A/N~

So, this chap is going to be mostly about The Hessian.

Just so we can see his side of the story as it's happening.

Also, if you note, he doesn't speak much english. Mainly german dialect and some english phrasing, being a mercanary I doubted that if anyone were to seek him for hire, they would speak to him in his native tongue rather than him having to learn english himself, though he still picked up on it anyway. I mean, the man probably dealt with english speakers quite often and you can't just deal with people that long with out learning a thing or two.

All will be translated and such. But, forgive me if the german speak isn't very accurate.

I'm always open for critisism, so if you see any errors like such, feel free to pm me about them.

Anywhoodle, off we go.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own shit.

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The fire light flickered like tall grass in a windy feild, casting about shadows of dancing demons, Flying wildly about in their gay antics to a rhythmless song of crackling wood and whsipering flames. Amongst the shadows was a solid black form of leather. The Hessian stood motionless in the darkness as his master paced the damp hide away. "Impossible! I give you one simple task and you fail!" Barked his cloaked master. "And, they call you a 'Master Hunter'!" The flames of the fire spike suddenly with the Horseman's rage. "You can't capture ONE little girl, yet can slaughter hundreds of men in a day. HA!" The hooded man then takes up a satin bundle and the Hessian stiffens, if he could even more. "You're getting old my friend. The decades have not been kind to you; you have grown slow and weak from years of rest. Dulling your senses and...mind." An electric chill runs up his spine as he stares at the bundle in is Master's hands, it called out to him, beckoning him. His master quickly steps to the fire, his barely illuminated eyes glaring at his undead servant. "If you fail me once more.." he speaks as he holds the satin blanketed item above the fire pit. "I will destroy your fucking skull and you'll be condemned to the above world for all eternity." The satin is ripped away to reveal the sharpened grinning cranium of the Headless Horseman. The Hessian stepped forward, wanting to swipe his skulll away and drag his bastard master to Hell with him, but his Master stepped away from the flames, back turned and clicking his tongue. "Oh, no. You will not get this that easily old friend." He chuckles. "You'll be lucky to even receive it at all, with how poor your performance has been." He place the skull in a shrine- like hole in the wall, standing crosses and statuettes of the Virgin Mary. "And, I'll make sure of it so until you bring me what I want." The Hessian's fists were balled tight in anger, anger he could not act upon. "And, what I want." his master continued. "Is that meddling BITCH'S HEAD!" He quickly grabs a chalice of red wine and aggresively threw it into the flames, the fire rising high enough to lick at the ceiling of the musty room and burning away roots that reached from above. "And as for your pet." The cloaked Master spoke, refering to the Hessian's steed Daredevil. "It is highly outdated and slow. It is not capable of keeping pace with modern vehicles or anything motorized." This did not please the Horseman having to hear that his longest companion was obsolete for the tasks being asked of them. "In the stead of your beloved horse. You'll be using this." He tosses a shiny object into the air and the Hessian quickly catches it as it flies to him. A key of some sort, he identifies it to be. "You either learn how to ride it or else. Understood?" his master says and leaves the room through a trap door, leaving the Hessian to his thoughts and silence. This was utter bullshit.

"Hurry up! While the night is young." His master calls from outside. It angered him greatly to be called for like this. To be called at anytime was aggitating enough, but to be treated less than he was nearly set him aflame. He was The Dark Rider! He was what struck fear into the hearts of men and being bossed by an ungrateful brat as his master, gave him more reason to seek vengeance. More reason to plot against his resurector.

He stepped quickly into the night, his master waiting for him to accompany. "Now, if you wreck it, you fix it. I will not take responsibility for any incidents." His master said and lead him to a new metal beast he had yet to see. It possessed only two wheels instead of the four most had. And had no doors, only a seat and a bar to hold on to. The Hessian aproached it slowly. Was he expected to mount this future contraption? His master stands idly by as he examines the creature. "It's faster than your horse and smells better than the both of you." An unappreciated comment from the horse and rider's master.. The Hessian throws a leg over the seat of the monster, hands grasping the bar. "Now, put the key in the hole." His master says as if explaining a simple question to a dim child. "And, turn it." The Hessian does as he is instructed, finding no result when he tried to turn the key. "The Other Way!" His master spat. He turns it to the right and the beast rumbles to life. This is unexpected by the Hessian to find his loins vibrating from the engine of the two wheeled creature. He feels at the bar more to find that the grips on one side would turn. "Play with it until you can use it properly. When I return, I expect you to be efficient on a motorcycle." His master spoke and then left in a metal beast of his own. So, that's what the two wheeled beasts were called. But, the Hessian didn't favor the name. But, he did enjoy the sleek black body of his humming monster. He flips the small gear lever on what he understood was some kind of stirrup or foothold and figits with the turning grip.

Suddenly, the metal beast flies forward. The Hessian quickly let's go of the grip and the bike slows to a speedy stop when he halts the entire vehicle with a foot on the ground, digging into the dirt. How was he expected to tame such a creature? It would take him more than a night with the little instruction he was given, that being not very much. He growls and slowly turns the grip again, slowly enough that the bike creeps across the ground. He finds another oddity on the bike. A silver lever on the bar. He reaches for it and finds that with it, the bike does not move despite how far he turns the moving grip. The wheels spin quickly, kicking up grass and dirt with a loud rumble from the motorcycle. Just how fast could he go on this machine? Without another thought, he lets go of the silver lever and shoots off into the feild. It almost throws him off, but he holds fast to the bars.

The speed is exhilirating as he flies through the country side. He pulls back on one grip, turning the machine sharply around a tree, the wheels still turning and flinging dirt into the air. This is just what he needed. He cared much for his old friend, Daredevil, but his legs did not compare to the unyeilding speed of the two wheeled creature beneath him. Another sharp turn and he rides into the thick Western Woods, flying by the numerous trees. Much sleeker and faster, perfect for a hunter. With another sharp turn he halts before a twisted tree he called home, his horse standing just outside of it. It reared on it's hind legs, stomping on the ground at the presence of the motorcycle. The horse was not pleased. "Gib mir nicht diesen blick." said the Hessian in his thick accent. "Es ist nicht meine wahl. Der Master fordert er." DareDevil snorts and turns away from his rider, resuming his grazing on the dead yellowing grass that surounded the Howling Tree. The Hessian huffed at his steed's behavior. He dismounted the bike, kicking down the kickstand after finding the bike would not stay upright without so, the engine still humming. He still hadn't a full understanding of the vehicle yet and would have to fiddle with the foot levers to figure just how they worked.

