Hey guys. This is slowly becoming my favorite of everything I've written. It's so different that I feel like i have a lot of liberties with it and I can change some stuff. Thanks to haha77 and Vengeous for the reviews. Means a lot to me to see people that are liking something that is really new and unique. Hope you all enjoy.

2

It was dark. The darkness compressed him, but it also flowed around him like pitch. His hands waved in front of his face and he couldn't see them. He struggled against the bonds of the darkness, making any noise he could so he could see. Nothing worked. His echolocation was gone. He could feel his palms grow sweaty and then he realized there was a sword in his hands. A wide blade, about an inch wide, and heavy, made for piercing and cutting flesh. The weight felt familiar but odd like he had at one point loved the feeling. He cast his eyes towards it through the blackness and he saw the shine of jewels that encrusted the hilt. Red and green they shone back at him, dazzling his eyes with their brightness. It was like a trance, his eyes glued unwavering to them, unable to look away.

"Overlander," something snarled at him from deep in the darkness. The voice echoed and bounced off the walls that hid deep in the black. He wrenched his eyes from the jewels and brought the sword up to a defensive position. All around he heard noises. Rocks crunched underfoot as he shifted his weight. Movement from every direction. And then it all became clear.

A fire roared up behind him and everything was lit up. He inhaled sharply at the sight. All around him in every direction stood a rat. Not the ones you would see in the crappy apartments of New York. No, these were huge eight foot monstrosities. Saliva dripped from massive incisors, the fire reflected in the dark eyes of every rat. Tails swung back and forth, entrancing him in the movement. He could hear jeers and laughter from the ranks of the rats, all of them directed at him, but the words he couldn't make out.

Suddenly the ranks parted and a roar came from beyond the fire light. The overlander held his ground, not flinching at the sound. The ground shook as whatever it was came charging towards him. His heart sped up and he braced his legs. The beast came forth, coat reflecting pink in the light. Froth streamed from his mouth, his tail gnawed bloody on the end slamming into the ground.

"Hello old friend," the monster said as menacingly as he could. The overlander didn't reply. He couldn't. The gnawer glared at him and charged. The warrior stepped to the side just in time to block the claws that swept down towards his face. With speed and agility, he blocked and countered the monster for what felt like hours.

He got behind the beast and was prepared to attack, when out of nowhere the tail came. It slammed into his left, the pain excruciating as the air left his lungs. He felt himself fly through the air and slam into the hard, stone floor. His vision blurred, but he still had fight in him. He clambered to his feet, the ache in his back unbearable, but it was fight or die. The beast came at him again and this time the overlander struck. He stepped towards his adversary, surprising the monster. Between the legs he stepped, his sword flashing in an arc. A cry of pain filled the cavern, so loud that hanging boulder fell from the ceiling, raining rock onto the battlefield. The overlander didn't stop. He took his chance and pierced his sword into the flesh between the beast's hind leg and it's body. The blood poured from the pierced artery like a flood of red. The pain spun the beast around and its eyes shone with bloodlust. A viscous howl left its mouth and it charged low.

Its paw whipped out at the same time the warrior drove the sword forward. They met at the same time. The sword pierced the massive heart inside the beast's chest. The claws ripped into the chest of the warrior, knocking him away. He sprawled on the ground, his blood pooling with the other blood that was there already. It was time to go. He felt the darkness returning, but there was something there now. A purple he hadn't seen was in front of his eyes. "Gregor, Gregor, Gregor," a voice said fading away. And then it touched his chest.

Gregor shot upright like a bullet from a gun. His heart was beating a brutal rhythm in his chest and his hand fell onto the five terrible scars that crossed his chest. His breathing was rapid and shallow and he could feel the cold sweat that covered his body. It was a familiar sensation. A familiar dream. "I haven't had that dream in years," Gregor thought as he took a deep breath and tried to bring himself back to normal.

His eyes looked around the room and he noticed Layla sitting next to him, concern etched on her face. He saw the look in her eyes and she quietly opened her arms to him. He let her wrap him up in her arms, much like his mom used to want to when she found Gregor after his dreams. Then he had pushed her away, not wanting to show that he needed help. Now, though, he welcomed it. The fact that he had seen what he saw for the first time in five years scared him. He couldn't deal with it. He didn't want to deal with it. Not again.

