Okay, so this is obviously not true to form with the once a month updates I talked about. First, I want to say I'm sorry about that, and that I will try to keep updates consistent. Second, I'm going to start incorporating OC's I've received for the original story, which you can find on my profile, here. I feel it's only right that if I start over I do these people service and include their characters here as well. Now, in reference to why this is late and why this tardiness won't become a regular thing, is that there have been more things going on that normal. Being in my senior year of high school, I've had several college visits, driving practice with my test coming up in May, I've gotten my final projects for a few classes, and I've been to the doctor's a lot; that one's nothing serious, just a little more than usual. So, with all that done I hope to put a little more focus on this, as I love doing it and hearing responses and criticism.

He wheezed into the cold midnight air, the large piston planted onto his sternum. Rain tickled his skin, and a young woman dragged cuts into his legs. Reflexively curling his body yielded no benefit, as his limbs were tied to the earth. It had only been an hour…he just had to spend eleven more ribs to leave. He just had to keep his resolve strong.

"So, your first time here?" she nonchalantly spat, busy etching slits into his strained thigh. Through his life he'd suffered too much to have these papercuts matter much, but the tingling of blood trickling out was still quite bothersome. Through the vice on his chest, he croaked "Does it…matter? Y-you're…just here…to torture me…no more, no less." Gazing down past the girder on his chest he saw her brow furrow in aggravation.

She wasn't what you'd expect from some…executioner/torturer type. She was a fair, dainty redhead, long curling hair sprawled along the ground as she lounged by his bare hips. Tight black leathers hugged every curve and crevice of her body, glistening with rain…it had been a long time, hadn't it? Starving for a touch firmer than rain, gentler than a knife, something warm and soft…alive, not cold and hard like the restraints he was in, grew in.

But for now…she just continued scribbling cuts on his leg, her eyebrows slanted in, what was it, discomfort? Interesting, but too minute a detail to tear his focus from the irritating pressure on his chest. Just then, he heard a whir of gears…it was that time. A second, smaller piston descended from the gallows-base of the larger, settling over his left oblique's…here it comes. For a moment, all the rain and blood seemed to halt…this pain…. Two cracks had rung out, a shock of pain strangling what little breath he had left.

Ten hours left…another hammer whacked him.

Nine…a bigger storm began to brew.

Eight…one third the way there.

Seven…rain beat on his bare body.

Six…half way…one half of the pain.

Five…would he be able to get up and leave like he had the others?

Four…sunlight peeked over the mountains.

Three…he could hear the shards of bone in his chest shift as he gasped breaths.

Two…he was so cold…he wanted something soft…warm…on his…body…lips….

One…so…cold….

Zero…he heard her….

"Ok…you're…you're done. I…just get out of here. Just go! I don't want to do this anymore! I…your stupid father and this pointless…" she sobbed out incoherently.

Her warmth…her soft curves…his mouth watered at the thought….

The ties bit into his wrists and ankles as he lurched, hissing in pain. He tore the restraints off to leave fresh blood trickling down his skin as his hands settled under the large vice. With a groan of metal, he lifted it away. Her crying stopped, replaced by shivers. Her own ocean eyes were shone in his…they seemed to engulf hers entirely. "Hey…c'mere…you seem upset…" he sang, drearily eyeing her up. His eyes shone like a snake's, lust dripping from his pointed tongue as it slipped along his lips. Shuddering, she found her knees go numb at his gaze…it was a strange cocktail of fear, sympathy, sorrow, and lust, all covered with a dead glaze. Had he…gone insane, finally? A certain fatigue was in his hobble as he neared her, his long blond hair draped over his shoulders. "Can you…" he wheezed, "do something for me…?"

Contrary to his gasping before, something…magnetic permeated his voice. The way his eyes seemed to glow…his stare seemed to suck her up. As he lurched toward her she found her muscles lock, and blood run cold….

"Stay…right…there."

His breath on her face…it was chilly, life-sucking. His metal fingers grasped her shoulders. A freezing feeling splintered through her body…it seemed to steal her heat. Opening her mouth to protest, she found she had no voice left…her vision began to dim, a tiredness constricting her weakened movements. Eventually she could only stare into blackness, seeing nothing…. But this feeling…an intense pain in her neck, the flesh suddenly going numb as thick, warm liquid slipped down her skin. She could hear the primal snapping of muscle.