Long strides carried him to his horse, nose still to the ground and dry grass in mouth. The Hessian's gloved hand combed through the black horses mane. DareDevil flinched away with a displeased snort, still upset. "Sie konnen bose sein alles was sie wollen." The Hessian spoke, still petting his horse's raven mane. DareDevil, head now raised, roughly nudges his rider's shoulder. He was still unnhappy, but would get over it. The Hessian stroked DareDevil's snout, scratching under the horse's jaw. "Gut." The Hessian gives him a last pat on the horse's neck before returning to the motorcycle and its still rumbling engine. He mounts the bike and foots at the pedal. He still only had the night to learn how to control the beast and without any other help than what he was given, it was going to take him nearly the entire night. "Wie zum teufel kann dieses schweigen?"

"Looks like yer havin' some trouble." a man says. The Hessian pivots. Behind him were two men in trucker hats, jeans, boots and dirty plaid shirts, both holding cans of brewed alchahol. "Hey, Hey now. Boss sent us to help ya out. No need to git antsy." Said one, downing his beer and crushing the can, tossing it away into the forrest. The Hessian carefully got off the bike, not taking his sight off the two men. He reckognized them. The three men he had seen before taking orders from his Master, one was missing though. Ah. That was right. He had killed one.

Not long after his first awakening, he had been called forth to rise from his grave to serve another Master, his current director of mayhem. He had woke to four men standing around him and DareDevil, all keeping their distance from horse and rider. He had the immediate urge to kill. He had unsheathed his sword and was instantly peirced through his chest. The bullet came from one of the four men, one shaking and noticebly drunk. "Put that down!" said one. But, before the man could tuck away his fire arm, the Hessian was on the ground, marching towards the fumbling drunk. The gun is fired again, cutting through armor and flesh. The two other men flee from their comrads side, leaving him alone as the Hessian stalked closer. "Jesus, the fuck did you-?" said one of them to the other. "Shut up." Was the Man's reply. The three men stood and watched as their friend backed away into the thicket of the forrest then dashing into the darkness. The Hessian had no desire to chase scared rats and strides to his horse. "What are you doing?" Said a man. "Are you not going after him?" The Hessian turned to him and just stared in silence. Why, yes. He was NOT going to hunt down a drunken fool in the middle of a forrest, that had grown much taller since the last days when he had walked the Earth, for no damn reason other than being peeved. He wanted to return to his Hellish rest. The man frowned deeply as the Hessian mounted his horse and trotted to the entrance of Hell, via tree. "Kill him." the man says, his voice shaking. Every muscle in the Hessian's body seized, his will no longer his own; he pulled the reins and made a sharp turn around before flying into the forest. "Bring me his head!" The man calls from the distance, the two others staring at him in shock. The drunk was not fast, but had managed to run far from the scene, slowing to catch a breath until he heard the heated hoof beats of rider and steed. A sudden inspiration to sprint found him and he fled deeper in the woods, tripping and shouting. He was close to the clearing he and his associates had entered through, climbing over the dirt mounds and boulders to the grassy exit. But, louder and louder the heavy breath of the midnight speed demon grew, catching closer behind. "No!" The drunk cries as he scurries out of the Western Woods and into the open. But, despite his cries, the Hessian's Hellfire hot blade cut cleanly through his neck, his hands instinclivly reaching for it until he fell motionless. But, it wasn't a victory. It was a chore. Therefore meaningless to the Hessian. A sudden demand made to him just as he wakes. Head in hand, he dashes back into the forest to return the cranium to his now Master.

That was his first kill in decades and the beginning of a new reign of terror, he the Horseman of Death and War. But, though his rides be victorious in the small town, he found himself perplexed by the fleeing target that illuded him. He felt that glow of life before at the cabin he had been ordered to attack. The girl. The gentle glow that eminated from her, he could feel from the prey that had escaped him the night previous. And her scent, he remembered, was sweet and warm, no perfumes nor fragrances. Just the scent of her ivory skin. He sometimes contemplated how he had all these senses, hearing, sight, and scent, without a head. But, it was not questioned as it was appreciated to have some senses still with him, taste being lost to him with his skull. But, once his head was secure in his possesion again, he could taste all the pleasures the above world gave, just as he tasted the coppery blood of former Lady Van Tassel, also known as the last of the Archer family. He had taken his first and final taste of the above world and delved into the dark undergrounds of the dead, taking the Archer witch with him to the Fiery Lakes; currently his plans for his new master. But, how he would reclaim his skull from him was hard to say. It was practically chance when it was returned to him by Ichabod Crane, so how he would repossess it would have to be carefully planned or would have to be by the grace of God, which he thought would be very unlikely since it was He who had damned him for the lives the Hessian had taken over the years he shook the Earth with his haunting laughter and the sharp cut of his dark sword. That and the accursed young Archer girl that grew into the Witch he knew had made a pact with the Devil to exact her revenge on the prospering Van Tassels.

He was quite tired of being woken and sent to serve these petty masters with their irritating orders and quests. He wasn't even sent to kill as much as he was sent to scavenge for his now master. Degrading in everyway to this hunter, to wonder the forest for animals and miscellaneous. It was high time that he showed his master that he was not a runner of errands. He was feared and renouned and would remind his master just whom he had risen from the grave.

