*DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately I still do not own FD, nor any of its characters, so please - Mr Glen Morgan & Mr James Wong - still don't sue me, for I still have no money. But I agree with Kazuha-chan in that DS-point, lol

Okay, I really never wanted to write that one, for it all was meant to be included in my first story, Control, but then I decided, that it was better to put it that way, for my actual theory wouldn't work there. Due to some 'literary' and logical problems, it could be possible that some things have to be changed in retrospect, e.g. some dates, as well as there will be some characters that already should've been dead for a long time, but isn't that what it's all about? (laughs at her sad joke). Further it could last a bit, to upload the first parts, for – though they are already written – I have to wait until I can upload the end of Control. Question of tension, u know? Anyway, I hope to be able to give a more polished structure to this fic.*

Prologue

The lurid master was still furious over the loss of his souls. Incapable of defence, he had to see so much more of them leaving their dark home, through the ages, and he had been given only a few of the light in return. Whatever he did, the light always seemed to be one step ahead and after all these times of humiliation, it was enough; he had to find a way out, a solution for this. The lord would gather his army built of death and decay, terror and desperation would be his weapons. He would find out the secret of light's power. And this time he wouldn't fail to destroy it.

Shakespeare has once said that the world was a stage and all of us only actors. We play there for a while, but we cannot choose our role. It's given to us and we can only try to make the best out of it. No one ever asked us whether we wanted to have life in general, we are just thrown into this world. So why should we have to ask someone for the permission to leave it?

The wind blew through the nightly streets. It was a warm late summer wind, gently scurrying through people's hair and clothes, swelling the curtains behind opened windows, letting them appear like flags flying. In the dark deserted side-alleys it rushed more wildly, throwing around dirty old card boxes and plastic bags filled with garbage, just to return into the streets again, underlining the playful of his actions. The city dwellers appreciated the breeze for it had been quite hot during the last days. Only a few of them noticed the slight fury it was accompanied by.

It was late at night as the telephone rang. The sound of the bell floated through the darkness of a New York apartment. Always joined by new rings, it fought its way up to the single source of light, coming from a candle on a table, hardly lightning up some square metres. The silhouette of a man stood up against the easy chair her sat in. Gradually he turned back from the world of his mind and stretched out a hand to pick up the mobile part of his phone that was buried under a pile of files and magazines. He didn't bother to glance at the blue illuminated display, as he pressed the green button to receive the call.

"Hello?"

There was along silence. He could hear someone breathing. During the last years he had developed a sensitive feel for certain situations and therefore didn't spend one thought on a misdial or some lunatic or pervert. "Tell me", he asked the person on the other end.

"It's back." The young man's voice was calm and cool and only someone who knew him very well would've heard a difference. The man in the New York apartment sighed quietly and closed his eyes for a moment.

The other one snorted. "Groundhog Day, until we do it right." He gave a sad, short laugh, and it took a while before he continued. A click was heard, like a glass being put down on a glass table. "She drowned. Some fucking lake she went to with some friends. Midnight swimming. Fucking stupid idea." The man took a deep breath. "The paramedics said it must have been a cramp or stuff – shit, what the hell do they know?!"

"Who-" the first one began, but he was interrupted.

"She is dead. Liz is dead."

"I'll be with you in twenty minutes, okay?"

"I'm tired, man", the second one sighed. "I'm so tired of it. It's so boring."

"Don't do anything till I'm there okay? Promise me", but the line had already been disconnected.

****

The dark-haired lounged back in his armchair and put down his glass. An opened bottle was standing beside him. It was almost completely filled, maybe somebody would empty it. Sometime. He poured in a bit more of the golden brown liquid and let it circle in the glass, but then put it down again, without having drunk of it. Nobody should think he'd had to give himself Dutch courage. It just had become kind of a habit. Billy was a fanatic for sweets, Tod would do anything for crisps – at least Alex had claimed that recently – and himself and JD were just inseparable, too.

He reached out for the weapon, lying beside him on the table. His dad had bought it so many years ago – after all, all of his friends had one at home, it was just part of a complete household nowadays – and since that time it had lain unused in the upper bookcase, behind the Shakespeare's edition bound in calf. As yet.

A little astonished by the fact that his hand did not shake at all, he released the safety catch of the automatic. But after all there was nothing he had to be afraid of. It would be over so soon. Like snapping one's fingers.

There was no letter or something like that, what should he have written? Mawkishness had never really been his thing and he didn't feel any desire to inform anybody of anything. There was no rage, no regret, no desperation. Nothing.

A soft smile glided across his face. Maybe he would see them. Maybe.

With the left hand he reached for the remote control of the system. The last accord of 'Last resort' had died away and so he turned it off. Silence returned into the huge room. Through the opened windows he heard some birds singing. To a despiser of any romanticism this seemed to be a quite corny scenario. But for the first time in his life he did not care. Finally it did not make a difference what others thought of him, any longer.

Slowly he raised the barrel onto his temple and pressed the trigger.

****

The young man closed the door behind him and put the duplicate key into the pocket of his jacket. "Carter?" He turned one of the lights on and crossed the big loft. His eyes glanced over a silk kimono that was lying on one side of the couch. It was still new but no one would come back to wear it. He swallowed the feelings he had tried to suppress all the way as he had raced though the streets, constantly exceeding the speed limit. "Carter. Hey!!" Alex voice got an impatient undertone.  Something told him to turn the right corner, where he knew there were seats and one had an unbelievable view over the city. Definitely the best place to be when – He touched the young man by the shoulder, but he remained sitting motionless. His head was lying at the backrest of the easy chair, his eyes closed. For a moment Alex looked at him wordless, only his jaw muscles moving as he clenched his teeth. Finally he bet down beside the easy chair to pick up the object that seemed to have slid out of Carter's hand. On the ground a dark stain had been formed. It would be hard to remove. There was more of the same dark liquid on the windows in front of him. But that wasn't the main problem right now. Involuntarily Alex threw a glance at the digital display of the stereo system. 2:59 am. He snorted. What an irony. What an irony. This time Carter really had exaggerated it. His hand brushed against his friend's; it was icy-cold. Feeling the muscles of his legs becoming cramped, he stood up and reached for a blanket, lying folded up on the sofa. He stared at Carter for a few more minutes, before he spread it out over him. Then he turned away and put up the receiver.

*Sweet dreams.*