His eyes cracked open, burning at the air blowing on them. Odd swaths of blue-grey consumed his vision, but maybe it was just the ceiling. Trying to stretch, a soreness spread through his joints. Pain racked his head, trailing down into his ribs and left arm. He felt a heap of cushiony blankets warming him about his legs, a stunningly powerful pain in his sternum. Furthermore, a fierce cold was seeping through his veins, some dead, dark feeling. He was pretty hungry…. Where there wasn't skin there was bandage, his arm cocked in a cast.

Moving his eyes was pretty irritating, as it made his head ache. His growling stomach was no better, the throbbing in his chest leagues above. Still, he found himself looking around in confusion. Then, fear.

Two IVs were in his upper right arm, at least where there wasn't metal. Frantic, he tore them out. Cold sweat beading his skin, he kicked off the blankets and nearly fell off the cot. Wrapping himself in his arms, he clutched the pinholes from the needles and shook his head. "God no...just no. Holy...holy shit, why'd this have to happen of all things?" he whimpered to himself. He wasn't afraid of needles because of the pain. Something from a long time ago had made him fear what they came to mean. However, he eventually calmed and refocused on where he was.

He was in a small medical room of sorts, once on a fairly simple hospital bed on wheels. A row of similar beds stretched to either side of the room. An entire wall was a window at the left end of the clinic, several panels opened to the vast rain outside. Bothersome. Wet and windy. Don't be mistaken, he liked rain; just not inside. He saw his metal clad feet glistening in the moon light as he strode to the window.

Pausing, he pondered yesterday. A dark giantess had come from basically nowhere, he'd had a fight he didn't remember, and Dejhir…helped him. Her influence was why he'd dumbly tuned everything out for a minute; she'd showed him a vision of the future. Her prognostic had been that Kree-Ati's storm ball would punch a hole through their defenses and heavily injure them. So instead, she presented piercing it. Helpful, but….

'She doesn't just help. She wants something, yet I have no idea what.' She had helped in the past, but it always was supplanted by her greed or need to "protect her vessel." Him, obviously. Furthermore, never had it been a vision. It was always a"fight or flight" style physical buff, as she was tied to his body via his arm. She was an Andesine…a derivative of Labradorite? Known for healing and future sense. Possibly playing into her namesake, though she wasn't healing anyone anytime soon. There was still too much uncertainty.

Stifling a yawn, he began turning the cranks for each window. As he gazed into the gloomy shoreline outside, he heard the shifting of bedsheets. Last latch clicking, he cast a glance at the cot nearest him. It looked like…that giant…maybe? She looked…a lot smaller.

She was curled up in the blankets in a deep sleep, curly pinkish hair cascading over the side of the bed. All he could see was that her hair was let down as opposed to in pigtails, and her curvy form under the covers. As opposed to being a towering twenty feet, she was only maybe four foot six now. Her face looked…calmer than he'd expect from an enemy. Maybe she was just some confused kid, as confused as he was…the same parasite that jacked his mind had come from her.

Rainwater babbled as he stepped away from the windows, another patient catching his eye. Short violet locks fanned out on the pillow, a few stray strands waving in the residual breeze of the once open window. Yet, it was hard to make out her face through the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Furthermore, it was so dim as to completely shroud all of what lay out of the light. The cold made her shiver as she lay slumbering in bed. There were blankets only covering her up to her lap as she sat with IVs in her arm, bandages and casts leaving little room for her fair, pale skin to show. She had on a powder green hospital smock, just barely defining her elegant build. Granted she was small in the vast bedspread, one leg bulged under the covers; likely clad in a cast.

He stopped beside her. Trickling rain threw translucent snaking shadows onto her face as she slept…her breath was calm, as well. Resigned, he whispered "Good…they're fine…," and slipped the blankets over her to her neck.

Turning, he ruffled his fingers through his hair. A frown forced its way onto his face. Where was everyone else? He was hesitant, but he figured no one would be too upset to see him up and awake. Here's to hoping they're in the living room already…

Lead seemed to weigh on her eyelids, her sleep incredibly hard to escape from. Croaks escaped her lips at the burning, throbbing pain in her right arm and knee, an odd hardness around them. Muscle memory took hold as she tried to move, but a shock of pain quickly stopped her. In spite of the fluffy blankets she felt around her she was shaking. She felt so drained….