"Here, if'ya kick this'on down, it'll switch gears like this." said the beerless man, kicking at the small pedal to shift gears. "This controls the brakes. You pull on this an'll stop you right quick. And this right here is where you put the gas so that it can move. Don't let anything else like water in there or it'll fuck'er up." The Hessian listened well to the instruction. "This." the man continued as he turned the key. "Turns'er off and on." The engine suddenly went quiet and he removed the key. "The longer it's on, the more gas it burns, and the more gas it burns the less gas you have in your tank and I don't think you have gas money. Pretty sure you don't need to give a damn as seeing no one would stop you from gettin' yourself some from the gas station for free." What was a gas station? "That's sure as Hell true. Bet you'd scare Achmid half to death." Said the other country boy. "You'll have him paler than the ass end of a deer." The men laughed. The Hessian found no humor to be had and stayed silent, the men's laughter dying off into awkward chuckles. A moment of silence passes as the Hessian watches the men. Beerless finally speaks. "Well, any questions er anythin'?" Silence is taken as an answer for 'No.'. "Alrighty, well, have fun. Anything breaks or doesn't seem right, Roy and I'll fix it up if we can. And, before you go back in your, uh, tree, leave it some ways off, so we can pick it up. Don't know what the Hell will happen to it in there." And with that, the men left the Hessian with his beasts of speed.

The Horseman could feel the rising of the sun nearing by four hours time and took the moment to investigate the mechanics of the bike, throwing one leg over and testing out the now informed on bits and peices. The engine roars to life and he takes the bike out of first gear, into second, and into third, speeding through the forest at a dizzying pace. But, he suddenly stops, almost flinging himself from the bike with the sudden brake, a groove in the dirt from the halted wheels formed a line behind him. Reaching behind he pulls at his cape. It was taut, caught on a tree branch. He could have been easily yanked from the motorcycle had he continued riding. He tugs sharply and with a tearing noise as his cape is freed. This would become a problem. He hadn't had such an issue on his horse, but with as slender and sleek as the bike was compared, there was more likability off his cape snagging on whatever sharp or tangling object the Western Woods was full of. Just one problem after the other. He also noticed the close proximity his cape had with the hind wheel. Thoughts of it getting caught in the spinning death trap did not appeal to him.

But, despite the slight setback, he continued riding through the night until dawn broke and he returned to his tree, leaving his new toy a number of yards away. He then mounted his horse; returrning to his underworld home. The rotted heads of past decapitated were moved out of his way as well as thick roots filled with blood and sap, all weaving back into their thick bundle after the Hessian and his steed return. Darkness and fire licked them as he rode on, Feeling much like a child stuck in an oven to serve as a meal for cannibalistic witches. The roots soon gave way to open humid air. Screams of the damned filled the dirt skies; their souls burning in the scortching lakes, punishment for their sins. He too had bathed in the lakes of fire until he rose. He now stood with the demons that once haunted him here, that had tortured his soul and mind. They sneered at him as he rode passed. They despised his able to return to the above world that they yearned to see and taste. Very jealous creatures demons were of the living and of the returned as the Hessian was. The Hessian though would gladly give them his curse if he could and let them reek Hell on the living while he instead poked and prodded the eternally damned. But, such a fate would not be bestowed upon this rider as he drove through the burning feilds. His fate was to cross the dead fields and find his resting place amongst the forsaken; A cabin with abundent space, broken and old and singed black served as his underworld home. Above it, roots had grown low into the frame of the house from above, bleeding thick globs of red. His home had no sky to sit under nor no ocean to look over. In the stead of sky there was earth and rock, in place of an ocean despair and flame swept like waves on the shattered souls of man.

"Bastard Rider." A demon spitefully calls from behind fossilized corpses of souls, hardened by immense heat. "Ghost." an other whispers. "Damned." they chant. More demons peered with their ugly contorted faces at the Rider, whispering names and curses. They meant nothing to the Hessian, but the taunting soon ate at his nerves when the demons drew closer, staying hardly at bay. Simply egging him on from a few yards away as he entered the shack.

Inside, the 'treehouse' was dark, its cracked walls packed with decades of ash, dirt and blood. Sealing the roasted boards of the walls from the outside fire light. He walked into the darkness, having memorized exact steps of the entire household over the hundreds of years. He reached in the darkness, his hand feeling the ridged bricks of a hearth. An ember still glowed dimly under the iron cradle. He wills the ember to catch aflame and ignite the remaining tinder, giving light to what seemed to be a sitting room of sorts, holding a large lone armchair of burnt leather and oak. He pondered a moment wether he would sit here and gaze into the small fire and go over what he had learned of the mechanical beast he'd been given, or to leave all thoughts behind him and rest til he was called again. If you could call lying awake for hours until sunset rest, for the Horseman was unable to sleep, just like the rest of the damn whom were awake day in and day out, their after lives filled with unceasent torture. He decided on the latter.

Walking into a small room, the Hessian fell onto the rickity old hay mattress that had been singed by small flames that escaped the ground. Nothing really caught fire in the Underworld, just burned and burned slowly until only charred remains were left. Such as happened to the roots high above in the domed dirt and stone sky. Not quite Dante's Inferno, but closely as dreadful. The wails of the damned cut though the walls of the shack, a nuesance to all but the Hessian. He didn't care for their screams or their begging. They would wollow in suffering just as he did for years and years before them, some even before he had died had grown quieter, more resentful; few being tired and accepting of their fate, turning into the demons that tortured and plagued them in this world. Some he had brought down there himself, where they now taunt and hiss t him from afar. One in particular was Lady Archer, her features contorted far from recognition, but her hideous face still marred by the sharp teeth of the hessian. Her insults and callings were exceptionally grotesque and full of hatred.

Witches. Warlocs. Desturbers of the dead. They fooled with laws they barely understood. Wanting nothing but their own gain with no thoughts of the consiquences to come when conjuring and plotting schemes with the undead. Utilizing the dark powers for their greed and envy. Such pride they must have felt to conjure a being such as the Hessian, only to find theirselves at his mercy when the contract was fulfilled. And, he would have his day, soon. But, at the moment he was more concerned with letting his corpse rest until dusk. He lied there in the dark, letting his thoughts roam freely without giving much care what they were, as long as he could relax. He didn't even care that he had not shed his centuries old uniform before flopping onto the bed, as uncomfortable as it was. He just drifted off into a calm rest. The closest thing to sleep he could grasp. The almost numb feeling one gets if they lay long enough, where the mind drifts away deeperr and deeper into the subconcious, leaving behind the body and the world until roused to clearity. Dark blurred thoughts were all that filled his , currently missing, mind, causing his muscles to loosen and go limp as his day dream grew brighter and clearer; the surounding screams of the damned fading away into the darkness.