"Gregor," Layla started, her hand rubbing Gregor's back the whole time. "Are you okay?" Gregor nodded his head, but there was no conviction to it. And he knew Layla knew it. "You were thrashing around and moaning. I couldn't wake you up until I touched your chest. Right here." She placed her hand right on the scars that crossed his chest. In the same spot that Gregor had put his hand when he woke up. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Gregor sat in silence for a second, his head full of too many thoughts to count. "No. It was just a dream," he said finally. His eyes caught the clock. It was 5:30, only an hour before he needed to get up. He started to get out of bed when he felt a hand wrap around his arm. He looked back at Layla.

"It wasn't just a dream, Greggie. This wasn't something normal. And you need to talk about it or it will happen again." Gregor let out a sigh and pulled his legs back onto the bed. Leaning back against the headboard, he patted next to him and Layla slid right to his body. He sat silent, thinking of what to say.

"It was a dream I used to have when I was younger. Before I started doing all the things I regret. Before I started drinking and partying. The alcohol stopped it from happening. It went from every night to never, just like that," he snapped his fingers together to show how fast it happened. "It wasn't the alcohol that stopped it though. It was the mindset. I changed my mindset and forgot everything that was causing it."

"Does it have to do with the scar on your chest?" asked Layla carefully. His scars were something Gregor never liked to talk about, something he had told Layla the first time she asked. It was a subject that was almost taboo in their relationship. He looked at all the white spots, that shined in the limited light of the room. The ones that crisscrossed his arms from the vines in the jungle were the most faded, barely noticeable. But the deep cuts on his legs from the cutters were still there. The scar that ran down his calf was still there. The five claw marks on his chest would always be there. and then there was the three inch scars on both his stomach and his back, in almost the exact same spot. That one wasn't from the underland. That one hurt the most.

Gregor answered Layla's question with a nod. There was no point denying the truth. His dream was all about the scar, the pain it had caused him mentally and emotionally. The fear it had brought him.

"Will you tell me how you got it? Maybe I can help if I know." Layla was trying, Gregor knew that. She wanted to help him. She loved him and he knew she could tell he was hurting. But how could he explain to her that he got the scars from a twelve foot rat that he was destined to kill and in the process lost one of his best friends. It would hurt to much to put into words, let alone the fact that she would think he was mental and want proof. Proof he couldn't provide because he wasn't going back, no matter what.

"I can't," was all Gregor could say. He could see Layla analyzing him, studying him. And her face showed disappointment and above all else a bit of anger.

"Can you tell me about any of these?" asked Layla exuberantly, her hand gesturing to all the other scars on his body. He wanted to say no, that it was all too painful to talk about. But there was stuff she would find out eventually and it was better if she heard it from him and not from someone else. Gregor took a deep breath. It calmed him down just enough.

"Layla, you know I had a hard life. I made it hard on myself and my family. You didn't know me then, but I told you about it. I told you how I drank heavily and I did drugs and I did things I didn't think I would. I was a mess. And it all came back to me and almost killed me." Gregor's eyes were wet from the memory. His hand was on the scar on his stomach. His free hand snaked into Layla's. "It was a late one day. I had had a friend of mine over to do a science project. His name was Larry and I had known him forever. We were still friends somehow even with me drinking and partying all the time. He was an artist and didn't have all that many friends. I was one of those few. But I had been drinking that day and I had to drive him home because he didn't have money for a taxi. My family had one car and I took it, thinking nothing would happen. There was never a lot of traffic, so I sped along not a care in the world. Larry had asked me to slow down, but I didn't listen. I hit a pothole, but I tried to swerve around it at the last second. The car flipped, and I blacked out. When I woke up, there was a fire on the road from some of the spilled fuel. Larry was dead. I could see he wasn't breathing. He broke his neck and died instantly."

Gregor had to stop. His heart was aching and tears were running from his eyes. The images flowed freely past his eyes. Every single thing had been his fault and he still felt sorry about it. So sorry. He had to finish though.

"I was pinned stuck and I had thought it was my seat belt. So I managed to disengage the belt and it came off. But I was still stuck. And that's when I had felt the pain. A piece of metal had impaled me through the back and stomach and I was stuck. Somehow, I pulled myself from the car and I pulled it out. I was lucky it didn't hit anything important. They never found out I had been drinking. I lost too much blood for them to tell. The accident was blamed on the pothole and my error. I still can't look at his parents. I can't go to his grave. It haunts me still. And it will til I die. But it did change me. I stopped drinking uncontrollably. I stopped partying. I stopped doing drugs. I tried to focus on school. The rest is history."

