As he peeked his head out from behind the sun-baked bushes, that were twenty feet from the person that he stumbled upon by pure accident, he couldn't help but wonder if this was his chance at redemption.

The definition that was in any old dictionary would say that the word meant either an act of saving or of being saved from sin, evil or error, or that it was the act of regaining or gaining possession of something in exchange for payment, or that it was an act of redeeming or atoning for a fault or mistake; for him, the definition of his want for redemption was the latter one. Ever since that damn Goblin won one over on him near that dump in September, and then showeed him up in front of his employer a week later, when they were in the White House, he had wanted... no, he had strived for redemption. That damn, four foot, six inch, lean-bodied Goblin should not of gotten two over on him so easily; he should of either sent the fucker to the hospital or destroyed him. He was taller and bigger than that damn Goblin and he was stronger too; he should of either beaten the Goblin back or he should of put him in a body bag but he had shockingly and disgustingly not been able to.

The Goblin had caught him off guard on the first attack, but he should of come back to waste him; he was in his element on the second attack but he had still not come out on top. He had lost that battle and his employer, and his co-workers, had voiced that quite loudly over the last month and seven days.

If the being that was twenty feet from him had been that foul Goblin, he wouldn't of just stood in-wait behind a bunch of dying bushes; he would of rushed out to attack him. He would of made him eat his own toes, then he would of made him watch as he removed his testicles and then fed them to the vultures that were flying overhead. He wasn't budging though; while the being that was in front of him wasn't that Goblin, he was someone that his employer was highly interested in finding. The being, a mid-aged teenager, was doing nothing more but sitting on a rock; it looked like he had a rod and reel in his hands. There was a fishing basket at the base of the rock that had maybe four or five, good-sized, brassy brown or silver-colored fish in it. The being must of been there for a while; his naked, mint-green back had a sweat shine to it and the muscle, that was on his arms, was quivering a little as if he had to put in a fight for some of the fish that he caught.

"Enjoy your last peaceful moment kid," he said after he saw him reel in one of the fish that were in the basket.

He had smiled wickedly all the while he was relaying his find to his employer. Telling him where he was and who he had in front of him. His employer was ecstatic after he told him who he had located; he told him to stay where he was right after he said the rare good job Lynster. Was it pure coincidence that his employer had sent Rourke, Galong, and Nygiti to his location or had his employer been wanting them three to see what he located? Rourke Ibmhun had stationed himself to the far right of the kid while Nygiti Meltin had stationed himself to the kid's far left. Galong Exadhoo was in front of the kid, but he was well-hidden by some overgrown bushes. While he had a feeling that his employer was somewhere around the area, he was still nervous; he had no orders to go by and he didn't know what to do. Should he charge the kid? Take him hostage? Tie him up, beat him up a little, or should he just stay where he was until his employer showed up or until some signal was made? He rolled his shoulders a little at the same time that the kid stood up on the rock. The kid leaped off the rock, then went into the water, quickly all while reeling his rod's line in; for a second, he thought that the kid was getting ready to leave the area, then he noticed that he had something big on his line. He watched in silence as the kid pulled the fishing rod back and as he rolled his line in and then let it go slack; he had to clap a hand to his mouth to suppress the laugh that wanted to come out when a long, large, and brightly silver fish leaped out from the river that the kid was fishing in.

"Oh boy! Oh boy! Come on, stay on the line!" Lhaklar thought excitedly. The fish that was on his line was a Zander and boy was it big. While he had already caught two large fish he did want to catch this one; he thought that it'd look good on his bedroom wall.

His father had taught him when he was living under his roof as a young child that patience was a deep requirement when it came to fishing and that being quiet went in-hand with it very well; in order to catch a fish, you had to have patience and you had to be quiet. Patience to wait for a bite and quietness to not scare the fish away—that was the trick of the hobby that he was currently doing. In the two hours that he was fishing in this part of the Illinger Altrhein, that was just fifty yards from the shield that went around Elchesheim-Illingen, he had been using them two early-taught techniques; he caught three German trouts real quick, then he landed a rather nicely sized Mirror carp, then he caught another German trout. An hour passed before he reeled in a ginormous Northern Pike. The Northern Pike had taken nearly twenty minutes to land; he was forced to take a break after landing that fish. His arms were so tired! He said the spell that sent the two, larger fish home about fifteen minutes later; after the Mirror carp and Northern Pike were sent away, he picked the rod and reel up again. He was having fun. He didn't want to go home just yet.

The Zander that was on the line was the only fish that took his bait after he threw his line back into the water; he did nothing but sit and stare at the river for all of an hour after he resumed fishing. Either the fish decided to move on or they decided that they had had enough of eating for the day. He was probably going to put his stuff away after catching this one. It was a little after two in the afternoon, it was hot, and his arms were shivering from exhaustion; while he wouldn't mind keeping the Mirror carp that he sent back home earlier as a trophy he figured that, if his mother wanted to make that fish a meal for their family, she could. If he caught the Zander that was on his line, he was going to try his best to keep it as a trophy.

