for me? This was an evolving world, and I didn't want to go back to that hellhole that I'd grown up in. This was just fine by me.

I temporarily forgot about the pack and kids that I was leaving behind.

In a few moments, I was out like a light in a dreamless, uneventful sleep.

-

Denduron (continued)

-

I awoke God knows how many hours later with my eyes practically glued shut by sleep and my face shoved into the crook of my arm, my usual sleeping position. At least my mind was clearer now, and that was good because I was ready to take on questions and answers.

Turning over on this weird little pile, I noticed that several things had been left for me: a stack of what looked like very primitive, yet effective paper, an ink jar, a funny little duck-feather quill (but it was in shades of yellow), and more piles of furs, yet all of them folded very neatly.

I looked over and saw Nails already sitting up against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He appeared to be dozing. That was fine by me for now.
But what was really getting to me at the moment was the need to explore. However, since I didn't know what I was doing, I'd have to listen to whatever Nails said.

"Yo," I said, tapping his shoulder. His head fell forward, and a loud snore that would have sucked all the dust off an antique shelf emanated.

I tried again.

"WAKE UP!" I shouted, and was pleased to see him jerk awake. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he looked at me and frowned. "I wasn't asleep."

"And neither was I," I retorted.

I sat down and began to unfold the big pile of furs. They looked like ones to sleep on, and were absolutely soft. They smelled like fresh spring flowers, which was a total contrast to the ones I was sleeping on now.

I took advantage of that situation immediately and shoved my previous skins aside to lay these out in a neat, fluffy jumble, and sit upon those. Ah, bliss.

I unfolded the smaller set and found actual cotton. These were soft material and fur, with what looked like primitive, but astonishing jewelery on top.

"What're all these?"

"Those are your new clothes," said Nails, scooting over to watch. "I've never seen such fine jewelry such as this. See these blue stones? This is glaze."

"Glaze?"

"Yes. This is another main reason why the tribes are fighting. This valley that we're sitting in now is famous for its glaze mines. Since this new type of currency turned out, trade has been trying to expand. When the other region of tribes' glaze mines ran out, they came here, the richest deposit in the world. But of course, these tribes here were not about to give it away without a price. They thought it was unfair, blah blah blah, now they're gonna fight for it and make everyone their slaves. There are Warlords looking for ultimate conquest nowadays."

"Whoa, wait. Basically, they think this is a good luck thing, making me fight for them? Over a bunch of pretty rocks?" I summarized.

Nails stroked the trace of a goatee on his chin thoughtfully. "That about says it all."

Well.

I didn't know about Nails, but there was no way that I would be getting into a war over these stones. It was pointless, and I had no reason.

But then, I did like to kill things for reasons unexplained to even myself. Perhaps this was the chance to have a bit of fun for once, and maybe keep this land to myself in the end. If people were even half the bad-asses they thought they were, maybe I could challenge them. I may not be the strongest in the previous world, but here, I could possibly rule. The scenery was wonderful, and did not deserve to be torn up by a bunch of stinky idiots like these.

I merely said "Hn" to Nails so that he knew he got through to me, and would have jumped out of these stinky skins right there and then if I hadn't detected a river nearby. I didn't like having their smell on me at all, and would rather go nude (but they might find that offensive and not like me anymore), but at least here I would be able to take a bath. Nails began to write with his own funky quill (in shades of green) upon the light brown paper while I got ready to leave.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he'd asked.

Normally I would have taken this as a statement that he'd liked me in some way, but it seemed that he might be invaluable after all, in case I got jumped by the villagers or some other hungry beastie during my clean-up time. I merely shrugged and stepped out between the leather flaps that marked the door.

Wow. I guess, like any other caveman village, this would be totally cool. The place smelled like animals, alive and dead, woodsmoke and sizzling fat. The sounds of construction were going on all around me, and I saw small scaffolds next to the huts bearing four people at a time with mallets and nails and other such building tools.

There was something that I guessed was the market, the center of the whole village, in which racks of meat, fish, fruits, vegetables, and crops hung. Hmm, a food place, expensive things, tailor's shop, everything that the village ever needed...was right here on packed down dirt.

I decided not to pay any of the people any more attention. I was still feeling rather groggy, and I needed a bath. I could hardly stand it itching and scratching on my skin, and having no boxers or socks...I was starting to hate this place already.

A stream that ran on the outside of the little village was full of fishermen setting out their 'nets', these circular, woven baskets on a piece of rope that really reminded me of a lobster trap; and women with actual baskets, scrounging for shells and edible vegetation. I noticed that everyone seemed a little afraid to go in the water, and I'll admit, it was at least twenty feet across and running fast beneath its placid surface. Stick your foot in and you'd be sucked under and away.