Layla didn't say a word the whole time he was talking. He could see that even she had tears in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms and the two sat in embrace holding each other. He was trying to stay strong in the face of the pain that was surging through his shattered heart. It would never be easy to talk about and he would never be able to forgive himself, but he had gotten past it. He had become a better person and he was here because of that.

He looked at the clock again. 6:00 on the dot. With a sniffle he wiped away the remnants of the tears that had graced his eyes. His eyes locked with Layla and saw that she still was crying. He gently brought his thumb up and wiped away the tears. He kept his gaze on hers.

"Hey, Lay, it's okay. It's the past and I'm still okay. I'm here for you. Always. Forever." Layla sniffled a little and wiped her own hands across her eyes, taking away whatever tears were still there.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" she asked Gregor, her voice strained from the crying.

"I couldn't. I guess I feared you would hate me for it like some people do. And I couldn't risk that."

"Oh, Greggie. I could never hate you. You're too sweet to hate." She leaned up and kissed him. The tearful morning was over and it was back to normal. Back to their regular routine.

"Let's go grab some breakfast. Busy day for both of us today," Gregor said sliding out of bed and stretching out his stiff arms and legs. With a shake of his arms and a crack of his neck, Gregor was set and he walked out of the bedroom in only his boxers. He grabbed the coffee and set the maker going. The smell of fresh coffee soon filled the apartment, and he could feel his body anticipating the caffeine.

Layla walked into the kitchen in a large flannel that was Gregor's. She tossed him something which he realized were pants. His eyes asked her what they were for. "Nobody wants to see those boxers," she answered with a laugh. Gregor looked at them. He had them for a year, but they were his favorites.

"What's wrong with these?" asked Gregor back. Layla raised her eyebrows and grabbed the material.

"They have cats on them." That was it for the conversation. Nothing left to say. He pulled the pants on and grabbed to coffee mugs from the cabinet and poured them full of the bitter, dark liquid. He drank his black, but gave the cream to Layla for hers. The bitterness started his body into motion and the caffeine brought him to attention. Soon eggs were cooking on the stove along with bacon and pancakes. It was that kind of morning. He was in the mood for a big breakfast and he knew Layla wouldn't object.

"Hey, Gregor. Look at this," said Layla as she walked back into the kitchen, the day's New York Daily Post in her hands. She was pointing to a story on the front page, right next to the article about the Yankees seventeenth inning win. He grabbed the paper from her outstretched hand and read the bolded words. Local Store Robberies Continue. His eyes look up at her. She had been worried about it for weeks. Local stores were being robbed almost daily, and she was scared his would be next.

"Layla, I don't think anythings gonna happen. This punk can try to rob the store, but I don't plan on letting him. If he wants the money he'll have to get it from me and that's not easy to do unarmed." Gregor was certain he could stop the guy. He had never robbed a store with a gun or a knife or any weapon at all. He just used scare tactics and threatened he had a gun, but they never saw one.

"Gregor, he is armed. It says so here."

"Huh?" Gregor muttered back from the stove. That was something new.

"Yea, it says he drew a gun when the guy behind the counter wouldn't give him the money. Please, be careful and if he ever come to the store just do what he wants. Don't be a hero, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. No hero for me," Gregor said. "I could take him though," he added under his breath as he pulled the eggs off the stove and onto two plates. The bacon came off next and the pancakes topped everything off. He set the plates on the table and set to work on his cooking.

An hour later he was walking out the front door of his apartment, his uniform on and his duffel bag over his shoulder. Layla gave him a quick peck and then she closed the door behind him. He set off down the stairs and through the doors onto the street. It was catching up on 7:30, but he had plenty of time to get to work. Being early was always better than being late and usually that got him on Courtney's good side. He walked down the mostly empty streets. It may have been empty here, but he knew that it would be bustling in Manhattan and traffic would be killer almost everywhere. Even here the cars sped by with more and more frequency.

He walked past his gym, the doors still closed for the day. There would be a busy day in there that afternoon, working on his striking out of grapples. Lots of work, but not nearly as bad as the day before. At least there was a smaller chance he would catch another cross to the jaw. The entrance to the store was only two blocks away when he saw something odd. The lights were already on.

