Authoer's Notes: Thanks to those who reveiewed.

Notes to Cat2fat900: I know that it's Stockings and not stalking. It's just that I had been writing Salker so much in that chapter I just got the two confused. Anyway thanks for reviewing and enjoy this chapter.

Notes to sheisbeautiful-sheisnotme: Let me try to answer your question to the best of my abilities. You see Nightmare and The Crimson Hand members aren't really mutants persay. They are very similar, and their gene is much like the X-gene, but there is just one thing that makes them different. You see what makes Nightmare and The Crimson Hands different from mutants is that their powers can only affect them. For example Cyclops can shoot that read beam from his eyes, and Avalanche can create Earth quakes. People that are like The Crimson Hands cannot do anything like that. Nor can they do stuff like run really fast like quicksilver, fly, read minds, heal instantly, teleport, phoase through walls, or things of that nature. Their abilities are a little more confined than mutants. No in Nightmares case he was born with his abilities, like all people of his nature are, he just didn't know about them until his eyes were cut out. Had his eyes not been cut out he would have never known about his powers and he never would have joined The Crimson Hands. I don't know if you wanted to know all that, but I just figured I should tell you. Well, please enjoy this chapter.

Stalker entered the old warehouse where The Crimson Hands were hiding. He hoped that none of them would know where he was, and hoped that no one noticed he was gone.

Luckily for him they were all asleep. They lay on the dusty floor with their weapons held tightly in their grasps; so they could be in use if needed.

Stalker stepped quietly into the room, trying not to wake anyone.

As he moved Wardog came out from behind a nearby corner.

"Where the Hell have you been," he asked his comrade.

Stalker felt like an idiot now. It seemed that he had forgotten that Wardog was immune to fatigue.

His abilities made it so he never had to sleep. He never got tired and he never had to worry about loosing energy. If only Stalker had kept that in mind.

The skull masked killer thought of a lie quickly.

"I just had to satisfy my blood lust," he said holding up his butcher knife, covered with blood.

Actually this was the truth. After talking with Nightmare he spied some up tight jackass on his way back to the hideout.

He spotted the man leaving the dry cleaners late that night. And he could remember his name very well.

As the man exited the store Stalker heard the woman inside say; "I'll see you next time Mr. Kelly."

After spotting him Stalker did what he did best. Stalked.

He followed the man for quite some time, and learned much about him.

Apparently he was the Principle of the Bayeville High School, and was also running for mayor of the city.

Now there is only one candidate for mayor.

Stalker followed him for hours waiting to catch him alone.

When the killer got his wish he had not trouble putting an end to Principle Kelly. It was actually ver simple. Just one thrust to the stomach and the man was doomed.

Stalker then left the man there to bleed to death.

And now he was back at the hideout. It was lucky that he did murder that man. That made it so he technically didn't have to lie to his brothers.

Wardog eyed his friend for a moment, but soon excepted his story.

Stalker breathed a sigh of relief. If his comrades knew that he had gone to warn Nightmare there would have been hell to pay.

Wardog began to head back to his duties. Since he never had to sleep he was normally put on watch as the other Crimson Hands members rested.

As he went back to his post he said, "get some rest. Father plans to begin tonight's hunt within an hour."

Stalker nodded to his friend and sat down with his back leaning on the dusty wall of the warehouse.

The same word kept spinning in his mind. 'Nightmare.'

Stalker's heart always filled with rage every time he thought of that name. But at the same time it caused his heart to sink with sadness.

Nightmare was his friend, his brother. He wished every night that the horrible incident that caused Nightmare to leave had never happened.

At times he had wished that he had killed Nightmare on that fateful day when the cloaked madman had fought his former family.

But also at times, Stalker was happy that he let him go. Although he could never reveal that to his brothers, he had let Nightmare go.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. As if it were a dream.

Flashback: Cavich City

Nightmare stood on the dock, exhausted from the battle that had occurred. His weapons hung limp at his side, stained a bright red from.

His body ached from all the wounds he had received from those he once called his family.

The battle had lasted all night. And it would have been quicker if the police didn't get involved. All they did was prolong the night of death.

So many innocent people were killed because they got in the way. Nightmare didn't kill any innocent lives that night, except for a few cops. His only goal was to protect those that had taken him in. Protect them from The Crimson Hands.

As he stood, trying to recuperate from the long fight he heard a very familiar voice.

"Nightmare, you made it out alive."

Nightmare turned to see Kristen running to him.

At last the young killer could not hold his stance any more. He finally collapsed from exhaustion.

Luckily Kristen caught him before he hit the ground. She helped him stand on his feet.

"We saw the fire in the building," she said, "I thought you were dead after the building collapsed."