The fishing rod that he was using was one of his favorites; he purchased it some years ago with the intent of using it for some in-depth fishing. It was a nice rod and reel; it was well worth the hefty price tag and he had used it a lot. While he had a simple bamboo pole in storage, something had told him to take the old Carbonlite baitcast rod and reel combo out. He checked the line that was in the reel spool, then he checked to see if the rod was up to what he had in mind to use it for, then he grabbed his fishing basket. He and Hazaar might of started out in the same location, but they hadn't stayed together. His brother went off after he made a ground spear shoot out from the ground; he wanted to do some hunting while he wanted to do some fishing.

"M'leg's kept me from my hunts, man," his brother said after they started getting ready for their planned hunting and fishing activities. "I've about cried myself silly thinking about all the game that I've missed out on hunting the last few months."

"Do us all a favor—get it all out of your system, and slowly." he said back.

"Plan on it," his brother responded. The playful punch that he gave him in the arm was only emphasis towards his words.

The area where he decided to go fishing in was near an unnamed road, that had a bridge on it, that crossed the Illinger Altrhein. While he was a little nervous about leaving the protection of the shield that his mother had put up over his and his family's current resident town, he hadn't really left the shield with bad intentions. There were no lakes inside the shield. He would of had to go to a different town to fish and he hadn't had any wish to do that. He wanted to do his fishing near home; he had told himself that the shield was a short run away if any trouble came up and he had also told himself to not worry about any trouble happening. His father and them other people that were in the Rastatter Rheinaue camp hadn't been seen in this area; it was a safe area and it was the only logical place to fish in. He was nervous for all of fifteen minutes after he stepped out from under the shield then he relaxed. He had been fishing for two hours; he had encountered no problems or issues. He was left alone to do a peaceful activity that wouldn't only benefit him but also his entire family. The fish that he caught would keep his family fed for a while; his three sick brothers would get some good fish-meat in them that'd help them get better quicker and he'd be looked at as a sort of hero in the house for his deed of catching so many fish for his family.

He couldn't help but laugh inside about the little friendly rivalry thing that he and his brothers sometimes did as he battled the fish. The hero thing started after they finished their schooling; it was a sort of competition thing that they did among themselves, but they didn't get but so hasty or aggressive with it. If one brother brought back more from his hunt or fishing trip, they wouldn't fret about it. They'd joke and maybe do a mock fight about it, but there were no, full-blown fights drawn out over who brought more home from their outdoorsman activities. They might make fun of what they brought home but it was all done in good-hearted humor. No one got on anyone for a bad hunt, or for something that was brought back that wasn't good enough for the family; even when they were living off the land earlier that year, they made sure to conduct themselves maturely and politely when it came to their hunts.

If Hazaar's hunt was a good one, and if he brought in a big kill, he wouldn't complain or act mopish; he was happy with what he caught. If Hazaar's hunt was a highly successful one, he'd congratulate him, like he always did, and he'd joke around and maybe try to mock-steal the spotlight from him. If Hazaar returned home with nothing, he'd not chide him. He'd give him a pat on the back then say that he'd have a better go the next time he went out to hunt; Hazaar would of done the same with him if he had shown up with nothing in his fish basket. There was no use in putting one down for their not being able to catch anything during their hunt or fishing activity. There was no use in hurting one's feelings or putting one down; it was frustrating enough when they caught nothing from their hunting or fishing activities. No one needed to add more dark clouds to their already heavy disappointment.

When the fish started to run with his line, he began to wonder if his mother's friendship with Mr. Leinart was over; they had sure been yelling at one another and his mother had even threatened to move the family to some other, far-off location that morning during their semi-heated conversation. He didn't know why, but he felt a little saddened over the fact that his mother's friendship with the man might be ending. While he saw the man as his mother's friend, and while he acted friendly towards the man, he had noticed a little feeling that he had been having towards the man. He didn't know if the feeling was purely friend-based, or if he saw the man as a father figure; all he knew was that the feeling was there. While it wasn't a strong feeling, it was a noticeable one that he was confused and curious over.

He had never felt this feeling before towards any of the other men that his mother had befrieded over the years; maybe it was because Mr. Leinart had gone so far out of his way to help his family or, maybe, it was because the man hadn't just dropped them like a hot potato after helping them or, maybe, it was because the man was actually acting like a true friend to his family instead of being one of them I'll-call-or-come-over-when-I-need-something-from-you types that he, his mother, and siblings had befriended or gotten to know over the years.

"Friends fight sometimes," he thought as he reeled the line back in. "It's a natural thing—not everyone gets along all the time."

The fish that was on his line zipped to the left then it jumped out of the water; he reeled the line in then he pulled the rod back a bit before dropping it. The fish wheeled to the right then dove down deep. The rod bowed in the middle in a near perfect U-shape as the fish dove. He struggled to pull the fish up and he struggled to keep his grip on the rod. His arms screamed; they were about through. Sweat poured down his back, and down the sides of his head, as the fish and he did their battle. Right when he was about to give up on the fish, the fish suddenly swam up to the surface; it rolled and twisted, trying to dislodge or spit the hook that was in its mouth out for nearly two minutes before going still. He reeled the fish in then grabbed it by the tail; when he hauled it out of the water, he saw the four, tooth-like protrusions that came out from its mouth. The fish was a bright, grayish-silver color; there was a greenish tone on its back. The fish was around twenty inches long and it was pretty heavy; he carried it to the bank of the river arm slowly then he placed it on the ground beside his fish basket. He sighed in relief afterwards.

