His heart shuddered to a halt as the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. He could feel warm breath playing upon them, tickling them with every exhalation of air. Something cold brushed his throat. It felt like metal. Paralysed by fear he couldn't move. He had never felt so afraid. A new terror seized him as he felt the metal move. It seemed to float in front of his eyes as if suspended on an invisible wire. The instrument of his death was before him. He could see drops of blood slide effortlessly down its shining surface. His eyes followed the drops as they winded a journey down an imaginary path. They were descending a silver mountain, a knife the size of a machete, a weapon he knew had been used to kill the person lying on the floor beyond him, a body without a head, the reflection of the head silhouetted in the blade, shining in the eyes of his captor.

His eyes slid from the blade to the floor, to the corner. He could see the lifeless eyes staring at him, tilted upwards, praying for mercy, begging for forgiveness, trying to see something above them, a shadow stretching across the ceiling in the fading light of the day. They had seen it. They had looked up, wondering, never thinking that that shadow might swoop down and take their life as quickly as they could draw breath. He could see the confusion still shining in those dead eyes, a question answered with death, an answer never to fall upon the mind of the one who had asked it, a permanent silence filling the void that had once been a mind.

They would think no more.

They would never hear the whimpers of the girl they had been left in front of. Her clothes stained with splashes of the ruby liquid spattering the floor. She must have been close, frighteningly close when death had forced life from its body. He couldn't imagine how close it could have been, it was too terrible to think of. More terrible than the thought that his life might soon come to an end. He could see the blade slowly moving downwards, back to its original position. Time seemed to stand still as its tip pierced his neck. Its ice cold surface seemed red hot as it rested in one place, unmoving.

He grimaced against the pain, showing weakness would make things worse. It was something he had learnt a long time ago, a time when Lily had attacked him, one of her more ferocious attacks. Every sign he gave that she had hurt him drove her on, her strikes becoming more frenzied, she was feeding off his pain, enjoying it. The more she hurt him the more he had struggled to hide his pain, it wasn't until he had lost consciousness that she had left him alone. It had seemed like an eternity before he'd been able to leave the spot he had fallen. His parents had found him sitting on the floor of his bedroom hours later. Lily had been nowhere to be seen, she had never come back home.

The tip of the blade being pressed deeper into his throat wakened him to the present, his gritted teeth ground together as he stifled any sound that might give away his pain. It seemed that that had been enough to show his discomfort, the blade was pressed deeper still. This time he couldn't stop it. His lungs drew in a sharp intake of breath.

He could feel his attacker smile against his neck at his display of pain. The blade withdrew a little, its journey forcing a trickle of blood to the surface. It felt hot against the cold surface of the metal. He remained still as the blade was pulled out a little more, slowly, carefully. Each inch that was released allowed more blood to seep downwards, tickling him as it crawled down his neck. It was almost free, he could feel it. Finally its point had left his throat but something told him that it wasn't over, that there was more to come. It had only been the first stage, a test, he knew that now. His fear returned, fear of the unknown, fear of what might happen.

It was justified, he soon found out.

That glove encased hand rose, its bloodied tool of death stood proud against the remaining light shining through the window. Its surface seemed to glow in anticipation of dispelling its next victim. He looked at it, his eyes wide. Eyes shone back at him from the silver surface, they were his eyes. He could see the fear he felt written on every line of his face. The trickle of blood stood out like a scar against his pale flesh.

His eyes sliced along the blade. It revealed his attacker, a face grotesque in its reality. A smile thin, twisted, gave light to the image that stared back at him. There was something about that face. It had a resemblance to one he had seen before. Every fibre in his body recoiled in shock, it couldn't be true. Hidden behind a veil of hair that obscured the visage peering at him he could see eyes that rivalled his own in colour. There was a hardness to them that darkened them beyond his perception. Something shone in them beyond that, running deeper than any colour, burning into his soul as he stared at them.

Evil.

It was there. Plainer than any other emotion he could detect. In that evil he could see no mercy. He could see a killer, a killer who felt nothing towards those he had felled in the prime of their lives, a killer who would take his life without a thought. Only in another pair of eyes had he seen such a depth of malevolence.