Nightmare breathed in long heavy gasps as he spoke. "I barely made it out alive. The fires separated Shamen and me from the others. We both would have died if I wasn't able to pull myself away from him."

"So they were killed," Kristen asked.

Nightmare shook his head in despair. "I'm afraid not. They encountered me again outside. Shamen was with them. I don't know how the hell he got out of there. He should have perished in the flames. There had to have been another way out."

A look of worry spread across Kristen's face. This was very bad. With The Crimson Hands still alive, Nightmare was still in mortal danger as well as her brother and herself.

But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was tending to Nightmare.

"Come on," Kristen said. "Lets get you someplace safe where you can recover."

The two turned away from the dock. It wasn't until they had turned that they saw Stalker standing behind them.

Kristen froze in her tracks.

"Nightmare," Stalker said in anger.

His pitchfork was in his hands and he was prepared to use it in the most violent way possible.

"On your feet," Stalker demanded. "This isn't over yet. I have enough strength for one more battle, and I plan to use the last of it one you."

Nightmare took his hands away from Kristen.

"Get away from here," he instructed.

"No way," Kristen disagreed, "I'm not leaving Nightmare you again."

Nightmare pulled his axe out of its holster.

"Run now," he said more sternly. "If Stalker is here that means the others aren't far away."

Kristen paused for a moment. "But what about you?"

The young Psychopath kept his gaze on Stalker.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Just get yourself to safety now."

Kristen could tell that Nightmare was unsure about his statement. He believed that he might not make it out of this alive.

Still she did as she was told, and ran away.

Stalker too a few steps closer to the cloak young man.

"Are you ready to finish this once and for all," he asked, pointing his pitchfork towards Nightmare's chest.

Nightmare held his axe tightly. However he knew he was too weak to fight anymore.

Slowly he lowered the head of his axe to the ground.

"No," he said, "no I'm not doing this. This has gone on long enough. How much more blood must we shed before we end this?"

Stalker kept his Pitchfork ready.

"All I know is that I have to end this with you dead," he said.

Nightmare picked up his axe, and slid it back in its holster.

"Why," he asked. "Why do you have to kill me in order to end this battle; just because I want to leave The Crimson Hands. Because I want to try and live a new life."

Stalker's hands began to shake.

"Because you betrayed us," he said.

"I did nothing of the kind," Nightmare insisted. "I never told a soul about the things we have done. I never harmed any one of you until you tried to harm the people that cared for me after I was injured. If all human's are cruel as Shamen told us they were, why would they have helped me?"

The skull-masked boy didn't say a word. His hands continued to shake.

Nightmare stood waiting. Nothing was said.

"You can't answer me, can you? After all this time you've hunted me, you can't even think of a reason why."

The pitchfork loosened in Stalker's hands. "You cannot just leave The Crimson Hands. Shamen says no one will except us in the real world."

Nightmare stepped closer to Stalker. He stepped so close that the points on the pitchfork were touching the cloth on his cloak.

"How do you know Shamen hasn't been lying to us," Nightmare asked.

Stalker shook his head. "Shamen wouldn't lye to us."

"How can you be so sure," Nightmare asked again.

The two looked at each other. They did not see each other as enemies now. They saw each other as the brothers they had become for all those years.

This only angered Stalker more. He was torn between the loyalty to The Crimson Hands, and the loyalty to Nightmare.

The pitchfork fell out of the killer's hands. He let out a long groan of rage.

"Why must you make this so hard for me," Stalker asked. "I didn't want to kill you! I thought I had to, but I can't!"

"It is hard for me too," Nightmare said. "But don't make this any worse."

He walked over to Stalker and put his hands on his "Brother's" shoulders.

"Let me go Stalker," Nightmare requested. "Just let me leave. We'll never cross paths again, and we don't have to be enemies any more."

Stalker tried so hard to pull back his emotions.

"I can't do that," he said. "I can't be disloyal to my brothers."

"You won't be," Nightmare reassured. "I am your brother as well. The others will never have to know about this. All I want is my freedom to do as I please."

Nightmare released his grip on Stalker and walked backwards until he was once again standing at the edge of the dock."

"But," the cloaked figure said, "if you must, then kill me right now."

Stalker said nothing again. He looked down towards his pitchfork and then back at Nightmare.

"You wouldn't be able to escape," he said. "The only way you would be able to get away is if The Crimson Hands were not looking for you."

This time, Nightmare was silent.

Slowly Stalker bent down and picked up his pitchfork.

As he did they began to here voices coming towards them.

One was easily recognized as Butcher's voice.

"This way," he said, "we'll get that rat son-of-a-bitch this time."

Stalker looked at Nightmare.

"There is only one way out of this," he said.

Without warning he lunged his pitchfork at Nightmare.

But he did not hit any vital area.