"That'll do," he said. His arms seemed to rejoice in that decision. He bent down, grabbed his shirt, then tied it around his waist slowly. He took his shirt off after he got to the location; it was hot and he was half-drenched in sweat at the time.

When the kid started getting ready to leave, he very nearly leaped out from the cover of the sun-baked bushes that he had hid himself behind; it was nearly thirty minutes since he told his employer who he discovered and his employer was nowhere in sight. Rourke had caught his eye once; he saw that he was nervous too. When he glanced over at Nygiti, he noticed that he was dancing in place. Galong had pushed the branches of the bushes that he was behind to the side a few times so he knew that he was also antsy. The fish that the kid had just landed lay in place by the large, round rock for a short minute before disappearing; the basket that had the four or five smaller-sized fish in it disappeared a short second later, as did the fishing pole that the kid was using. When the kid started to walk off, he watched him. Sweat was now making his brown fur become matted; his red, imperial suit was, without a shadow of a doubt, going to the cleaners after this day. It was drenched in sweat and it clung to his body a little too tightly for his comfort. When the kid started going down a worn-down path, that was obviously pretty well used by the humans, he started to follow him. He crept out from the bushes that he hid behind then he stole across the area as silently as he could. The bushes that obscured Rourke started jingling almost at once before going still; he saw gray fur fly as his co-worker walked briskly down the line of bushes that ran almost all the way down the river arm that the kid was fishing in. He heard someone curse behind him then he heard a twig snap; he stopped almost at once when that happened for nearly twenty seconds before slowly inching himself forward.

When he got to the path that the kid had taken he stopped; he inched his head around the bushes that were to his left. New sweat poured from him when he saw that the kid had stopped about ten feet down the path. Had the kid become suspicious of them? Had he been alerted to their presence by that twig being snapped? The kid was standing motionless; it looked like he was looking down at something on the path. Since he was so far from the kid, he couldn't see what the he was looking at.

"Lynster," he heard someone behind him say. He turned around and saw that Nygiti was there. Nygiti's left cloven hoof was up; he was giving him the signal to be silent.

"No, you don't say? I thought it was time to jump out and party like an animal." he thought sarcastically.

Lhaklar stood nearly in the center of the path; the landscape around him had taken on a quiet feeling that he didn't like and the too-warm breeze that was blowing since that early morning had suddenly stopped. Everything around him was quiet and still; no animals sang or went by their business and, for some peculiar reason, it seemed to of dropped a degree or two. He was fine when he started down the path that was worn down by the humans in their trek to the river arm that he had fished in; after noticing the print, he went on alert. The muscles that were in his back, and that were in his arms and legs, were taut; if anything happened, he'd be running and pretty fast in nothing flat. His inner ears were tuned into any sounds that happened. He was looking out from the corners of his eyes at what was around him.

The print wasn't there before he came here, he was pretty sure of that. There were only animal prints on the path when he came down it and they had all looked a little aged; this print looked human, or possibly human, in origin and it looked relatively fresh—as in, either just made or made just a few minutes ago. The pattern of the track was clear; the shoe that made it had a smooth sole. The heel of the shoe was a quarter of an inch in height; the size of the print was about thirteen inches long by four inches wide. Who made this print? It couldn't of been his father; he was pretty sure that his father was in that camp in the Rastatter Rheinaue nature reserve and he was also pretty sure that everyone else that was noted as being in that camp were still in that area. Was a human in the area? Could someone else be in the area?

He stepped by the print; giving it as wide a berth as possible. His every muscle quivered. He turned his head from left to right slowly. When he reached a bend in the path, he took it slowly. He looked behind him for only a second; when he saw that nothing was behind him, he turned his head so that he was looking forward. He went down the path slowly; his every sense was keyed in. He used the lessons that his mother had taught him early-on in how to detect trouble; before he was allowed to go out to hunt on his own, his mother taught him how to use the environment as a tell-on. The environment would tell him if there was trouble a-foot or if it was safe to be in.

"Listen to what's around you. You'll know the signs of things not being right and fast if something's up." he remembered his mother telling him once. "The wind will stop blowing; everything will grow quiet—even the animals, Lhakie. They'll go quiet; go by them, and the environment around you, to stay safe."

There were no birds singing. He heard no animals jumping around in the foliage around him. It was totally quiet. He had heard a twig snap behind him before he noticed the print but it wasn't the twig that caused him to become alarmed.

It was that print. That so human in-design print.