I highly doubted that they knew how to swim. Their fishing equipment showed me that.

I avoided them and walked further down, where the stream widened and passed beyond the tree line on the eastern side until I could hear the sound of it thundering on worn rocks by the gallons, and the villagers were nowhere in sight. Clearing the trees, I saw that it too was not very big, hardly any more than another five feet wider than the other one to get to the other side. Maybe it was a tributary or something.

But now that I was here, I had to find someplace upwind of the flow without as much strong current. When I found it, a small area blocked off by what appeared to be fallen boulders, I undressed and practically cannonballed in.

Of course, it was freezing.

Intelligence wasn't my greatest skill this morning, I realized, trying to force the frozen blood in my veins through my body by a miserably failing mental effort. What season was this, fall? It felt so nice out, but my sense of time had not yet returned. Looking up, I saw one of the suns being blocked by a mountain peak, and so took a guess that this was the runoff from the mountains. I should not be surprised to see snow floating along in it.

I sat with the water up to my shoulders in the mud, waiting to get at least warm enough to bend my arms. It took at least four to six minutes, and as soon as I felt the cold constriction in my chest ease its grip, I reached down stiffly and scooped up some sand. It wasn't a proper soap and scrubber, but it would have to do. Turning my nose to the side so that I wouldn't get a whiff of the smell left on my skin by those furs, I scrubbed until I began to look like less of a corpse.

And it hurt, too. I had pinkish patches all over my arms, but at least I could tell that my blood hadn't actually frozen.

Next up: hair.

I'd been meaning to for about a month and a half now, though usually it doesn't need it and I don't feel up to it most of the time. But hygiene always wins the fight. That stupid-ass hair tie slipped onto my wrist, and I had to un-braid the whole thing before ducking under the water.

I could hardly see a thing. Note to self: when you're going to wash your overlong hair and body at the same time, make sure it's a freaking swimming pool and that you bring clips because it can turn into a living thing under the water and not only blind you, but suffocate you. Like the alien face-hugger.

I didn't have any soap, so I used the next best thing. Just sit and scratch. Attack the hair with everything you've got!

I sat up and took a breath, strands of assaulted black hair falling over my face and trying to assassinate me by smothering me. I parted the thick curtain of it and gasped for breath, a little annoyed, and tossed it over my shoulders to rinse it out. At least this time I had the sense to bend backward to do it instead of plunging in with my head between my knees, but hey. My excuse, that I'm sure you'll find perfectly plausible, was that I was desperate.

Another note to self: burn those clothes. But in a blocked off space so that the fumes won't kill me.

Repeat the process twice, get out of that water as quickly as possible, and dry off in the sun since you don't exactly have a towel. I shook myself like a dog, squeegeed the rest of the water out of my hair, and then looked up to see Nails standing there, looking as though he'd just gotten sprayed.

And of course...he just did. Oops.

"Ehehe, sorry man," I said, grinning. He seemed unperturbed, though, and sat on a large flat boulder with my clothes in his hands. "No big deal."

I stretched in a patch of sunlight and nearly passed out as the cold fell away like the dingy old shell of a locust, then climbed up next to him and lay on my back. I didn't know what season it was here, though I guessed it to be the middle of summer, but one thing I knew for certain. There is nothing like a two and a half sun bask on a clear day.

Nails pulled out this funky spear, which really looked like a straight branch with one end sharpened, and turned away with the clothes on the side in order to poke at passing fish in the water. Vaguely, I wondered if I'd managed to accidentally catch a few in my hair and put them on the bank by accident.

I waited and waited rather happily as my body heat returned to normal, and as soon as I was dry, I decided to try on my new clothes.

HOWEVER, fate seems to keep throwing the most random of shit at me lately.

"Hey," I said aloud, tossing my thick hair over my shoulders again to keep it out of the way, "how do I..."

"The white cotton that looks like boxers/loincloth ties on the right hip," said Nails without looking up, thrusting the spear tip down and almost skewering a rather crafty fish.

"Ah," I said, mystery solved. "And the rest of it?"

"The big white shirt goes on first, and you tighten the drawstring at the waist..."

"'Kay..."

"And then the leather jean thingies go on next."

"I notice that I don't zip or button these. Like a shoe."

"Exactly. That's the new Bedoowan fashion, I hear."

I took a look at myself in a full length mirror in the water below me. Not bad. The pants had this weird slit-thing going on that went just to the thigh on either side of the leg, but the black leather itself was tight and snug, and actually made me look like I had hips! Sweet! The white cotton shirt was soft and very nice to to the touch, with a V neckline that showed quite a bit of my physique.

Hmm, I thought smugly. Sex-eh.