He merely jammed the last point on his pitchfork into Nightmare's shoulder. It wasn't too deep, it didn't cause a very serious injury. All it did was make Nightmare bleed.

The cloaked young man let out s loud groan of pain.

Stalker moved Nightmare slightly so that most of the blood dripped onto the edge of the dock.

Then Stalker whispered, "get out of here. And pray that we don't meet again. For if we do I will have to kill you."

He pulled his pitchfork out of Nightmare's shoulder.

Nightmare looked at Stalker. He nodded to his former brother and fell backwards into the ocean.

Once he landed in the water he swam under the dock so that no one would see him.

Back on top of the dock Stalker stood looking at where Nightmare had fallen.

Soon the other Crimson Hand members came over to him. They had thought he was dead after he had fought Nightmare.

"Stalker," Scarecrow said in surprise. "How did you get here?"

Stalker kept his back to them. "While I was unconscious I saw that Nightmare would come here. I figured I'd greet him when he arrived."

Shamen stepped forward.

"Where is he," he asked, eager to know so he could put Nightmare down for good.

Stalker finally turned back to his brothers. "He's dead."

Shamen cocked his head as if curious.

"I killed him," Stalker lied. 'I stabbed my pitchfork into his neck, and didn't pull it out until he stopped kicking."

An emotion of joy seemed to pass over all killers.

"Where's his body," Shamen asked.

Stalker slid his pitchfork back into its holster. "It fell in the water, and sunk to the bottom. Hopefully it will get eaten up by crabs and minnows. We don't have to worry about him anymore."

Present day

Stalker kept thinking about that night. He thought about it at least two minutes every day.

And he couldn't help but wonder, what if Nightmare was right about Shamen.

His thoughts were interrupted by Shamen's voice.

"Up my children," he said.

Stalker turned and saw their father in the room where the killer's were resting.

Slowly they stirred. However it did not take them long to wake up. It never did.

"We must begin tonight's hunt," Shamen said. "Nightmare and those mutants has already cause us to full behind. We must raise our body count significantly tonight."

Hunter stood to his feet. "What grounds do you have in mind?"

"Now worries," Shamen said. I've heard of an area rich with prey tonight. Strong, healthy, and young."

The dance was coming to a close at the high school. The students continued with their last dance of the evening, and they were trying there best to enjoy every minute of it.

Rogue and Nightmare remained outside. They had danced to a few slow songs, but now Nightmare was talking about the incident with Stalker earlier that evening.

He had to tell Rogue what had happened. There was something the X-Men knew that he didn't.

Rogue's eyes were wide the entire time he spoke.

When he had finished she all she could say was, "Trask is rebuilding the Sentinel?"

"You know what it is," Nightmare asked, "I heard the others mention the name. What were they talking about?"

Rogue took a deep breath. The Sentinel incident was something she didn't want to remember. Now she had to bring that horrible day back into her mind.

"The Sentinel was a robot we fought a long time ago," she said. "It was built specifically to destroy mutants."

She closed her eyes as she pictured the robot again.

"Try to imagine a huge red machine," she said, "with scanners that can detect none human species, built in weapons that could wipe out an entire city block in five minutes, and is almost unstoppable."

"Jesus Christ," was all Nightmare could say.

He then asked Rogue, "how did you defeat it?"

Rogue really did not want to talk about this, but she knew that Nightmare had to know.

"We didn't really win when we fought the machine," she said. "A lot of us were captured."

She turned her head to Nightmare. It was as if he could see the painful memories in her eyes.

"The thing was able to shoot out these strange green blobs. Once they hit their targets they turn solid. What ever is captured in them can't escape."

Her face turned toward the ground and her head sagged.

"Ah was one of the mutants that was captured. The worst part Ah can remember was getting caught in that green stuff. You can still breathe, but as soon as it hardens you can't move. It's like you're made of stone. But you're still aware of everything that's going on around you. And you're just so helpless."

Nightmare listened to these words. He reached his gloved hand to Rogue's face and gently cupped her chin. Then he easily made her face him.

"I won't let that happen to you again," he said.

Not to far away from Rogue and Nightmare, two dark figures hid in the shadows.

Hunter and Butcher watched closely as Nightmare and Rogue talked.

"Well," Butcher said, "isn't this a touching moment?"

Hunter tapped his comrade on the shoulder. "We should let father know about this. With out a doubt Nightmare will surly get involved in our killings."

Within the gymnasium the music had come to an end. The dance was over. The teens didn't want to leave, but they knew they had to soon.

As the teens prepared to depart the door to the gymnasium opened up.

And in walked The Crimson hands.

There was a moment of shock as the students noticed the seven dark figures in the gym.

Kurt, who was over by Amanda, saw the killers and became afraid. If they were here, then something bad was definitely going to happen.