The hum of the shield was close now. He had just two more bends and straight-a-ways to go before reaching it and safety. While he wanted to break out and run to it, he didn't; that was the last thing he wanted to do. Running was a last resort thing; he would be picked up and fast if there was a predator in the area and he would be showing great weakness if he up and ran if there was a sentient, malevolent being in the area. Predators, both animal and of the intelligent, bipedal-type, were well-known for their swiftness and their cunning; he wouldn't of gone far before being knocked off his feet if he started to run. It seemed unfair to him that, all the while he was fishing, he had felt nor seen no signs of trouble coming; that one time of being nervous after leaving the shield was very pale to this. He wasn't nervous right now. He was on alert. As he keyed into the environment around him, he walked on. His eyes swept to the left and right slowly. His muscles flexed and then relaxed only to flex again on their own accord.

As he went along, he found himself growing angry with himself; it wasn't like him to disobey his mother. It wasn't like him to be this adventuresome or brazen. There were maybe a handful of times where he was like this—where he left the safety of some protected area that his mother had set down for him and his brothers. He was the type of being that obeyed his mother's every word and command; he didn't just go out and do something without worrying about the consequences. That time he left the shield, when they were living in Wyoming, was a good example of his being too adventuresome; it was usually Bile who went out and disobeyed their mother. It was usually he that was the over-adventuresome one. Not he—not LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit. He was usually a mature and confident being; he could get into them over-adventuresome activities sometimes but he usually kept his head on when he did them. He hadn't kept his head on straight in his decision of leaving the shield that was around Elchesheim-Illingen; he decided to leave the shield because he didn't want to go to some other town that had lakes or rivers under its shield.

He went around the first bend, then he went down the short straight-away that came off the first one, then he took the second bend slowly. He was feeling a little better when the brakes, that were in his legs, suddenly pulled. He was on the second straight-a-way now; the one that ran into the shield that was around the town that he and his family lived in. He was just a few feet from being under the protective dome that his mother had put up over the planet's communities sometime after he was born but he found himself unable to move a step forward. He became paralyzed at the same time that a sense of confusion rolled over him; he blinked his eyes twice before closing them for a few seconds. He re-opened his eyes after them few seconds ended.

"No way! Bile's at home... He's sick with the flu. He can't be out here, he—"

The person that was standing in the middle of the path, about thirty feet from him, looked like his older brother but he also didn't look like his brother. He was tall, about two inches taller than Bile, and his body was colored differently and his ears were longer. The left side of the person's head and body was a golden-yellow color while the other side of the person's head and body was a dark blue color; the ears, that stuck out from the sides of the person's head, went the entire length of his shoulders. They were a golden color; there were several, black, Tiger-like stripes on them. The eyes that were in the person's face were also not Bile's. Bile had glowing, yellow-green eyes; this person had simple, glowing golden-yellow eyes that had tiny, black pupils in their centers.

His vision grew blurry for a second; he blinked once, then held his eyes shut for a second or two, before re-opening them. A sound akin to a scream and a moan escaped him almost at once; with his vision clear, he could now tell that he was in some dire trouble. The person that was in front of him, right smack in the middle of the path, about thirty feet from him, wasn't only shirtless but a very dangerous man. He had tried to kill him and Bile when they were small babies and he had actually succeeded in killing his mother once. He had swore him an enemy right after he was born, which was very unfair, since he did nothing to deserve such a title.

While keeping the man that was his mother's and older brother's biological father in his sights, he slowly backed away. The man stood his ground; he didn't move an inch, which he found strange. When he was near a few, tall trees, he turned then fled into the forest. It seemed that that was what the man was waiting for because here he came. He heard him coming for him.

The man made the foliage snap; there were crashings behind him and he heard two or three thuds as if something heavy had fallen to the ground. The man that was pursuing him wasn't making a sound. He wasn't breathing hard or abnormally; he was breathing normally, and he wasn't saying anything as he crashed into the foliage that was around him. He ran as fast as he could; he tried to run a long circle around the path to the shield that was around the town that his family were in. When he jumped over a fallen log, he felt a burning sensation on the back of his shoulders, right below his neck. He didn't bother looking back and, since he could feel his shoulder bleeding, he didn't bother reaching his hand back to see if he was bleeding or not. The man that was pursuing him was close; he was practically on his tail and he had just swiped one of his hands at him.

"Leave the shield to go fishing then find yourself being chased like a fuckin' rabbit, how nice is that?" his frantic mind asked away.

Another swipe happened. He felt another burning sensation, on the small of his back this time. It almost seemed like he was inching away from the man. Outrunning him. Out-distancing him.

Earlier that year, when he was living under his father's roof, he had several books in his room. They had all come from his father's library; he snuck in reads at any chance that he had gotten. He decided to keep the books after his mother told him to put some of his things in one of his duffel bags in January. One of the books that he took from his father was on training one's self on how to run; how to train the legs, how to get them to work, how one who had grown tall too fast could run fast without having to wait until his legs became untangled. He was doing a lot of running the last couple of months. He was training himself and his legs; while he wished that this wasn't happening, he was happy with the chance to finally see if all his training was successful.

Another swipe happened. He felt his pursuer's fingernails prick his back, but he didn't feel any burning sensations. All he felt was the slight tug of his shirt being yanked from his waist. He added a burst of speed at the same time that a whoosh of air fell over his right shoulder; he felt blood course down from his shoulder, and from the wounds that were on his back, but he didn't stop. The hum of the shield was close now; when he ran a turn, he suddenly caught the sight of the pink shield that was his safety line. The forest cleared out around him right when he saw the shield. He glanced to the left for only a second and couldn't really believe what he was seeing.

