A lone nurse worked in the hospital room where Nathaniel lay, checking various vital signs and scribbling out her report on a notepad. She tried not to, but--after hearing who this was and seeing a live television broadcast of the destruction caused in the nearby town--she couldn't help but feeling nervous, and her hands trembled slightly as she worked hastily (wanting to leave the room as soon as she could). But if trouble arose, the big burly security guard sitting in the corner would be able to help her, right? He might be able to stall the beast...for a couple of seconds.

But she was a mother, and she couldn't help but feel compassion for the young man lying before her. His breathing was labored, his heart was beating quite weakly, and it was obvious that he would be in great agony as soon as he awoke. But the best thing she could do for him was what she was doing right now, and so she carried on with her assignment. Just as she finished up, however, his eyes opened, and he turned towards her and weakly stretched out his arm in a beseeching fashion. His voice was heavily laced with pain and little more than a broken whisper. "Kill...me...quickly, before...before it comes back. Aaah!" His face contorted with pain, and his head fell back onto the pillow. "Please..."

The nurse's heart was torn in two...as was her normal decisiveness. Ending his life was a ridiculous notion, and yet...he seemed to be in so much pain. It wasn't just physical pain, either; it was as if his very essence, his very soul, was in the throes of dire agony. She didn't know what had happened to him, but she knew it was nothing previously know to mankind. He had said "before it comes back." Was something controlling his body? What other answer was there? And if that was the case, would it really be compassion to simply let him suffer at its hands? What was she to do?

It didn't take long for her to decide; whatever was happening, this young man understood it infinitely better than she did, and he had requested that she end it. With shaking hands, she began unhooking the life support machines which--at this point--were completely necessary to his continued existance. As she worked, she felt the security guard's eye on her, but he made no move to stop her. Indeed, she almost got the impression that he approved of her actions. After the final machine was disconnecting, she noticed a great peace and calm come over the boy's face, and he mouthed a silent "thank you." The nurse was freely crying at this point...in just a few moments, his suffering would be ended.

Then very adbrutly, the quietness of the room vanished. Strength flowed back into the boy's features, and a great malice twisted his face. Sitting up, he grabbed the front of the nurse's shirt and forced her face directly in front of his. His voice was powerful and full of hatred. "Do you really think that healing a Terran shell is such a hard thing? Your pathetic attempts will come to nothing! I will rise again to execute revenge upon my enemies!" Just as suddenly as it had occured, Nathaniel's face melted back into its previous state of anguish, and he released her and fell back onto the pillows. "I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry..." he gasped out between the tears. So close, so close.

The nurse had been very scared when the boy had grabbed her, and she did not know what to do. She still wanted to help him, but it appeared that whatever demon lied within him, it was going to thwart any attempt at killing it. Even if she had a weapon, the beast would probably arise fully to defend itself in that scenario. What was she to do? She couldn't, wouldn't, let him suffer in this manner, but she knew that very few others would agree with her intended method of helping. And yes, if there was any other way to help, she would've climbed up the highest mount or descended into the lowest depths of the earth to do so, especially now that she really saw what was happening to him. But she knew with a complete certainty that there was no other way.

She was spared further uncertainty, however, when the doctor and a specialized physiciatrist arrived. The doctor was a broad man, and his voice was deep and threatening. "What is going on here? Why are the life support machines unplugged?"

The nurse struggled with an answer for a moment, but the guard in the corner came to her rescue. "The patient unplugged them himself."

The doctor looked doubtful for a moment, but after seeing that Nathaniel seemed to be breathing and such quite sufficiently on his own, he relented.

After assuring the nurse that he would take care of things, he sent her on to another patient; while he began examining the physical health of his patient, the physiciatrist--a small, petite woman--began talking to him. He completely ignored her, however; his gaze was fixed on the security guard (who had abandoned his "post" in the corner and approached within a few feet of the bed). "Help...me...please."

Misunderstanding the direction of his plea, the physiciatrist hurried to assure him, "We will...we will."

Again, he ignored her. "Quickly...kill me, please."

And before the doctor or the physiciatrist could make a move to stop him, the guard--uncaring of any reprecussions--drew his revolver and fired several times at the boy.

While many hide their heads in the sand, some men still understand that steel determination and callousness is sometimes the only way to prevent great tradgedy.