(Middle of nowhere, U.S. Midwest)

A prairie landscape, as vast as the eye could see, rustled in the breeze of the late afternoon wind. It was calm, peaceful, serene. A lone prairie dog scurried around looking for food. It looked around, stood up on its hind legs, then all of a sudden bolted in towards a hole.

As it went in, the sky around the area of the prairie began to darken, making the sunny landscape slip darker as if a storm was about to hit. Thunder rumbled, the sound seeming to come from a certain spot in the middle of the air. Within seconds a white mist materialized 5 feet from the ground and began to swirl in a hurricane fashion, going slowly at first. As it swirled it became darker, picking up speed as it did. Only when the mist resembled the swirling mass of a hurricane did the mist turned into a cobalt-black darker than night itself. A white crack that sounded like a gun and body along with a notched and chipped sword shot out into a heap 10 feet from the swirling mass. The mist glowed red before it dissipated and vanished into nothing. The sky grew lighter again and soon it seemed as if nothing had happened at all, the only evidence being the human figure lying face first on the ground partly on his side. Though he appeared dead, he was alive, barely.

The blackness around him seemed to be even darker than he could have imagined. The mind-numbing pain was even worse. The remnants of a shirt with a hint of armor, with torn jeans and tattered shoes were all that clothed him. His bloodied, battered body, covered with dirt, grime, cuts, scratches, a few stab wounds, and countless other injuries, seemed as if it went through the bowels of Tartarus twice. No matter how much ground he was on right now, he'd have to be there for days just to even feel half alive. The touch of death was on him, but he was holding on to life by a feather. The only things keeping him alive were his thoughts and memories.

His family's smiling faces, the girl he loved, the two things that meant the most to him.

He tried to draw strength from the ground beneath him, but it seemed as if this was not working at all. He tried to move, but he might as well have been carrying the sky on his body. As he tried to get back up, he felt the darkness begin to wash over him. Before he knew he blacked out and didn't move.

The rain swept through the prairie, turning the dry landscape into a wet bog. The man was still there, still blacked out. The rain did wash away some of the dried, and new blood off of him, as well as the dirt and grime. He still looked like he could be dead any second though. That theory was out out of the door when he began to stir. He took his head out of the mud, spitting out any of it that got into his mouth. He looked around, and saw a prairie dog staring at him intently two feet away from him.

He tried to get up, and managed to get on his hands and knees before he slumped back down, breathing heavily and ragged. His head was swimming as the world seemed to spin in a circle around him. He needed to get up, but how could he in this condition.

He lay down on the ground for what seemed like hours, the rain continually pouring over him. He wanted to shiver, but the pain was so much that when he tried, he ended up groaning and cough up a bit of blood. As he contemplated whether to just give up and die right here, he felt a furry body rub up to the side of his head. He opened his eyes and saw the prairie dog curling up with him. The creature eyed him for a minute before it laid down and soon fell asleep. He decided that the little creature had the right idea and fell asleep, his headache and pains making it quicker than usual.

(Morning)

If he thought the night was bad enough, the morning was worse. When he woke up, he was surrounded in a world of muddy fields, cloudy sky, and unbearable humidity. Basically it was like Georgia after a tornado hits. Blinking out the water/blood/mud on his face, he tried to sit up. This time he was able to get on his knees before he dropped back down. The prairie dog sleeping beside him woke up and looked up at him once before scurrying away into a hole. Groaning, he tried to get up again and this time managed to get on his legs for a split second before getting back on his knees and hands, panting. A violent tremor went through his body and he violently coughed out blood three times. His head swimming, he barely had enough time to think of his destination to earth travel to before passing out.

(New York)

He came to in the dead of night. Using his powers, he was able to determine from the Earth's current position that it was 11:00, Saturday night. Groggy and nearly out of energy, he looked up to see see he was five feet away from the one place he missed over everything.

"Home," he thought. Slowly getting to his feet, sword in hand just in case, he began the painful walk to the front door. Getting up to the door, he looked down at the mat and painfully knelt down to get the spare key hidden under it. Taking it out he slowly inserted it in the keyhole and unlocked the door. He cautiously, or in this case as slowly as possible due to his numerous injuries. Quietly moving into the house, he heard a TV on where he knew the living room was, and also the chatter of many voices.

As quickly and covertly as possible, he went in through the side door of the kitchen and peered into the living from the open wall leading into his utter joy, there were all the people that mattered to him in his life. Gerald, Maria, Seth, June, Katie, and Alicia. They were all talking to each other, looking like they were having a good time. All of a sudden, he noticed that there was a little girl sitting on Alicia's lap. She looked no older than three by the looks of her, her hair was braided into micro-mini braids, and she wore pj's with little pictures of the various Greek gods and goddesses.

"Is she babysitting?" he asked himself. He felt immensely tired and felt like he was about to pass out any given second. His injuries stung him harshly. Just as he was about to walk in there, he heard a small click behind him.

"Slowly turn," said Danny, a gun held up to the man's head. The man slowly turned his blood-mud spattered face shown to the man in the light, as well as his green eyes.

"Dad," he said softly before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Danny Sr. rushed over to him and hoisted him up to look on the face of his youngest son, Danny jr., now returned.

"Everyone, get in here now!" yelled Danny.

"What's wrong Danny?" said Katie, running in before she stopped completely and her face took on that of pure shock. So did everyone else when they saw who Danny was holding.