Disclaimer: I keep getting more and more of my own original characters, but a couple stolen ones will pop up from time to time. See if u can spot them and win… nothing… I'm too poor to afford a prize.
A hooded figure with a long staff walked the dark streets. The black cloak covered it in inky darkness from head to toe. The widely spaces street lamps did little to illuminate the darkness and the figure moved between them like a shadow. It did not want to be seen, and was doing a good job avoiding peering eyes.
Without warning, the silence of the city night was shattered by gunfire. The dark figure looked over towards the sound, hesitated for only a moment, and then leapt fifty feet up to a rooftop. It ran and jumped over a few buildings to where it could get a good look at the battle in the streets below.
Dark eyes surveyed the scene. A couple of the local street gangs were fighting again, it was nothing to concern the cloaked watcher.
On this planet, the local sentient species were cat-like humanoids called Felons. They had human faces and torsos, but cat-like ears and tails. Their hands and feet were also rather paw-like.
The adults were a decent lot, intelligent and quick in a fight. But the young were a different story. They formed tight-knit prides that roamed the cities in nocturnal battles over who-knows-what. Their parents, who lost interest in them when they could leave the home, let it go on so long as they kept it away from the adults. They felt it weeded the weak from the gene pool. Those that survived their chaotic childhood settled down and joined the mainstream society around the age of twenty.
But the hooded figure wasn't interested in local customs, he had learned them when he arrived on the planet months ago. He was about to leave them to battle when he spotted something. An injured Felon, about eighteen years old, was trying to hide in some trash near the edge of the battle zone. He would probably have been safe, he was hidden from street level, but the battle was moving closer to him. He wasn't part of either pride, and was too old to join one, so he would be killed no matter who found him.
Local customs or not, that injured Felon had not done anything to either of those prides. He was not about to be killed by them if the dark watcher had anything to say about it.
He jumped and landed in the center of the battlefield. "This is the only warning I will give. Stop now or I will make you stop, permanently."
All fighting stopped while both sides tried to figure out who would be crazy enough to get involved in a fight between Felon prides. Custom demanded that they put their fight on hold until the intruder was destroyed. They turned from their battle to the newcomer. Several fired their primitive, slugthrower guns, hoping to end it quickly. But the stranger flipped his staff and smacked the bullets back at their owners. None of them were seriously hurt, but all their guns were destroyed.
Seeing that that was a dead end, they rest attacked head-on. The hooded figure was a blur of activity, leaping, kicking and spinning. It was over in seconds. Every one of the Felons were laid out on the pavement, but none were dead. They stood up and ran from the stranger, they wouldn't be back for some time.
His work done, he went to check on the one he had saved, only to be disappointed. The poor guy was dead, a bullet had gone through his trash pile and clear through his chest.
He turned to go, when he heard a rasping gasp. "Please… Help me…"
The injured Felon was reaching towards him. "I can't, it's beyond whatever medicines I can use."
"Please." The youngster struggled to move closer, wincing through the pain. "I'll do anything."
The cloaked person sighed. "There is one thing I could do, but I warn you that you may not like the consequences."
"Anything…"
"If I heal you, you will be stronger that ever before, you might even approach my strength." The hooded figure said slowly. "Until I train you and I can be certain that you will only use that power to help those in trouble you will not be allowed to leave."
"I will serve you to the best of my abilities." The Felon answered quickly.
"No, you must serve everyone to the best of your abilities. You will be bound to always protect the weak and helpless, like I tried to protect you now. Even when it turns out like this."
"What if I try to get away, or I fail your tests?"
"Simple, I'll kill you."
He smiled. "It's not like I really have anything to lose."
"You would be surprised how long someone can be held on the edge of death. I've seen it go on for months, sometimes years, before the victim finally dies."
The Felon swallowed and nodded. "I… accept…"
The cloaked man held up his arms and slid back his sleeves. The Felon's eyes widened when he saw the hands, they were long, with thin fingers that had no claws.
From one wrist grew a long blade that looked like bone. The other hand's palm slid along the edge, making a perfectly clean cut. Purple blood started to drip slowly from the wound. "Are you sure about this? There's no going back. I could just kill you now, I would make it quick."
"I want… to live…" The Felon gasped.
"This will hurt, a lot." The hooded man warned, then let a single drop of blood drip into the gaping wound on the Felon's chest.
The cat-like alien screamed and convulsed on the pavement. He rolled and kicked as his arms and legs spazimed in pain.
The cloaked figure watched in a detached way as the gaping wound on the young alien's chest closed, almost like magic.
When he had finally stopped twitching in pain, he looked at the spot where the hole in his chest used to be. "I don't suppose you can sow too…" Fingering the hole in his shirt.
"Sorry. What's your name, kid?" The hooded figure asked.
"I'm Traitin." He answered.
"Nice to meat you Traitin. My name is Cryos." He pushed back his hood and Traitin almost passed out. There was no way that was a Felon face. "Well, Traitin. Follow me, we have a lot of work ahead of us."