Soon, the smell of sulfur and brimstone were replaced by the scent of warm sweetness. And, the hot flames of Hell appeared to cool into gentle rays in his thoughts. Much like the rays of sun in the above world, only he could feel its warmth on his face and skin. He scorned the thoughts of feeling the sun on his face, knowing he would not ever feel it again as he existed. But, he quickly forgot when the warm scent swept over his conciousness. Engulfing him in the delicate smell. He remembered a similar smell when he was a boy and had lived with his mother near a confectinairy. The smell of chocolate and cream drifting down the dirt cobbled roads. He would beg his mother or just a taste of the delicious treats, knowing well his mother could not afford it, but wanting it anyway. She was good to him, as good to him as any mother that loved her boy more than life itself. But, with no money, she had to decline his request. He wanted he sweet so badly and hated being denied what he so desired. But, even if he wanted it, he would leave it and follow closely behind his mother, his then tiny hand clutching the skirt of her dress. He remenisced in the aroma, fading into the deepest depths of his subconsious; able to day dream vivid colors of the past, all that he had left. But, thought of sweets and boyhood morphed into his years of military training and wars. Chaos unraveling in his mind as he wove through the timeline of his life, images of blood and fire flooding his memories like a busted dam. His body tensed. Each pain staking moment ripping through him, his life, his career, to his final moments before being beheaded by his own sword and the God awful life right after. Every pained second he could feel of his former body, rotting and wasting away into bone, his sould being torn to shreds and pieced back together just to be torn apart again. To the very moments he was summoned over and over by master after next. His rest was anything but rest, just motionless torture. His memories being consistent of pain and discord.

Suddenly...it was all sweet again.

It was all...calm.

His aching hands felt soft textures beneath them. Frail and small, and endrearingly gentle. He reached out to the thought. Pulling it closer until he could hold it there in his mind. Burying himself into the sweetness he had found again and not wanting to let it go. The sweet scent was different though, yet not far from the warm smell of candy that he knew. His arms and legs fell at ease and his chest inhaled deeply, as if he wanted to inhale the tender aroma.

But, just as the sensation came, it left and was quickly relaced by searing pain in his skull.

He had been called forth

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Meanwhile...

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(Melodie POV)

"PAPA! PAPA!" Cried timid Billard, his skinny legs dashing upstairs. "PAPA!" His Papa had been sitting at a desk, going over some papers in his hand when his grandchild burst into the room. "The Hell is goin' on?" His Papa stood ubruptly and rushed to the doorway. "Granny Beth is outside! She- She-" Billard could barely speak, being out of breath. His Papa wasted no time running down stairs and flinging the screen door to the house open. "Beth!" he called loudly. I was still on the ground, dazed from the sudden visions. He ran across the front yard. My brother was quick to move out of his way when he reached for Granny Beth, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her away roughly enough to release her grasp on me. "No! NO! She MUST SEE!" Beth shreiked, her long nails clawing at his arms, drawing red lines that began to bleed. He exclaimed from the pain and grabbed her arms, folding them against her. "Beth! Beth, calm down!" He barked angrily and pulled her away further. Billard already had tears spilling down his cheeks. Beth continued skreeching, most likely terrifying poor Billard. "Bill! Go get her medicine, now!" His Papa yelled, snapping the boy out of his sobs. Billard ran away into the house, returning with a pen-like object. His Papa was now on the ground, Granny Beth sitting infront of him with her legs flailing about. Billard was very hesitant when nearing his Papa, but managed to get close. "Give it'ere." He said, and Billard quickly gave him the pen. He pressed the tip into her arm, holding on to her tightly as so she wouldn't escape. The screaming became less and less until Granny Beth finally was reduced to a drooling groaning heep. "Come on, Beth." Billard's Papa said, and picked up the sedated croon. "Let's get you back inside." I somehow was able to prop myself on my elbows and look at the scene as it played out. Billard was walking towards me and my brother stood near. "You alright?" Trentin asks me as I watch Billard's Papa take Granny Beth inside. "I think so." I replied. "My head really freaking hurts though." I say trying not to cuss in front of the kid. I sit up fully and reach again for my bag. "Bill." His Papa called. Billard hurried inside.

I reach up and my brother lends me a hand, pulling me up quickly.

"That shit was fucking crazy." the fifteen year old said as he pulled me to a stand. "For-fuckin'-real though." I added and dusted off the grass on my clothes. I wanted to tell my brother about what I saw, but decided to wait until later. It wasn't something I would want to discuss right away until I was sure no one else was about. Reason for my being so cautious; I didn't want to seem like a fucking wackadoo to someone that might over hear. But, upon looking about I found no one near that may be eaves dropping, the house being rather secluded. But, it did not ease my nervousness, only giving me a feel that if someone WERE watching us, they were hiding very well. I sling the strap of my bag over my shoulder and check the contents within, making sure that I do not leave anything behind I may miss. My eraser was missing. I looked around the grass for the rectangular white chunk that all my pencil work depended on. You know, I fucking repel erasers. They hate me. I know they do. Why? Because, they always fucking run away. Like, why!? I searched through the yellowing grass, hoping the white color would make the eraser stand out. "What are you doing?" My brother asks. I take a moment to look a bit more before answering him. "I am looking for my damn eraser. Ah Ha!" I quickly find my eraser and bendd down to retreive it But, as I do, a sudden buzzing is felt in my bag. I pulled out the nokia, Officer Isaea's name taking place on the screen. "Hello?" I answer the phone. "Melodie, we just received a call about an attack, where are you?" I fumbled about for words for a moment before I spoke. " Oh, uh we, uh well, Billard asked us if we wanted to come over for a bit and do some homeworl and hangout, but uh his grandpa's sister went nuts on us." In the background of the twin's side of the line, i could hear the scratchy noise of the radio. Isaea finally spoke again after a monet of listening to his police scanner. "Billard. That's the same Billard who's Papa is your principal, right?" I confirmed it with a 'yes'. "Okay, I'm almost there. I'll take you guys home after I talk with Randall and get this report written up. Alright? Okay, I gotta go." He quickly hangs up the phone and my brother immediatley asks "Who was that?" I put the phone away and my eraser. "Officer Isaea, a neighbor or someone called about what just happened and now he's on his way to write a report about it ad then he's goona take us home." He was satisfied with the info. Billard stepped out of the house and walked straight to us, his hands busy twisting his shirt. "Uh, my Papa says that you have to go home soon." He looked so sad when he said this. I nodded rubbed the top of his head. "No prob. One of the cops are actually coming over to see what's going on and then he's gonna take us home. You might want to tell your Papa that." Billard, his eyes just the slightest bit teary, looked to the ground and very quietly he said "Okay." and went back inside. Not too long after, a police cruiser pulls into the curved drive way. Out of the vehicle steps Isaea and from the front door came, whom I guess first is Randall a.k.a. Billard's Papa, Billard following close behind him. "Isaea." Randall spoke out with his hand out reached as he came up to Isaea, the officer handing out his hand as well and the two shaking in greeting. And before Isaea even acknowledge my brother and I, he and Randall went inside. Just before entering, Randall stopped an turned to his grandson. "Go on and play with them before they go, we got adult business to talk about. Go on." Billard's expression lifted bt and he hurried over to us.