He looked to be, at least, a half dozen feet in front of the man that was his mother's and older brother's father. He was running in front of the man... he was outdistancing him, and his lungs and body seemed to be doing just fine. Behind him, he heard the pained whistle of one who had just gotten through having a hard run. It sounded like his pursuer was at his limit, which he found hilarious. Master Vile had set a track record in school in his youth; a track record that stood for thousands of years before being broke by his own son. Had the man grown weak, or had age caught up with him?

"Getting slow in your old age eh?" he called back to his pursuer. "Maybe y'should drop off the snacks for a while, it'll help ya in your old aiii—"

The hole that he stepped in was a deep one. His ankle screamed when he stepped in it; while he didn't scream out in pain after stepping in the hole, he did when he landed on his funny bone. Master Vile, his pursuer for only the Gods knew how long in this now post-panic stricken run, ran into him like a sack of potatoes. Master Vile's hands ripped him up from the ground then they threw him around and then back towards the forest that they had just come from. His chin started singing after it struck one of the trunks of the trees; he tried to rebound and run again but it was useless—his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken. He couldn't run anymore. He had just turned around to throw an energy attack at the man that pursued him through the forest when a fist sailed home into his gut; he doubled over almost at once. While the fight and the terror were still there, he couldn't do anything. He fought for breath and he fought to stay on his feet.

"Lynster!" Master Vile yelled. "Lh-Lh-Lynster! Rourke! Galong! N-Nygiti!"

That was all that he could say; his lungs screamed for air and his body screamed for a rest. He couldn't believe how fast and how far he had run and he still couldn't believe that he hadn't been able to catch the brat that was in front of him before now! He had planned to toy with the kid. Let him run a little race, let him run in front of him for a little while, before catching and then breaking his body and spirit. He had expected for the race to be a short one. He had expected to run the kid down in nothing flat but, instead, the kid had run him for a race and he had stayed ahead of him by a few feet. He had thought that the kid that was in front of him, his daughter's secondborn son, who was also his uncle's firstborn son, a slow runner; he had seen the track meets that Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic had kept on file of this kid running—he ran slow. He had grown too tall too fast for speed, so he couldn't run like he could... or so he had thought. Once this kid saw him, he reacted. He bade his time until the moment where the race started... only the race hadn't been what he had expected. That run had not been the short one that he had expected it to be at all.

He swung his fist at the kid's head when the kid started to stand up straight; the gash, that was on the side of the head that he had punched, opened up. Blood pooled out from the wound quickly. The gash that was on the right side of the kid's head didn't look very new; it was around three inches long and the flesh—prior to his swinging his fist—was closed over the wound. The kid flopped to his side then tried to crawl away. He swung his leg back then swung it out with such force that the kid flew a foot off the ground; the kid grabbed at his groin then turned around to look at him. He held one of his hands up as if to ward him off. He barked a pained laugh at the kid then kicked him again.

He had just gotten through speaking with his uncle and the three new-comers at that Rastatter Rheinaue camp when his communicator went off; Lynster was on the other end and he was talking in a very low whisper. He wasn't able to understand him at first because of that whisper and he was about to voice that when Lynster started talking a little louder. He came close to doing a cartwheel when he heard that Lynster had located the kid and when he heard that the kid wasn't inside the shielded part of the country. He would of yelled for joy had he not of still been near his uncle's camp. He formulated a plan right after being told where the kid was; he called Rourke, Galong, and Nygiti, then he told them to get to the area, then he teleported to the area. He stomped his foot down hard enough to make a good print on the path that led away from the river-arm that the kid was said to be fishing at then he positioned himself in front of the shield. He removed his breast-plate, then his robe, while he was waiting for the kid to show up, then he stood still. The rest of what happened hadn't really gone well. He had nearly lost the kid.

His grandfather's, that Trob-guy's, and his great-grandfather's arrivals to the planet had created so much havoc with his schedule that he hadn't been able to sleep for nearly a week; the weather on his part of the planet was crazy and he was having a time in keeping up with it. Tornadic activity in the central and western states of North America had increased after his uncle's crazy entrance to the planet; five hurricanes had laid waste to the Atlantic islands, and to the eastern states of North America; and many small to medium-range tremors had been recorded around the volcanoes that were located in North America's national parks. Mexico City had been calling his name for nearly two weeks now; he had spent so much time there that he dreamt it in his sleep. Mexico City had, apparently, been built over a lake that was drained some thousands of years ago, by the Spaniards. Over the years, it had fallen into disarray, but the humans had managed to keep it livable... or, so he and the people that lived there had thought.