His feet struck the cement with more urgency as he almost sprinted to the entrance. The open sign hung in the window and the door was unlocked. Half an hour early. He shouldered the door open his ears alert to any noises. His hands were bunched into fists and he was ready for anything.

"Courtney. Are you here?" Gregor cried into the store. A frenzy of movement came from the back of the store and then a head popped out from an aisle. The red hair was frizzy from the humidity and her small glasses rested on her nose. It was a sight Gregor was used to.

"Who else would be here? Definitely not Becky," Courtney laughed a wheezy laugh at her joke. The laugh reminded him of Becky though due to her smoking. She never came in before nine and usually that was pushing early for her. He didn't expect to see her until at least eleven.

"What are you here so early for?" Gregor shot at his manager.

"I should probably ask you the same thing, but I won't. I opened early because the owner is coming by today and I wanted everything in the best shape it can for when he comes by." Gregor understood. He had met the owner once, a well off black man who owned many of the other local establishments in the area. Mr. Kauffman was his name and he had been nice enough. Grateful for having such a nice young man working in his store. That is what he had told him anyway. Courtney later told him that he said that to all his employees. Gregor wasn't necessarily happy that he was coming by, but it was a necessary evil. "Maybe he'll miss my shift," thought Gregor as he placed his stuff in the back room. There would be plenty of stuff for him to do so he might as well get on with it.

"What do you got for me to do?" Gregor asked through the door. Courtney's head popped out of nowhere a few moments later. This time her glasses were skewed on her face and she had a box in her hands.

"You can start by taking this box from me," she said dropping the box into Gregor's arms. "Anyway, I need you to organize all the boxes in the back and get the organized and when that's done clean up the bathroom." Gregor had nothing to argue. That is how far he had gone. His dignity lost cleaning a toilet in a corner store where he knew more than enough people had used it. He would take as much time as he could on the boxes, that was for sure.

It was an hour later and he was still shifting boxes. Sweat soaked his shirt as he lifted another box and placed it on the top of the pile. For a small corner store there was a lot of stock in the back and some of it was really heavy. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and grabbed the last box. It slid nicely onto the top of the stack. That was it then. The bell above the entrance quietly rang and he came out of the back to see who was there. From behind the counter he couldn't see anyone in the store. He stood there waiting like normal for whoever it was to come and pay.

"Gregor, why aren't you cleaning the bathroom?" came Courtney's shout from the back room.

"We have a customer, Courtney, and I know how much you hate running the register," he retorted to his manager.

"Fine, I'll clean the bathroom, but I'll remember this and next time I'll make sure this bathroom is putrid before I let you clean it." Gregor swallowed hard knowing Courtney meant it. She hated doing anything but bossing people around.

"So, Gregor, slacking on the job are you?" Gregor spun around to see a black man, slightly shorter than him standing in front of the counter. And he smiled.

"Bo, what are you doing here?"

"Oh you know, buying things. This is a store isn't it?" Bo answered, placing a couple bottles of Gatorade on the counter along with a six pack of beer. Gregor raised his eyebrow at the beer as he punched in all the prices.

"Ten fifty-four," Gregor said as Bo scrounged his pocket for the change he had in there. "What's with the beer? Didn't think you drank."

"I usually don't, but I'm gonna today. Layla told me about your talk this morning and she wants me to make sure you're okay. So we're gonna have some beers later at my place and we'll sort this out." Bo said as he finally found the change he needed and slammed it down along with a ten dollar bill.

"Of course she would tell you about that. I'm not sure there's too much for us to talk about," Gregor said finally after a couple of minutes. Bo came around the corner and sat down on a stool. Gregor turned and leaned against the counter to look at his friend.

"That's your problem, Gregor. You don't want to open up. We just want to help you. And we can't do that if you won't let us. We're just gonna talk about whatever it is that you feel comfortable with. I'm cutting training short today too so we can. And that means you better tell me something good or I'll make tomorrow's twice as hard." There was a muted curse from behind the door to the back room and then Courtney burst out.

"I am never doing that again," she said under her breath. "Who are you talking to?"

"Uhh, Bo is here," Gregor said tentatively to his manager. Courtney instantly perked up and Gregor had to restrain himself from laughing. He knew Courtney had a thing for Bo and it was funny.

"Oh, Bo, I didn't see you there. What brings you here so early?"