I took the moment to improvise and just as Billad made it to us, I slap my brother's arm and shouted out "Tag your it!" And ran. Both boys were confused for a monet until my brother made to tag Billard. But, Billard had jumped away and my brother ended up missing the close range target. Billard then ran off as well, Trentin chasing after him, being mindful of his speed, he slows as to not tag Billard too quickly. Billard though, was fast as well and soon passed me as my brother chased him. But, as they did, I felt my brother's hand on my upper back. "Tag." He says with a mischevious smile and dashes faster than I can away from me. I decided to make Billard my target and spotted him trying to hide behind a thin tree. He was much happier, his cheery smile hiding behind sparse leaves. The rest of the evening was spent chasing each other and saying goodbyes as the sun sank lower into the western woods. It would be dark very soon and there was no telling when the Hessian was gong to strike next. It was by the time the sun had rest almost halfway behind the tall trees when Officer Isaea finally stepped back into the yard with Randall. They were still speaking but, with the sign that they were saying good byes. "Billard!" Randall called for his grandson. "You gotta tell your friends goodbye, their goin home." Out of breath Billard huffed out. "Okay Papa." I was out of breath too and so was my brother. Billard had much more energy than we did. "Well, uuuh, bye Melodie. Bye Trentin." He wrapped hus little arms around my middle and hugged me and then my brother before leaving to his Papa's side. Isaea then stepped away and waved for us as he told his goodbye to Randall and Billard. "Alright, backs a bit cramped due to the divider, just a fair warning." He said as he opened up the doors for us. We hoped in and got buckled up, then finally started on our way to the Van Tassel estate. " Did you guys have a good day?" Isaea asks from the front. Trentin replied first with a 'Good. and I then with 'Same.' A lengthy moment of silence passes and the twin speaks again. "Are you guys, uuhh, ready for tonight?" This one we didnt answer to quickly to. Instead, we thought silently t ourselves about our answer. I took a deep breath and tried t answer but, what was I gonna say. 'No, I'm not.'? I looked to little brother. I wanted to know what was going on in his head. And from the looks on his face, it couldn't have been something good. I was becoming incrisingly worried about his mental health. I knew mine was shit. But, he didn't let people into his head. He rarely ever tld me if something was bothering him. A minute or so passed without us answering and Isaea spoke again. "Me neither. But as long as you two stay togther, you'll be fine." His words weren't very comfoting but the try was appreciated. I put a hand on my brother's arm and gave it a small squeeze. Then, unexpectedly, my brother moves his arm out of my touch and wraps it around my shoulders, bringing me in for a short hug. I hugged him back with akward sibling back pats. It was nice to know he wasn't shy of hugging his big sister like when he was younger. He tried his best to be a tough bud, and he was, even back then he was tough. He had to put up with me. He was a good kid and still is. We let go of each other and as I looked to the windshield, I saw the Van Tassel house's shadowed silhouette against the burnt dusk sky.