Now for the last piece.

"Just slide that up and over, and you should be done. I trust you know how to put on jewelery?"

I gave him a blank look before answering. "...Since when have I ever owned jewelery?"

Nails actually snapped his head up to look at me in surprise. He stared, then realized that I'd been joking. "You tie it on..."

"Oh shut up, I know how to wear the damn things, geeze," I scoffed, and tied the poncho-looking thing at the waist with a yellow and blue sash. This furry poncho was gray with black tips, like wolf guard hair, and had triangular slits up at the shoulders. There were holes on either side under the gap for the arms that I tied with the string there until it was good and tight, but maneuverable, and did the same thing on the same V neck part. I fit quite well, and in all, I guessed I was lookin' pretty good for a caveman.

Now for the tedious part.

The necklace of pure white fangs, inlaid with those glaze stones, had to be tied at the back of the neck with this weird little knot. I only had to slip it on, but I had to be careful when adjusting it. I didn't want to accidentally undo it and have to spend the rest of my braincells trying to put it back together.

The bracelets went on either wrist, a string of fat blue beads, a short sword shoved into the sash; and then, last but not least -

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Well, you don't have to wear it -"

"What the hell is -"

"It's supposed to attract the best girls, to show that you're a -"

"Macho? That?"

"Yeah."

"Screw it. I'm...chaste."

"Psh."

"Live with it."

I held what looked like a beaded tortoise shell with a long red strap on the back. At first, I thought it was a mask; but, seeing as their were no eye holes or anything, Nails confirmed that it was some sort of fashionable -

- "I ain't walking out there with everyone staring at my new, ultra-cool looking caveman cup," I hissed, tossing it on the bank. "You can wear it if you want, but that's going a little far for me."

"But the village women -"

"What about them?" I huffed. "It's not like I have to 'marry and deflower the chief's daughter and wives just to have some respect' around here."

Nails stared at me with a blank expression on his face that sent the scathing memo to my head for being correct so much.

My eyebrow twitched involuntarily.

I noticed that the fish he was trying to catch was still there for some reason. Probably listening in on our conversation and laughing it's head off. At the moment, I could swear that it was, and I wanted nothing more than to stake it to the end of that stick and put it out in the sun to bake while it was still alive.

Don't take it out on the fish, Rem. It's just a bystander. That's about to get staked.

"No," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You can't be serious."

"Well, to be in good graces..."

"To hell with good graces. They're in my good graces, they'll get along just fine with me or I'll kill them all. There is no such thing as this, for I -" and here I struck a dramatic pose "-am a god."

"...A demon, actually. An evil spirit."

"...Shut up and go with me on this. I'm not contracting intergalactic diseases just so everyone can like me and make them fight their war with me as their main weapon."

Nails held up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, good grief. Don't wear it, do it your way."

"Thank you," I snarled, and threaded my fingers through my damp hair.

Nails was still staring at me.

"What?" I asked in exasperation.

"I don't think you'll need to wear that after all to get their attention. You keep tossing your hair the way you do, and you'll have everyone's jaws dropping."

I blinked.

"Oh, you think? How well-seen of you. ...You know, if I didn't know any better, Nails, I'd say that that small gesture was turnin' you on, too."

"How could you say such a thing!" he shouted, but his face burned red. Hehe, struck a nerve at last. That's what he got for trying to make me wear Sasquatch's expensive soccer cup.

"Easily." I attached two fang earrings, one for each ear, in the lobes. These didn't look too bad. When we had to strip down at the flume entrance, I had to practically yank my other ones from my ears and leave them behind. I wouldn't have had to so harshly if not for certain circumstances, of course, but hey. At least now the pierces had stopped bleeding and throbbing. These earrings had to slide on and twist on the back of the ear, and my nails nicked stray clusters of dried blood flakes as they did so.

Nails sighed, fed up with me, and braided a tiny section of my hair to weave in two white and black feathers.

"There. You're ready. Now get out of my sight, you're making me -"

"Blush like a daisy?" I offered. Nails glared and shoved the grinning, overgrown, sexy and fanged brat that was me toward the forest.

"Don't flatter yourself."

I snickered and stepped in.

-

When I'd gone in to find my part of the river, I hadn't realized how much I'd twisted and turned to get there. Nails had followed me, but only a few minutes after I'd left to go to the bathroom. Now that I looked around, I realized that to a normal person, there were no other people to see and that we would be, inevitable, lost.

Thankfully, I am no normal person. The scent of humans was everywhere, rank and rather foul; these people probably didn't take baths very often. Ahead of me were the fishing groups, probably still poking the water with those sticks. And speaking of fish, I tilted my head to look at Nails beside me (determinedly not looking at me) and noticed that there was no fish on the end of the spear he was carrying. The little devil had gotten away.