His grandfather's arrival had made the area unstable; that Trob-guy's arrival had made the area even more unstable; while his great-grandfather's arrival had been the straw that broke the camel's back. The whole city was now a complete disaster zone; the ground had surrendered... it collapsed and it took the whole city, and its denizens, with it. Buildings lay in ruin; wood, and pieces of concrete, lay everywhere; people who were still trapped under the fallen buildings were still begging for help. He had dispatched a thousand of his troops to the area to get the survivors out of their trapped places and to get the area cleared of debris about two hours after the damage was done. His troops were still working on the area and the casualties were still climbing. There was over a billion dollars of damages done to the city and there were around five to ten thousand dead and the area was still unstable. Two hundred of his troops had actually been swallowed up by a sinkhole yesterday; another sinkhole had swallowed around a hundred civilians an hour later. Looting was happening and so was social unrest.

"Blaming that on us, Lad?" his great-grandfather asked him, after he relayed all of what he had experienced on the other side of the planet.

"In a way, yes." he said back. He turned to look at his uncle before going on. "It all started after this fuckwad came here. If he hadn't of entered the planet so violently and so illegally—"

"Illegally? What spaceautic book have you been reading? There's no rule or law saying that one can't drive a ship into a planet at over a hundred thousand miles an hour." his uncle said. "It's recommended that a ship not be flown into a planet at that speed, it's not against any laws though."

"Your crazy entrance started all of this shit with the weather!" he responded a little too loudly. "Monsoon's are happening in places where rain only happens once or twice a year; it's snowing in places that normally don't see any snow; it's hot in places that normally don't get over sixty degrees; it's cold in places where it's normally over eighty degrees. Water sources in certain places are drying up; tropic-formed storms have grown extremely powerful... not to mention that this planet's tropic season storms—meaning the hurricanes—have been extremely long-lived... I can go on and on about what's going on on this planet thanks to you and your crazy entrance."

"And who's at fault for my "crazy" entrance to this planet of yours? Me or you; if I recall correctly, you kept valuable information on my sons' whereabouts to yourself." his uncle said a bit too calmly for his liking. "You ask me, I had all right in my entrance to this planet."

"You had no right!"

Nothing of what he said had gotten through to them; all of them had seen their entrances to his planet as rightly done. After he saw that they weren't listening to him, he demanded that they leave his planet. They refused, which pissed him off; as owner and conqueror of the planet, he had all right of demanding one to leave and he also had all right in throwing one out. He was about to voice that when his grandmother came up. Frustration, that led to being pissed off, had been turned into full-blown embarrassment when she started fussing over him; she wrapped him up in a bone-crunching hug, then she ran her hands over him to see if he was "healthy", then she started throwing pieces of caramel at him, then she turned on the charm after she was told about his little demand.

She had used their bond against him. She had used that womanly and that grandmother-grandson charm/bond of hers to her advantage in getting him to take back what he had said. He left the area feeling very hot around the face; he wasn't allowed to check-in on his younger brother, who he knew was injured last week by Triskull's probable son. His frustrations were so great that he just didn't want to stick around to see him and then address the seriousness of his injuries. He had just walked out of the area when his communicator went off.

"Lllll-yyyyn-ster!" he roared after taking in enough air to fill more than one set of lungs. He was sucking in air to yell the names of his other staff members when they—all of them—suddenly ran out from the forest.

When his employer pointed at the kid, who was nearly curled up in a ball at his feet, he grew concerned; no command or order or insult was spoken. His employer, who's chest was heaving up and down in a rather alarming way, had just gestured a command out to them; this wasn't like his employer. His employer usually barked his orders out strongly and verbally. Nygiti and Rourke pounced at the kid; they hauled him to his feet then they held him tight while he and Galong stood to the side. The kid, who had a badly bleeding cut to the right side of his head, and who's backside was bleeding moderately, gave three or four half-hearted lunges before going still... or stillish, since all he was doing was standing in place, shivering.

They stood there for a while; either watching the kid bleed and shiver or watching their employer gasp in breath after breath. Lynster grew concerned after the twenty minute mark. When he went towards his employer, he found himself reeling backwards after a rather loud beam of yellow energy was shot at him. Master Vile bounced back to his former self at the thirty minute mark; he stood tall then started forward, towards Lhaklar, who was now shying back. Lhaklar had just tried to turn around when he felt a stinging sensation on his chest; he looked down and, to his great shock, saw that the man, who had fathered his mother and older brother, had his left index finger pressed against him. The long, dark blue fingernail, that was on the end of that left index finger, was pressed into his chest. It was drawing blood as its owner swept it across his chest.

"One of the three disgusting brats that my daughter wrongly birthed in my midst," Master Vile said menacingly. "Too bad I don't have all three of you. Would of been quite a show."

"You rat!" Lhaklar said, trying to be strong and brave. His voice cracked at the last second; his shivering grew worse, and he began to sweat quite profusely.

"How is it that my daughter managed to keep you and your two brothers is beyond me—there's nothing special to any of you." Master Vile said as he ripped his fingernail out from Lhaklar's chest. "All peasant-born—nothing special. Bad blood, badly bred, and—"

"You're badly bred!" Lhaklar spat in Master Vile's face. Master Vile did nothing more than smile at him.