ONce we were inside and had put our stuff away, Isaea and I started on dinner whilst Trentin sat in the living room watching tv and snacking on some candy I had given him from my bag. Not too long after we began cooking did Isaac come through the front door. "Sun's still up, but not for much longer." He said as he set down a plastic bag and began to take off his badge and other cop accesories save for his side arm. "Trentin, help me shut up the windows better." My brother got up immediately to assist. The weren't doing muchsave for locking the shutters that had hidden out of sight behind the curtains and then moving on to the doors. Isaac took up the bag and pulled out a few packages up odd shaped hardware. "Let's get these screwed into the door frames." The continued to work with power tools and screws as Isaea and I finished up cooking a quick dinner of spaghetti and garlic toast. I thankfully took out sometime the other day before we went out to the fields of hay to make a pitcher of sweet tea. Dinner was gonna be nothing but comfort food and for dessert there wass a big red bowl of jell-o covered in plastic wrap in the fridge. I opened the oven and slid in a cookie sheet of garlic toast, seeing as the spaghetti was almost done. I close it up and set aside the oven mitts to grab plates and forks as well as cups. Isaea was busy making salad, which I was debatig if I was really going to eat or not. Reminder: Not a big veggie eater. But, it was a plain salad with just lettuce. None of the prepackaged stuff either. They like getting their produce from the close by farmers market. I had yet to visit that place and I would have to if it weren't for the fact I'm fucking terrified at every turn. Not even being out in daylight was safe. I dreadful feeling came over me as I wondered if I was being targeted. I looked to the corner of the kitchen where a long blade sat propped against the wall. I had forgotten to tell the twins about the sword, with all the comotion of the night we were attacked head on made me forget that we had the hessian's blade. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, feeling at the slightly burning scare I had been left with. It wasn't even that much of a painful spot anymore as it was just burning at an uncormfortable temp where it wasn't so hot that I needed a cold press and yet enough to be noticable when I thought about it. It didn't even bleed like I thought it should. But, with the heat of the blade, it left a caurtarized inch long scar that reminded me of how close i was to death. I remember smelling my own flesh cooking and not gonna lie, it kinda smelt like pork. But, the smell I was smelling currenlty was not porkish whatsoever. But, instead, it was the scent of burning. I was not able to hear over the sound of the powerdrill the ding of the timer for the toast. I quickly opened the oven and pulled the toast just in time; only a few pieces with slight burnt edges. "Alright. Foods ready!" I say loudly to the household. The power drill stops immediatley and a heavy thud is heard. "We'll get the back in a second. Let's eat first." Isaac said to my brother as they came into view and grabbed plates. "Hey." I said. I nudged my bros arm as he picked up his plate while I helped him heap portions onto it. "There's tea in the fridge." He nodded and finished getting his food and went for the tea. I had already got my self a large glass and was already sitting at the table, eating. The boys soon joined me and we all sat down together discussing the day. "So, I heard you kids had a bad run in with Ms. Handly, how'd that go?" Isaac said as he stuffed another fork of twirled spaghetti into his mouth. I choked on my tea. "That was Ms. Handly!?" I asked and Isaac nodded. "Yep. Randall's crazy blind sister Beth Handly." Isaea spoke up to scold his brother. "She's not crazy. She's senile." Isaac shrugged with a I-guess-so face. "She sure as hell seems crazy to me, in fact.." he wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat his fork down, taking a drink out of his beer can. "Do you kids know who Ms. Handly is-I mean was?" He asked and sat his beer downa dn picking his fork up to point as he spoke. "When Isaea and I were kid kids, like ten or something, Ms. Handly had a bad breakdown." I listened closely as we still may had to see her like Ms. Crane instructed. "See, she used to be the town psychic or palm reader and she was reading a lady's palm one day and just started freaking out. Cussing and hollerin until Randall grabbedd her up from behind and pinned her to the floor until the police arrived. They say she was speaking in tongues at the mental ward. Talking about the next coming, and how Sleepy Hollow was gonna engulfed in the flames of Hell and that all who stood before its gates would be grave danger and blah blah blah. And then, the weird stuff started to happen." His expression changed quickly as he went on. "That girl who's palm she read ended up dying a week later, just like Ms. Handly said she would. We...we used to play with that girl and then all of the sudden, she went missing. No one found her body so we all thought she fell into one of the lakes and didn't come back up. But, that was just the beginning. Soon, Livestock went missing, dogs, cats, even birds. Then, the Black Book Burning incident took place. See, the Black Book Burning took place right infront of your school. The Mayor of the town had ordered for all books containing anything to do with magic, curses or anything devily looking to be brought to the front school yard to be burned. Book after book was tossed into the fire. Huge ones, small ones, ones we knew had nothing to do with magic but kids hated them anyways and threw them into a large barrel to be burned." "Why did the Mayor do this? They're just books." I said. Isaac looked to his brother and leaned in closer to the table. "Now, we're not supposed to tell anyone, but seeing as you guys are caught in this mess too you might as well know. Long time ago, when we were in school, there was this new kid that had just moved into town. he didn't talk much at all and regularly got picked on. I mean, he was the only ten year old wearing glasses AND braces, so he was an eassy target for kids. We didn't talk to him during school. He didn't seem the friendly type and rarely spoke anyway. But, instead of speaking, he was always reading from this giant book full of tabs and side sketches and spooky looking shit until Mr. Randall Handly caught him one day trying to do a spell in the boys bathroom with a cat head and crow feet. Boy, wass covered in fresh cat blood. Now, we knew where all the animals were going. The kid had been picking them off to do spells and rituals with this book that he kept with him all the time. I've got no idea how he was able to carry that damn thing everywhere with him. But, I guess that's how he got the strength to kill the bigger livestock." Trentin spoke up this time. "How big?" Isaac stuffed his face with what I was going to guess was cold spaghetti now before he answered. He finished off hiss beer and got up to get another. We waited anxiously for him to finish the story. He snapped open the beer and started walking back to us. "Well, biggest thing he killed was a Farmer Hommes biggest goat, a prize winner if I may add, which was about...ye and ye." he said and while still standing, measured out approximatley how big the goat was, which from what I could tell, was about three feet tall and beefy. "Boy broke his neck without much of a fight I heard. Don't know how much of a fight it was, but he DID break its neck with his bare hands, I know that much." I swallowed hard and spoke. "Do you think he could've killed that girl?" Isaac went silent, and his face fell a shade paler. He took a heavy swig from his beer and put it down harder than expected on the table. "I'm sure as fuck he did it." Isaea scooted his chair back, I could see he was going to get ready for something as he focused on his brother. He took another drink and again slammed it down. " I bet he fucking did it. I've fucking seen that book and FUCKING BET I KNOW WHAT HE DID!" Isaac quickly rose from the table, his chair falling back harshly. Isaea was up immediatly. "Isaac ca-" "DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! HE FUCKING DID IT AND IF I EVER SEE HIS FACE AGAIN, I SWEAR TO FUCKING CHRIST I'M GONNA KILL'IM!" Isaac stormed out of the room and into the kithen, fetching another beer and then leaving to the basement. From below we could hear a heavy door slam shut, screaming and cussing soon to follow. Isaea, his face drained, sat back down and folded his hands over his face. My brother and I looked to each other and stood to wash off our plates and pack everything away. This wasn't really expected. I figured we were just gonna eat, be scared and then try to go to bed. But, things just escalated so quickly. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. This thought cycled through my head for a good second until the sound of Isae speaking caught my attention. "We weren't ten..." My brother and I stopped what we were doing and looked at him. He had pulled out a cigarette and was smoking it without us heaing the light and cig pack. "We had just turned fourteen, and that girl...that was Isaac's girlfriend...and that kid...he really did kill her and they did find her body... He...doesn't like remembering because when they found her..." he stopped for a long moment. My brother and I stepped out of the kitchen to listen closer as Isaea's tone dropped. "You two are almost adults... so I'm gonna talk to you like adults..." He didn't seem like he wanted to. In fact, he didn't seem pleased with this topic at all. "when...when they found her...her uterus was sitting on a rock beside her as well as her heart, tongue, and her good eye, her boddy lying on a pentagram made of her own blood in the middle of the Western Woods." A chill went dwn my spine as he spoke. "They tried finding the kid but he couldn't be found anywhere. But, he left behind his book...open...he was performing a virgin sacrifice to dark powers in exchange for whatever he wanted...which was a lot...a heart for health... eye for illusions...tongue for spells... and a womb to summon life...it was a really bad mess..." Isaea trailed off and stood from his chair. "You kids go to bed. I'm gonna stay up and keep watch. If you guys see something. Let us know." He then went to the basement and my brother and I went to our seperate sleeping stations. This ALL was a bad fucking mess. And it fucking hurt knowing my family andd I were now caught in the middle of something we didn't even fucking know about until a couple weeks back. Not to mention, my birthday was coming up soon and with all the death talk and the attacks, I highly doubted I was going to celebrate it let alone trick or treat. Yeah. That's right, I still trick or treat. Everyone thinks I'm thirteen anyway so why the fuck not. Dress up, get free candy, and have fun out in the night. But, with the current events, I was sure Halloween was gonna be canceled whcih really fucking bummed me out. I sat on my current bed in the upstairs guest room and thought it over. Would it really bother me if I didn't get to celebrate either? My birthday, meh, but Halloween was MY day. It was the day i got to go out, dress up, and feel alive. Growing up, Halloween was the freeist feeling time of the year for me. I was able to walk about and meet strangers while wearing disguises and getting free shit. And as the older I got the better. I was able to trick or treat on my own and go anywhere I wanted to Trick or Treat. I felt so free and in tune with myself. I had no fear because around every corner was a parent and the world wasn't as bad as it seemed because everyone was laughing and getting scared and all just having a night of fun. It was the most unique holiday I could think of and it fit me better than anything than to go out there and explore. But, this year. I was sure no one would be doing and adventuring on Halloween night, save for the biggest scare of them all, the Headless Fucking Horseman. He was going to ruin this all for me. The more I thought about him the angrier I got. He put my father in the hospital, tore me the fuck up, andd even went after my brother. I clutched my sheets tightly and gritted my teeth. I wasn't going to let that fucker ruin anything else for me. I flew from the bed and to the old Crane desk in the corner, pulling open the drawer to find Ms. Crane's spell book she had given me, along side it in the drawer the various colors of chalk. I wouldn't need it for now but it would have to be utilized one day. I sat the book down on the desk and had to take a second for myself. I was getting far to riled up and wouldn't like myself very much if I kept myself up all night reading. I didn't even know if I hadd school in the morning. I tried recalling when Mr. Richard said when fall beak began. Some time just before my birthday I think, but I was still not sure."I should go to bed anyway. I said and pulled over my head. I noticed my hair clinging to my shirt as I pulled it off had grown longer since I had cut it a few months back. It was almost shoulder length and waves had started to show. "Am I gonna cut it again." i ask myself quietly. I yawned with a shrug. "Might as well grow it out. I miss ponytails." I then stripped the rest of myself down to just my undies, flinging my bra like a rubber band across the room and into the corner where the rest of my clothes lied. I didn't give much of a damn if anyone saw them now. I was to tired to care. I sigh again and run my hands up my sides, chest then neck. My body was so tense. Everything, just everything kept putting me on edge. And my body was letting me know how much stress it was being put under. I rubbed the muscles in my upper chest area to sooth the areas my bra straps would strap over. Just a heads up to you dudes. Wearing bras suck and they can hurt sometime and cause muscle tension in your shoulders and chest. Help your girl out and give her a good shoulder rub. Speaking of which, I massaged above my breasts and up to my neck, bones cracking as I twilt my head and work down on the small knots and then to my shoulders and as far back to my shoulder blades that I could alone. A sudden cold chill ran up my body, making me shiver from the sudden cool. I looked out side and saw the wind had picked up, cold breaths from the outside air slipping into the old room through the cracks of the window, in the reflection i could see myself. I didn't look too bad for all the shit I was going through, but I could easily see my new scars. I looked own to my scabbed up leg. It was still going to take a few more weeks until I could pick that scab off without tearing the new skin, but it made me even more self concious about my legs than I already am. i then looked at my belly. Though small, the scar was noticable and yes it would fade at sometime (most likely when my leg is healed and unscabbed) but it was another ugly mark on my body. I went for my bag nd took out a salve I had been perscribed from my leg and started lathing my tore up leg in I guessed was like neosporin or some triple antibiotic. Sitting on my bed I slathered the entire scab with it, making it almost gooey with medicine and then took out some gauge and wrap bandages I was given as well. I pressed the gauges the the affected area, covering the entire wound and then wrapping it to my leg. This would work perfectly. Best way to heal up a cut fast is drench it in medicine and wrap it up. The body will do the rest. I then put a little on my scar even though it wouldn't due much save for soothing the burning feel, but that's why I was even putting it on in the first. It was still tender to the touch but the meds felt like they were helping. Really wish I had something with lidocaine in it like aloe vera or some shit. I did that with a small grease burns on my hands from cooking. It was like this little burn, small an not bad but really noticable and irritating. I fucking globbed on some aloe vera on just let in soak my hand for hours. I couldn't feel the burn and it healed quicker than my other burns from before. I stood one last time before going to bed to get dressed in something warm. I picked up the night shirt I had been loaned off the desk chair and glanced at myself in the window before putting on the XL shirt. I was so ready to be an adult, but god it was pretty fucking scary too.