"I needed to talk to this guy about training later," Bo said. He was like Gregor and didn't care for Courtney that much. It was her attitude not her looks for him. Courtney was staring at him and it was starting to get kinda creepy.

"Well, umm, Gregor, I'll see you later. Remember drink a lot of water and stay hydrated. Busy day today," Bo said clapping Gregor on the back as he went. He was almost to the door when it burst open. Bo fell back in surprise, dropping the the six pack to the ground. The bottles shattered leaving broken glass and beer all over the floor.

"Hey, man watch-"

"Shut it!" the man walking through the door yelled at him. He was a big man, easily six and a half feet tall. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, obscuring everything but his mouth and chin. With two big strides he was standing in front of the counter, his hand inside his jacket clenching something.

"Empty the register!" he shouted at Gregor. Gregor remained calm realizing the store was being robbed. He opened the register and pulled some money out.

"Umm, I don't have a bag to put it in," Gregor said quietly, his eyes looking past the man and at Bo as his friend stood up and started to move towards the man. It was time to stall.

"I don't have time for this! Find a bag!" the robber yelled, the hand in his jacket clamping down tighter on whatever he was holding. Gregor looked around and saw Courtney standing behind him in shock.

"Courtney get my duffel bag from the back. Now!" Gregor had to shout the last word to get Courtney to move. She dashed into the back and quickly returned with Gregor's duffel. She opened it and dumped its contents out. Gregor started to casally load money into the bag.

"Faster!" the man yelled and he pulled a gun from in his jacket. It was a revolver and he thumbed the hammer back, shoving the barrel in Gregor's direction, only a foot from his face. He didn't speed up, but kept calmly stuffing money into the bag until it was full. He zipped it up and stared the robber in the eyes.

"Here's your money, sir. Have a nice day," Gregor loaded the sarcasm into his words. words he said to every customer at the store. He felt the man hold his stare before he turned. As he turned Bo sprang at him. The former wrestler grabbed the man's arm and pulled the money bag away from him. It went flying across the floor. And then it was a scuffle. Gregor watched as Bo grabbed the much bigger man in a headlock, trying to drag him to the ground. But he fought back.

Bo went rocking around the man's body, losing his grip. He skidded away and then the gun was only inches from his face. Gregor watched it in slow motion. The robber tightened his finger on the trigger. The noise filled the small store as the bullet erupted from the end of the barrel propelled by superheated gas. The bullet moved the few inches in no time and struck. Bo went reeling, blood spurting from both sides of his head. His brains splattered on the floor. Gregor screamed.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" And then his vision blurred. Red was the only color he saw. He felt himself vault over the counter and he heard crying from behind him. The robber was right in front of him as he jumped. He felt his fist make contact with the man's chin and then everything went black.

Everything came back to him really fast. All of his senses were assaulted from every direction. The coppery smell of blood filled his nose, the stickiness on his hands and his clothes, the sound of sirens and crying, the taste of sweat and blood in his mouth. And of course what he saw. Bo was sprawled on the ground, his body limp and his blood pooled underneath him. Gregor slumped by his side, the liveliness gone from his eyes. Gregor slid his eyes shut, realizing his hands were covered in blood. And then he felt the pain. His knuckles were bruised and some of them were bleeding.

His eyes left Bo's body and looked around the store. Courtney was huddled behind the counter and he could see she was disheveled, her makeup running down her face from her tears. But it was what she was looking at that scared Gregor. The robber was lying lifeless in a massive pool of blood. His face was a mess bashed and crushed, brain matter oozing from the wounds. His chest looked like it had been crushed in with a hammer, it was that depressed. And blood was still oozing from the wound on his chest. Gregor looked for the gun that had shot Bo. And he saw it lying to the side, the handles covered in blood. Gregor stood on wobbly legs and he vomited.

He heaved and heaved all over the floor. He hadn't seen something this bad in a long time. This was like a maniac had attacked the man, and he couldn't figure out who did it. And then he started to see it piece by piece. His fists battering the man over and over. Taking the gun in his hand and slamming it into the man's head, his knee crushing the ribs under it. His head couldn't take it. The cops slammed the door open, gun drawn right as Gregor hit the floor, consciousness leaving him.

Really made this chapter very focused. That was my goal and I think I made it work well. Leave a review and tell me what you think and like about the story so far and this chapter specifically. I'm trying to give the story a dark side. More gruesome and stuff.