I think I snickered again, out loud.

"What's so funny?" said Nails, finally looking at me and cocking his head to the side.

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"Remmson..."

"What..."

"Tell me."

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"No-thing."

"Damn it, it must have been something or other! Tell me!"

"I just said, nothing!"

"Now!"

"Fine!" I noticed that this meant I actually had something stowed away. So, just to spare him his dignity - or maybe just to bait him a little:

"No."

Nails twitched.

"Tell me."

"No."

"TELL ME!"

"NO!"

"TELL ME!"

"BITE ME!"

"TELL ME NOW!"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" I said coyly, turning my face away and smirking devilishly. "It's no big deal."

"Remmson!"

"Nails!"

"WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME?"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?"

"WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!"

"Answer me first."

"Make me."

Nails groaned. I allowed myself a smug little grin that probably took up most of my face. Only you and I, Josh, ever argue like that, and for good reason: if anyone else argued with me like that, or started to, there wouldn't be an argument at all. Or anyone to argue with. I suppose that things have been pretty weird for the last few hours of my life. I needed a way to relieve that, and I guess this was it.

But I think I had to let it go for the moment. Poor Nails. He knew I was goading him, but hey, maybe he was just bummed about losing the fish. Or was it something I said?

Hm.

We walked on, Nails scowling and I grinning like a jester. I was actually feeling pretty good about myself, and thinking what a great day it was. The birds were out, strange smells, but that of summer, was in the air; fresh, rushing water babbling in clear pools in some areas and leaves rasping in trees every time the wind blew. The sky never looked so pristine and blue -

And then there was a commotion ahead. People shouting and talking hurriedly, rushing back and forth.

What was this?

And then all of them rushing in one direction.

Nails hadn't heard or sensed a thing, still walking slightly behind and to the side of me and sulking. He opened his mouth to comment on something, probably a really late comeback, but I held up my hand to quiet him. Something was wrong. There was a strange new scent on the air that reminded me of those big stray cats in the alleyways.

But wilder.

Nails raised an eyebrow in question, but held his silence and listened. Now that we were drawing closer (I was in no hurry; whatever it was wasn't coming after me) we could hear the screams and shouts of the villagers on the outskirts doing their hunting or fishing. I could feel their beating feet in the ground, and determined that they were running toward the village, converging on a single spot, but not running as in "Ah, stampede!".

Well, not all of them.

Then, an ear-splitting screech, the battle-cry of some giant...cat, shook the air. They had jaguars here?!

"Oh, no," said Nails, and took off running, hand clutching the shaft of the spear tightly.

"Where are you going?" I said.

"Where do you think? I'm heading for the village!"

"Isn't that where the danger's at?" I pointed out, confused.

"Of course! I must go!"

I simply stared.

I'll probably never understand humans, but he was my only tour guide. Fighting hard not to roll my eyes but settling for grinding my teeth instead, I followed at a swifter walk than I had before. I wasn't going to just rush in without a plan. There was the scent of at least four or six on the wind, and I had to think up a strategy first. These things were a pack, hunting down the villagers and distracting the ones that put up a fight in order to go for the weaker ones.

Smart. I was nearing the tree line. Nails had already broken through and was disappearing rapidly into the distance, but I at least knew where he was.

The idiot. There was already the heavy metallic smell and taste of blood spilt in the air. Theses cats got around quickly. As far as I knew, they weren't in the village yet, but the 'protectors' wouldn't be able to hold them off forever.

My hand rested upon the short sword at my hip. The only time I'd ever used one was when sparring with you and Dwight, Josh. Otherwise, I've never really had to. You know that these 'claws' of mine provide ten blades instead of one.

I took my time thinking about it, but wanted to get there before Nails got himself killed. I was curious, and wanted to see what type of other beasties I was going to have to watch out for, even if I had to observe from a tree or something. I mean, me, save people I don't even know? Risking my life for total strangers?

But I needed him.

Damn it.

I broke the tree line and turned towards the village, almost trotting now. I had remembered when you and I had started out in the streets with our pack, we had to find a place to stay and protect it. We have terms that refer to everything in the simplest form, so this would be the 'den' or 'burrow', for those of you who don't know this. If one of us was out foraging, the others would have to stay behind and guard the place, because there weren't many. People literally killed each other just to have a better shelter.

Dogs did the same thing, too. Like with our pack, they had their protection force that protected the ones inside from invaders. Your only purpose is to fight back and protect your pack or die trying.

As I thought more on it, I decided that Nails was a protector-type for his village, and that's why he ran. He wasn't running to the danger, he was running to his post.

Maybe we weren't so different after all.