After working up what little strength of will she could find, she forced her eyes open. A chilled air hit them, feeling as gloomy as the room looked in its blues and greys. She saw hospital beds, their sheets dusted with shadows of raindrops. In the medical ward, she could tell that much. Though still woozy, she could make out someone resting on a cot many beds away, and she could hear a distant chatter.

"What happened? How long was I under?" That sweeping bass, aloof yet wise…Lance. Another voice answered him, but was either too quiet or too distant to make out correctly. Whatever they said, it seemed to rile Lance up. "Three days…? And you said I what? I apologize. I…how is everyone?"

More distant grumbles. She was hoping for good news…. "That's good…Hmm? My injuries? I'm…sure, I'll take it easy. Thanks for your hospitality…" he stuttered out, the sound of footfalls growing closer. Though it was difficult to keep her eyes open, she saw him reenter the room gazing at his metallic feet. A grimace was apparent on his face, or at least was until he slid his free hand over his eyes. Leaning against the wall just before the room opened, she saw his lips dance in a whisper. "Am I just losing myself further?"

Swallowing what little saliva she had, she found her curiosity build within her throat as words. Ignoring her coarseness, she called "Further…into what?" Seemingly unaware she'd woken, she saw his metal fingers slide off of his face of the same nature. Amidst the shining steel she saw his left eye, that small ruby glass pane, stare through her. His lean yet striated and scarred physique lay crooked against the wall, one leg over the other.

For a moment they locked eyes before he averted his, a redness of embarrassment coming over his face. "It's not worth dwelling on. How do you feel?" Terrible. "Fine" she chirped quietly. At least she wasn't sitting here marinating in pain alone. Her eyes tracked him as he stumbled over and eased onto the bed. As he sat and breathed, his back to her, she could see the muscles under his permanently-scratched skin subtly shift. She wondered what he would've looked like without years of war on his body. That steel on his skin….

"How did you get those?" slipped from her lips. Cocking his head back, he gave her a sideways glance. "…The metal? …They're called…Locks." Rolling to the closer side of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees. Steels scratched each other as he wrung his hands. "If I dealt with these demons, day to day…alone…I'd lose even the slightest control I still have. These keep Dejhir, and others, relatively locked away. Still…she's a stubborn one…."

Holding his head in his hands seemed to help calm him. Demons inside him…. "As someone with demons, too…I know how it is. I'm sorry. You may hear that a lot, but…really." Was he…laughing? It was nearly silent…. "Still, I can see it in your eyes. Yours aren't an issue anymore."

At this, she could only stare into the ceiling. She'd sort of been caught. Almost like he knew, he breathed "I'm not some demon-driven killer. Just know that. All I am is…." Swallowing, he lay back onto the bed. Sinking deeper into her own cot, her tiredness began to gnaw at her. So hard to keep her eyes open…. "Just lost. I know." Fighting off a yawn, her eyes swept over his lounging form. Eyes closed, he had his hands curled together on his waist. Granted he wasn't exactly a big guy, beneath his scars lay powerfully sculpted muscles. Furthermore, it's not every day you had a half-naked divine stranger sitting next to you…who was this guy?

"Who-" "Good question" he cut in, clearing his throat. "I'll give you some context. I'm from a large seaside city on a planet called Kur. I didn't know my parents, most likely gave me up because of poverty. They actually managed to work something out with the monarchy, and I became a surrogate prince. Perhaps I'd have grown into a wise, generous ruler if things didn't suck."

Pausing, he arched a leg and crossed the other over. His free hand behind his head, he resumed. "At about five...my life became an ungodly test. I don't know why – maybe pops didn't like my peasant bloodline…or didn't care. Instead of learning to become the next ruler, I was locked away; I don't think the public ever knew I existed. Tensions were high in the kingdom, and they were short on soldiers. Along with several others "unfit" for affection, my new parents shoved me and my innumerable new step-siblings in a massive facility in the castle basement."