"You've been allowed to live too long boy. It's way past time for you to meet your destiny in—"

He automatically started thinking back to the dream that he had that morning in his terror; the scientist that he wasn't able to see much of in his dream suddenly changed in appearance. He went from looking like a fat, mid-sized human into looking like a Master Vile-like creature that had angry, beet-red eyes and horny protrusions on his head. He envisioned with his mind's eye this morbid scientist-thing putting him through all sorts of horribly painful tests—wires were attached to nearly every part of his body; he was forced to demonstrate his powers while being electrocuted, pinched, cut, or subjected to either freezing or hot temperatures; and he was forced to go hours without sleep just to see if his powers had grown weaker or stronger... He came very close to forgetting the situation that he was in; thanks to his terror, he came very close to forgetting the chase that he did in trying to get away from Master Vile. He came close to forgetting the post-chase abuse that he went through after that chase ended and he also came close to forgetting about the two men that had him by the arms and, most importantly, he came very close to forgetting about his powers.

He thought about what would happen after he was gone. About how his mother would react to having just four sons instead of five and about how his brothers would feel knowing that he was no longer around to bug them crazy. Before the realization of his power abilities came to him, he thought about how vulnerable he was; he was caught, his arms were being held, and the only weapon that he had on him was a pocketknife that was in his left-side pants pocket. He just stood there, shivering and sweating and thinking his fear-inspired thoughts, before the realization of his still being able to use his powers came to him. When he realized his mistake, thirty minutes had passed; his chest was cut, and the gash that was on the right side of his head, which healed an inch and a quarter in the last month, was re-opened. When he realized what he could do with his powers, he grew angry and on the defensive; he attacked his attackers almost at once.

He used his Telekentic powers to lift Master Vile up off the ground then, while keeping the palm of his hand facing the man, he shoved him back as hard as he could. Master Vile went sailing ten feet before landing on a fallen tree. Hard! With Master Vile temporarily out of the way, he turned his attention towards the two men that had him by the arms. He used the same ability to shove them back then he turned his attention towards the Claydo and the lizard-like man that were now rushing at him. Even while hobbling around, favoring his either badly sprained or broken right ankle, he had the advantage over them; he sent an electric current at them then he sent a rolling, purple-colored fireball at them that sent them reeling back.

He turned his attention towards Master Vile next. The man had recovered and was coming at him furiously; he sent a barrage of red and white fireballs and energy currents at him then he made the ground under his feet ripple and split. The man stumbled twice, he was sent flying back once, then he fell to the ground twice, before starting to attack him with his own powers. At the same time that he and the man that was technically his grandfather were engaged in a heated power-battle, a news van with the AO12 News slogan on the sides stopped. A man and a woman got out of the van quickly. The man grabbed a camera from the back of the van quickly then started filming what was going on outside of the shield that was around Elchesheim-Illingen. The woman that was with the man stood to the side; with the exception of her eyes, which spoke volumes on what she was seeing, and on what was going on, she was silent.

"You will be dead by the hour's ending, boy!" Master Vile, the man who he would never regard as his grandfather, roared as he sent a beam of purple energy at him.

"We'll see about that!" he yelled back. He grabbed the energy beam then returned it to its maker, who leaped out of the way to avoid it.

He made steam rise up from the ground, then he made the ground where the man was standing sway. When the man rushed at him, he made portions of the ground where he was at rise and then fall. He used his Acidic powers to make a wave of acid fly towards the man when the man continued to battle him. When the man started running towards him again, he made purple acid balls fly towards him. He cast purple and black energy beams and waves at the man then he tried to grab the man with his Telekinetic powers when he continued coming towards him. He had just grabbed the man with his Telekinetic powers when something happened to make him fall to his knees.

While he didn't know what happened, the two people that were recording what was going on did; the lizardman, Galong Exadhoo, had picked up a piece of wood from the ground nearby. The man had rushed forward then had swung the piece of wood at his head. The piece of wood that Galong had used on him made the gash that was on the right of his head rip open more; he felt more blood pour out from the wound as he collapsed to the ground. He spat blood when his body struck the ground then his vision became blurry afterwards. He was just blinking his eyes when something strong wrapped around his throat. He felt himself being picked up but he found himself unable to fight or even struggle to get free. The blow that Galong Exadhoo had given him had put him in a daze; he couldn't do a thing to defend himself and he couldn't get away from his attackers.

"You are not all that you think you are, Runt!" Master Vile said as he swung his fist into Lhaklar's stomach. "You are nothing! You are weak! Not worth the life you were given!" he threw Lhaklar towards Galong and Nygiti, who caught and then held him. Master Vile shot his hand forward; a sheet of red-hot energy wrapped around Lhaklar. Lhaklar screamed in agony for all of two minutes before the attack was dropped. "You should never of been born! That father of yours should never of coupled with my daughter! You're existence is nothing more than a pathetic joke!"

Cäcilia Maus looked away almost at once while her cameraman, Emmerich Heidenreich, looked over to the side. Emmerich Heidenreich kept the camera steady, but he had no heart left in doing anything else; like his co-worker, he couldn't stomach what was going on. Neither of them had expected to come upon the fight and neither of them had known that they'd be witnessing Master Vile beat the second son of their planet's heroine to a pulp. In the back of the van was the technician, Rupert Haupt; he was on the phone with the owner of their network. He had seen a little under half of the fight before deciding to duck back into the relatively safe van that was now shielding him from what was going on.

