This is my first attempt at a dark angst/tragedy/romance/action and slightly odd fan fiction. This is not yet M rated but will be if I ever finish this one. Good luck, also a dedication goes out to anyone who reviews and:

a) Names the characters

b) Puts a name to my plot device

c) Gives me some advice

I'm pretty sure you can do all that so get typing.

Oh and I'm gonna dedicate this one to Izzyklausfanficwriter, just for keeping me writing.

Darkness

Then there were three. Three left to fight a war, three people hiding in an abandoned store, three grieving for losses. They all wore something black, the colour of the night, the colour of deceit, treachery and the covert, the colour of evil and lies, the colour of death. That described the lives of the three perfectly. It didn't necessarily describe them, just the way their lives had gone. The first had been running, hiding, fighting for so long he'd forgotten what this was about. He'd lost so many friends and relatives over the past years death no longer fazed him. He was a man dedicated to his covert war. His black overcoat and hat showed him for what he was. To most a shadow, a myth, a ghost, but to his two companions he was the most real thing they had ever known and the only reason they had so far remained in the land of the living. He was an unknown, the enigma as every one of their enemies now called him. Only two people knew his true identity and they were sitting with him. The second, sat with her knees tucked up to her chest. She used to be a poet, a thinker, a dreamer. But now clad in a black tank top and tight jeans she was a different person. Now she only knew anger and sorrow. To her the world was heartless. Her heart had but one refuge that kept her sane. Sane and fighting against the evils that had so cruelly ripped her life out from under her. The third polished his glasses. He was logical, calculating and since the preceding years events, a little colder. He was wearing a black button up the front T-shirt, a little worse for wear. His demeanour described what he was feeling, he kept to himself and just watched the others, OK, just one of the others. They were like a family. They were all they had in the world besides themselves. They had all lost their families. Their parents had all died in a series of fires lit by their enemies. They had all recently lost their siblings, the first in a count's web of greed, the second to a mycologist's jealousy and the third's to a villainous girlfriend's wrath. They now loved life on the "edge", the edge of insanity, the edge of reason, the edge of their life. Man's last bastion of good against the forces of evil.

They had watched many people die. They had watched many evil deeds. They had seen horrors that most people couldn't even imagine. They were hiding. They didn't actually know why they were hiding. Te forces of justice were now controlled by the forces of evil. They had no-one who could help them. They lived on the edge of a knife. Always moving, never stopping. Their only hope was a storage device which held some information which could bring these people down. That device had not been found by either side since it was last in the pond of a certain hotel. It had been taken by someone who saw a stylish picnic accessory in the pond. No-one had ever opened it and lived. The evil forces made sure of that. It radiated the last hope for good and a chance for evil to be invincible.

The store was cold, the heater sullen, they unrolled their sleeping bags and set up for the long wait until evil stopped looking for them.

Alright you know what to do when you hit the button, if not, read the top.