Cold wasn't why she shuddered…he had barely started and yet a chilling veil of dread crept its way over her. It was hard to look at anything but the ceiling. "From the beginning it was Hell-on-Earth, alchemists, necromancers and...scientists treating us like their playground. They started hitting us with strength, speed, endurance tests…all of them made painful by awful machinery and malnourishment. After about a month we began receiving…special attention. I was…maybe eight at this point. Imagine a filthy, starving, abused kid waking up without his arms."

Metal clicked as he curled his fingers a few times. "I panicked. No arms or legs, from the knee down at least. Trying everything to get up, all I wound up doing was spend the day squirming and crying. Next day I had my limbs back, Locks and all. They even covered half my face and shoulder. Still reeling, I had no clue what was about to happen…. They had brought out their most powerful augmentations, sealing six high demons in my right arm and a fiery goddess, Dejhir, into a crystal, then into my left. It was…a terrible idea…."

Although her eyelids were shut in sleepiness, her ears and mind wouldn't let her rest. She had to listen…. "They fought over my body for several weeks. I wrecked the place. Broke out of a lead-clad metal box three times, killed seventeen other people in a month alone. If it's any consolation, the six demons sealed in my right arm died against Dejhir; I inherited what abilities, but also corruption, they left behind…but I digress."

Wow, he still had more. Although, this was his life story…. "Our military debut, once under control, as a unit was not received well. Yes, we obliterated the enemy, but at a social cost. The citizens were unaware of this little project the king was doing. They were appalled at him for creating abominations, and leaving them untrained in all but the art of primal murder. In one fell move, I lost the roof over my head and any potential compassion from the people. After they staged an "angry villager" style attack on us failed experiments, I fled to the countryside."

He took another breath. "Then, as icing on the cake, my untreated war injuries and hunger-weakened immune system caught up to me, and I began dying. Alone in the woods, stuck on the ground, I lasted three days before I saw a light…Heaven itself took pity on me, and saw potential. I wasn't a bad fighter, either. So they took me in…. I was afraid when the monarch, Gliver, asked me to join his army. Obviously, I had royal bias…but putting it aside led me to twelve great years…."

She almost didn't hear the sheets shift as he sat up. Voice slightly wavering through his tears, he spat "And I can't afford to lose it now…."

So…that's who he is. Of all the heroes she'd met, none had been so bold as to just spill such a sensitive topic. Gathering her thoughts, she could only whisper "I'm…sorry. You probably hear that a lot, but really…I'm sorry." His airy breaths were far and few between, sounding off nearly in time with the gentle thundering outside. "…Thank you." She only could see his back as he lay, the scars shifting with each exchange of brisk air. She could sense the innumerable demons within him. Even with all she knew, she'd never been in the same room with so many….

Mustering up the bravado to ask in spite of his reclusive state, she meekly called "Who were they?" She didn't really expect anything back. Yet, he continued to surprise. "My parents? The scientists? Or the demons? I suppose it doesn't matter which; I'm in a chatting mood, so it's only a matter of time."

"My parents…they were a pair. My birth father, from what I saw in photo, was full of power and grit, and tall as a tower. Whatever pictures I saw were of him smithing molten metals. One was of the wedding, though. In contrast, my mother was a petite sprite of sorts, with a huge head of thick gold hair and coiled black ram's horns alongside her sleepy face. Maybe an Earth Sprite? They went well enough together, anyway. Wish I could say the same about my adoptive parents…what a wreck. "Aegis," as they called him, was little more than a tall, gaunt, old fool. Monarch as he was, he was spoiled to his core, never vocal about it but showing it through action. It was his plan alone to begin the military project. My new mother, however, was far from his reserved wrath. She was kind of dollish as well, with long red hair as vibrant as magma. Still, she didn't possess any violence…." He trailed off, letting falling rain fill in the auditory gap. "Not inherently, at least."

"When it came to the military program, he'd set it up almost tyrannically. Complete lack of contractors and awareness aside, he'd used the equivalent of a secret executive order to set it up. To maintain the facility, since he was never around, he passed the jurisdiction onto Selene, his wife. Those scientists didn't want to work for him. He kept them prisoner, wiped them from public records, and ensured they were blackmailed or more often beaten daily to assure that they worked. Since he was never there, he had Selene do that. And so, in order to make her, he brainwashed her into violence by beating her. Almost by fate, the final chain link manifested itself as the scientists' apathy for us soldiers. Tortured every day, they'd forgotten social decency in favor of fear, and so neglected us. That's…."