Those eyes were cut off from his vision. The hand had drawn the blade back. Its surface arched, its flat sides facing away from him. He could see its brutal edge. The arm was outstretched, ready to sweep forwards with its shining instrument. His head would join that which lay on the floor in front of him. His eyes would look upon his daughter, their light gone forever.

It seemed the time had come to meet his fate. He watched as the arm was pulled back still further, its muscles primed for its fast motion. As it began to move towards him he turned he closed his eyes, he couldn't watch it reach him. He held his breath, waiting. Against his cheek he could feel the rush of air as the arm flew towards him, its weapon ready to strike. Soon it would slice through his throat, cleaving flesh from bone. He was ready for the pain.

But it didn't come. He waited but nothing came.

He could feel his heart beating in his chest, its rhythm steady. He was alive. Opening his eyes slowly he assessed the situation. He was lying on the floor. Half of his face was buried in the soft carpet. Pushing himself up into a sitting position he looked all around him. Without warning he remembered what had happened. He remembered everything; the body, the head, his attacker and Robyn.

His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other. He was alone. Alone except for the body hidden behind the coffee table and the head that continued to stare wordlessly at him from the floor. He looked back at it, wondering who it had once belonged to, wondering if they had felt anything at the point of their death. He would never know. Neither would they.

His mind returned to his daughter. She wasn't in the corner where he had last seen her. Panic seized him when he thought that she might have suffered the same fate as the man whose head he had been considering.

Springing onto his feet he ran into the kitchen. There was no one there. All he could see was his attacker's escape route, the door had been left wide open. Cautiously he moved over to it, he didn't know how long he had been unconscious. If it had been mere minutes there was a danger that his attacker was still close, waiting for another opportunity to attack. He reached the door and closed it, his fingers fumbled to find the key to lock it. Slight relief filled him when he heard the bolt snap into place.

Leaving the kitchen he moved upstairs. All was silent as he reached the top. None of the doors were open, each was shut against the growing darkness in the hallway. He headed straight for his daughter's bedroom, she had to be there. Carefully he pushed open the door, he was greeted by more darkness.

His fingers searched along the wall, looking for the light switch. They found it. Before he could change his mind he flicked it on, light flooded the room, stinging his eyes. He couldn't resist the urge to close them firmly, the light was too bright. Moments passed before he slowly began to open them, just to slits at first and then completely. With his eyes adjusted to the light he looked around.

Robyn was lying on the bed, her face buried in the pillows. He began to walk slowly towards her not yet knowing if she was alive or dead. As he drew closer he heard a soft sound, almost a moan, from somewhere in the room. It was close. His eyes dropped to the floor, scanning. They saw something poking out from underneath Robyn's bed, it was a shoe.

Quickly Sportacus knelt down. Lifting up the sheet that covered the underside of the bed he saw someone stuffed underneath. He carefully pulled at the foot held within the shoe to release the person. Several tugs drew them into the room, he looked at the face contorted in pain, the bruise covering most of the forehead. He recognised the man.

It was Michael.

He was about to try and bring Michael round when he heard the front door open below. The sound of footsteps clad in heavy shoes sounded on the stairs. Voices echoed in the hallway before several men spilled into the room. All of them were armed, all of them were ready to defend themselves against any possible attack. They looked at him and he looked at them, wondering what they were going to do. He was about to speak when someone beat him to it. The men stood down, sheathing their weapons and moving themselves to stand either side of the door.

Another man entered the room, his uniform differed from that of the others. A smile touched his lips as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

"Sportacus, how nice to find you alive." The man said sounding genuinely pleased.

Sportacus frowned, "Who are you?"

"Elias. I'm one of the heads of the Network. You're lucky to be alive although I can see you're injured. One of my men will take care of your wounds, the others will move your friends to alternative accomodation while we deal with the mess downstairs."

"Do you know who it was that attacked me?"

Elias nodded, "That's why we're calling a town meeting. There's something all of you need to know."