The first thing that ran through their heads, after they came upon the fight, was about how good a story the fight would make for their network. They weren't thinking that now. Now, they just wanted to get out of the area. Cäcilia Maus was cheering Lhaklar on secretly; he looked so powerful out there... Emmerich Heidenreich had seen the lizardman with the piece of wood first; he came close to toppling the camera over when he saw the guy swing the piece of wood at Lhaklar then he screamed in alarm after the piece of wood collided with Lhaklar's head. Lhaklar, who seemed so in-control, and who seemed so strong in the fight, was felled quickly afterwards and now he was being pulverized by the very man that he was fighting.

"What's going on out there? Rupert? Rupert? Hello? Anyone in the van?" Nefen Foerstner, the owner of their news agency, was saying from Rupert Haupt's cellular phone.

Lhaklar's body jerked back with each punch that Master Vile landed on him; Master Vile had electrocuted him three times before deciding to just attack him with his fists. He spat blood twice; while he didn't beg for the man to leave him alone, he did wish for him to. His head was throbbing almost as badly as his ribs and groin were. Master Vile's fists showed no prejudice on his body; they caught everything. Master Vile's naked, half-flesh/half-skeletal chest was slick with sweat and it was heaving up and down, but not as badly as it was after they finished their race through the forest. The man's mouth was turned up in a terrible smile; his blue-tinted glasses were missing so he had a good view of the too-pleased look that was in the his eyes.

The two men that were holding his arms pulled him back and then up after their employer's fists made him drop or fall back; his arms were lacking two layers of skin where they had him and they were plenty sore. When he tried to kick his leg up, he found himself screaming in agony—Master Vile grabbed the leg that he kicked up then he twisted it to the side. He didn't know what was broke in that leg, but he knew that something was broken and pretty badly. Master Vile had just swung his fist into his face when he felt the grip of the two men that were holding him release; he fell to the ground in a heap. He yelled out in pain when his weight fell on his newly broken leg then he tried to roll over. Master Vile kicked him in the ribs twice before stepping back. The sick smile that was on his face was still there, as was the too-pleased look that was in his eyes.

"See what I mean?" Master Vile cackled. "Anyone of good breeding wouldn't of broke so quickly. The body that you harbor is weak. Easily broken. Nothing but mush."

"I'm... I'm juh-ust a k-kid." Lhaklar said hoarsely.

"No excuse," Master Vile said. He signaled for Nygiti to pick Lhaklar up, which he did. "Your excuses won't matter anyways. No one to hear them and no one to care. You're done. Washed up; it's too bad that your father isn't here. I'd of enjoyed seeing him not being able to help you. He thinks nothing special of you. You're his son and that is all. He's ashamed of you and of them brat-brothers of yours."

"Y-y-y-you lie!" Lhaklar gasped. "My dad loves me and my brothers—that's why he's here!"

"Just paternal feelings. That's all he harbors towards you three freaks." Master Vile said as he took a long knife out of his pants. "Now, out of the pure darkness of my heart, I ask if there are any last words before I severe your life-strands and make your puny existence become null and void?"

At the same time that he was wishing that he had stayed home, his life flashed in front of his eyes. He saw himself being born; being held in his mother's, and then his father's, arms. He saw himself being cared for by his parents. He saw himself being disciplined for things that he had done by his parents then he saw himself being taken to Earth with his siblings. He saw his school years. He remembered the jokes that he and Bile made when they were in private when they were students at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. He remembered sitting in the way back of the visitor bleachers cheering Bile on as he ran his track meets and he remembered going up to congratulate him after he won each of the meets that he had participated in. He remembered cheering Bile on when he had his wrestling meets. He remembered and he saw himself warning his brother to be careful before each of them meets. All of this either flashed in front of his eyes or he remembered it as the silver blade of the long knife was pulled back.

This was below fair; he didn't deserve this and he didn't want this but what could he do? He was beaten. His opponent had beaten him down and he now had his life in his hands; there was no use in begging for mercy. His begging would fall on deaf ears. His attacker had marked him for death long before he was born and now he had him. His goose was cooked. He was a goner. He wished that his mother was there; he wished that he could see her one last time. He wished that he could speak his love of her one final time and he wished that he could hear her speak to him once more before he went to where the dead ones went.

His body shook violently as he shook his head; the knife that was pulled back was stationary for only a second before pistoning forward. He clamped his eyes shut; it was a coward's way out by closing one's eyes when death either stares them in the face or is coming for them and he knew it, but he didn't want to see what was about to happen. He didn't want to see the knife plunge into him. He didn't want to see blood pool around the handle of the blade and he didn't want to see the further pleasure that his attacker would have in knowing that he had finally taken him out. One instance of pain, he told himself. He'd feel pain, then he'd feel all floaty, then he'd just black-out and die. He had just convinced himself of this when he heard a scream. He felt something smack into him then he felt himself falling backwards. Something heavy fell on him before he could open his eyes. The chance of opening his eyes, to take in what was going on around him, was never allowed to him. Something slammed home in his gut and groin with such force that he lost consciousness.