But, I would be legal and able to fuck who I wanted so there was also that... Oh my God I'm gonna have to get a new job at some point. I didn't even know what was in the town to work at. I mean, there was the grocery store...But, it's soooo lame...buuut a job is a job and if I didn't find anyting soon I would have no way to buy book bag candy. I pouted at myself in the window. "Whatever." I sighed. I pulled on the shirt and climbed into bed, I had a good bundle of blankets over me to shield me from the chill so getting cozy wasn't too hard. I stretched out and rolled on my belly, humming with how comfy the bed was and nuzzling my pillow. I yawned, my body suddenly feeling heavier. I hadn't realized how tired I was until I lied down and got cozy. I finally felt like I was resting. And the longer I layed there there fuzzier my conciounce grew as the sound of the wind and the faint purr of a bike engine lulled me to sleep.

-(Meanwhile)-

In the dark forest of the Western Woods stood a clearing of dirt, a common ground for spring parties that had been left forgotten after the summer months. It now occupied a horse, three men and a motorcycle. Two of the men sat on the tail gate of a Ford splitting a 12 pack between each other as they watched the third ride through the dirt track. The Hessian had been summoned again. But, not to hunt. His master had been quite upset and made it paramount that he learn how to ride or be damned above ground, which very much did not appeal to him. He was much better now than he was the night prior. Much better. He switched to gears and sped up the bike, dirt flying behind him as he drove for a make shift ramp. Most likely used for four wheelers and dirt bikes. The machine lands with a heavy thud and for a moment he thought he could feel his pulse jump. The two men 'ooohed' at the sound of the thud. "Gotdamnit, it's not a damn quad! It's barely an off road bike." the blue flannel said. "Barely?" The one in red asked. "What'chya mean, isn't that one of them Yamacha bikes or some'n?" Blue flannel shook his head. "No clue. Found that beast in the junk yard stripped down to its frame. No engine. No wheels. Nothin. Built that bitch from the engine up. My cousin did the paint job for thirty bucks, you ought check'em out." Blue took a swig from his can. "What engine did you use?" Red asked. Blue shrugged. "I think it was a Honda." "Honda makes bikes?" Blue nodded. "Yes, sir. Only decent workin engine left in the junk. Other than that, I've just slapped on any big ass bike piece I could find. That there is a fucking Frankencycle." The men drew from their beers, watching the Hessian ramp again. "He's gonna fuckin break it." Blue said to his bud. "Well, he can fix it, can't he. I mean, isn't he german or some shit. I heard the nazis were good as hell with machines. What is that slogan, like, Power of German engineering or someshit?" Blue slapped his knee and sat his beer down. "Gotdamnit, Phil, didn't you see fucking Captain America? Not all germans are nazi, they invaded their own country first." "Wait, so Nazis weren't german?" Red sipped his beer and Blue rolled his eyes. "No, I mean yes, I mean. Fuck Phil! Nazis came from Germany but not all germans are nazi. For fucksake, god damn." Blue snapped open another beer and finished the other off. The two sat in silence...for a second. Red pulled out another beer, cracking it open. Faster the Hessian rode through the dirt. How fast could he go? Soem dirt flew closer to the men, dusting their jeans in brown. "Hey! Take it further out!" Blue shouted. They watched him ride to the far side of the clearing where random dibree, thin trees, large heaps of dirt. Red after taking another drink of his beer, paused in thought and spoke again. "Do you think he's a nazi?" Blue had nearly answered until he found himself wondering the same thing, making him stop in bringing his beer to his lips and having him give it serious thought. "I dunno. Ask him." Blue said gesturing to the said Hessian whom had slowed down and stopped before them. Red shrugged. "Alright." The Hessian turned off the bike and began to dismount it. "Hey!" His attention was called and he directed to the red shirted man. "Are you a Nazi?" If he could, the Hessian would be throwing him a confused look. He had traveled through Nazi in his homeland, but he was not from there. "No." His english sounded just as gruff as his mother tongue. Blue nudged his arm. "See. Not all of them." Blue hopped down from the hood. "So, what'ya need bud?" The Hessian said nothing and stood aside from the bike. Right away Blue could see the some of the bolts had loosened due to such rough handling. "Yep, that's not good. If you keep being so damn hard on this thing, it's gonna fuckin break an our asses aen't gunna keep fixin it for ya. So." He pulled a tool box from the bed of the truck and sat it down, taking a few tools with him. "Alright, I'm sure you can tell what these are, but just to be sure. " He held up each item as he spoke. "Screwdriver, pliers, wrench, and alan wrench. Good luck." He dropped the tools in the Hessian's hands and returned to his spot on the tail gate. "See those bolts." Blue cracked open another beer and drew from it. "Those gotta be tightened. You've got the tools right there to do it. Get at it." The Hessian huffed but this was a good moment to to finally learn how this creature worked.

The night drew on. The Hessian studying the details of the machine, having learned the gears already and handling, it was acceptable to spend the rest of the night examining and managing the bike. This truly interested him but annoyed the hell out of Daredevil to watch his rider give more attention to the metal monster. And for the duration of the time to fix and explore the bike ended up consuming the whole night. Both men well buzzed and ready to head home. The Hessian had finished his maintanance long before hand and Blue had begun packing away the tools and bike. "Alright, Big Guy, Boss is givin' ya two more nights to be a fucking bike master then he wants shit done. Got it?" The Hessian made no sound, but understood. Daredevil was at his rider's side soon and was then mounted. "Alright. See ya tomorrow." Blue said lastly. He climbed into the Ford and was about to close the door. "Oh, Shit wait." He stepped back down with an object in his hand. "Seeing as you don't have your sword on ya anymore, I thought you'd might be able to use this." In his hand he held out a high grade hunting axe, a sheeth on the head with a built in belt loop. Oh this would do. The Hessian took it from him. It had a good weight to it. He slipped off the sheeth and examined the edge. "Well, you just enjoy that." Blue said as a goodbye and climbed back into the truck and taking off. The Hessian looked closely to the blade. The edge was very sharp. But, not like his sword. His sword he began to miss sorely. Each night he could hear it singing to him for its retrieval. It was hard to rest with it not near him, even in Hell. He slipped the sheeth back on and stuffed it into a saddle bag for the moment being. He would attach it to him soon enough. But, for now, the sun had began to rise and home was still a good run away. He snapped the reigns and his steed flew into the ending night and home to the Howling Tree.

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A/N~

Weeeeeell, there you have it. The latest chap in THK, and I gotta say. This thing is like two years old. I'm almost 20 now and I started this shit a loooooong time ago.

So, with that said, we gonna get naughtier up in here. Might not be straight up smut just yet, maybe it will. But, one thing I do know. It's gonna be a good minute from now.

So yeah! Thank you guys for your awesome support and please review. I FEED off of reviews.

-OtakuNinja-chan