The other X-Men at the dance had the same thought in their heads. Without a doubt someone was going to die tonight.

One of the normal students took a step forward.

"Hey guy, this ain't no costume party," he said, "what the Hell are you doing here."

Shamen did not answer him. He simply looked at Butcher.

Butcher knew exactly what to do.

He took his small knife out of its holster and through it at the boy.

The blade went clean through the air, and stopped in the poor guy's neck. There was no hope for him after that.

The gym was full of screams as The Crimson Hands perused into the crowed of students. The slaughter had begun.

Shamen held his hands to the side as his children started killing teens left and right.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we will be your hosts for the remainder of the evening."

He then grabbed a young woman who was trying to get to the door, and strangled her to death.

The younger X-Men watched in horror as the students of Bayeville High were being butchered like scared sheep.

The whole gym was in chaos. All the students were running towards the nearest exits.

The doors were jammed with people, making it impossible to escape quickly.

Hunter pulled out his pickaxe and just began swinging it at random people. He didn't care who he was killing, he was enjoying himself.

Butcher had already reclaimed his knife and was now using his sledgehammer to break the ribcages of people who passed him by.

Clowny was tackling students and hitting them repetitively with his meat cleaver.

Wardog and Scarecrow were simply catching random people and slamming them against the ground to beat them to death.

And Stalker was impaling people with his pitchfork.

There were already twenty students dead, and others injured. But there was still more to come.

The younger X-Men did what they could to get as many people out as they were able.

The crowed of people made it impossible for them to get to the killers.

Kitty phased people through the gym wall as the newer recruits used their powers to break through the wall to create more exits.

Kurt however was not going to let these killers get away with what they were doing.

He looked over to Stalker as he had some other defenseless person at the end of his pitchfork.

In a flash, Kurt teleported over to Stalker.

He leapt onto the killer and began using all his strength to keep him down.

"I won't let you hurt any more people," the blue elf said angrily.

Sadly Stalker was stronger than the fuzzy mutant.

He lifted Kurt into he air and slammed him on the ground.

He then put the end of his pitchfork onto the elf's neck.

"You can't stop me from hurting more people," he said. "I know you. You're one of those mutants that's keeping Nightmare safe from us. Well, I can promise you that you can't hid him forever."

Stalker was about to stab his pitchfork into Kurt's neck, but he paused.

He looked down at Kurt. His eyes were closed as he waited for the upcoming pain.

For reasons unknown Stalker took his weapon away from Kurt.

Stalker moved away from the fuzzy elf and continued with the other students.

Kurt stood to his feet. He did not try attacking another Crimson Hand member. Instead he began helping other students get out alive.

Outside Rogue and Nightmare ran to the front door of the gym. They remained hidden so that no one would see them. The two seemed to know exactly what was going on.

The last of the students were finally escaping the slaughter inside. As soon as they were out Nightmare and Rogue ran in.

The inside was a very grim scene. There were corpses all over the place. Very where they looked there was a dead body. The smell of death began to linger in the air.

"Oh mah God," Rogue said.

She was so astounded and afraid that she did not notice the figure coming at Nightmare.

Nightmare was tackled by Shamen. As soon as they were on the ground he began to beat the clocked figure senseless.

Shamen's ability gave him strength that was twice as much as any normal man. He also had very quick reflexes, making him a very difficult opponent.

Rogue tried to run to Nightmare's aid, but the other Crimson Hand members surrounded her, pointing their weapons at her.

"Leave him alone," she demanded.

Hunter shook his head. "We cannot."

Rogue could hear Shamen talk to the cloaked boy.

"You think you're tough huh? Let's see how tuff you are."

As he said that Butcher, Clowny, and Wardog went over to Nightmare, and began to help their father beat him.

Hunter kept his eyes on Rogue.

"We warned our father that you were here," he said.

Rogue kept her eyes on Nightmare.

The other killers backed away from his body. It was limp on the ground, but he was alive.

Shamen bent down and began to take his weapons away.

"Tell me Nightmare," he asked, "do you like hide and seek?"

He threw all Nightmare's weapons away from him. "Well, we're going to play a little game."

Hunter then grabbed a hold of Rogue and moved her towards the others.

All of them gathered around Nightmare.

"What's the matter old friend," Scarecrow asked.

Shamen lifted Nightmare to his feet.

Then all the killers began to push Rogue and Nightmare from one killer to the other.

"We're hunting you down tonight," Butcher said.

"Ready or not," Wardog said.

They all began to laugh, except for Stalker.

"You've got twenty seconds before we come for you," Shamen said.

And so they threw Nightmare and Rogue away from them. And the two did the only thing they could do at the time. Run.

"That's right," Shamen said. "Make it fun for us. Run! RUN!"