Mouth agape, he drowsily yawned. There was further pause. "Wow, I never thought talking so much would be so tiring…anyway, the demons. The rare times the king did check in were when the overseers obtained new shipments of relics and tools with which to experiment. Some of the new inventory, in addition to several enhancing demons now within me, included Dejhir, the Six Lords, and the Locks. The Six Lords was the collective title of the six demons, which belong to a lost gauntlet called Ragnarok, sealed in my right arm. Each is respective of a given element and property, Surtr, fire and strength, Yggdrasil, earth and enchantment, Fenrir, wind and agility, Baldr, light and healing, Angrboda, ice and constitution, and Loki, dark and manipulative. While they did fight amongst themselves, they always seemed to come together when the time came to bother me. Or Dejhir…but I could fill hours with stories about her…."

Likely not fun stories, but that aside…wow. At this rate, what could she say? Or do? Star would be quick to smother him in a hug, but her casts most surely prevented that…not that she'd do that, anyway. A yawn forced its way through her lips, fatigue settling in her bones. What even happened the other day? It had left her with such injuries…. "Did Robin tell you what happened?" Seeming to droop, he responded "Ah…Sadly, yes. Do you know, as well?" She gently shook her head no. This cued a sigh.

"Whatever dragged me into Kree-Ati was potent enough to take control of me. Once inside it drove me berserk, and I attacked all of you. In particular, it spread its influence to you. He said we nearly would've killed each other if you hadn't snapped out of it. Apparently, using your good hand you…stabbed me straight through the chest. That was the end of it, and we collapsed."

What did she do? He's saying she… "You mean I…tore into you with my bare hands? H-How? I can't…" her words faded as she stared at her bound right arm. Suddenly, he began to chuckle. "That look…" he paused, gazing into the reflective metal on his arms, "reminds me of someone. You know, you're asking a lot of questions. Not the "reclusive dark maiden" I'd assumed…. Who are you?"

His mention of "dark maiden," though it sounded like one of Beastboy's dumb games, brought an embarrassing heat to her face. Violet eye cracking open again, she passed him a wry glare. "What? Looking for competition? Well, sorry to disappoint…." On the contrary, she still found it right to tell her story in return.

"I was born in a realm called Azarath. Calm and quiet, ideal for "reclusive maidens." The sun shone in a beautiful sunset when I was able to see it. All of my days were spent meditating and learning magic under monks with a dry sense of sociality. It's kind of funny…how they empowered me in spite of our neutral nature. They were just afraid of my father…." Staring into her bedspread, she huffed and continued.

"He – Trigon – eventually did rise and plunge my home into darkness. My mother, Arella, had me run far away…I ended up here in Jump City. I didn't really know anyone until I met these jokers, and then…we became a family…." Releasing a weak sigh she completely went limp on the bed. Eyes swept over the clock as she lay. 'Midnight….' "Ah, you're Trigon's daughter? Well, I hope you don't think ill of me, but it's an honor to officially meet his daughter." Let him think that way if he wanted. She was just happy to be rid of the old man.

A crack of thunder interrupted her train of thought, sending powerful vibrations through the air. Still, her eyelids became increasingly heavy. Hanging in a purgatory of awake and asleep, she heard him stir and metal touch the tiles. "…I'm touched by your hospitality. That said…I shouldn't have accepted it to begin with."

Steel clicked rhythmically as he strode to the door. She wished to see what he was doing, but exhaustion had sealed her eyes for good it seemed. "I'll be gone when you wake. Thanks again."

Having heard that last resigned tone, his steps faded. Waiting for inquiry from those in the other room, she eventually grew too tired to lie awake anticipating something. A floaty high came over her as she began to drift off to sleep. Warmth overtook her body, finally pushing her over the edge and into dreamland.

Floating amongst swathes of gray clouds, she discovered halfway through that they made images that overlapped and melded. Visuals drifted by of her friends, her fears, fun, everything. She wasn't expectant of a red one. As opposed to crisp details, this one blurred almost to the point of being indecipherable. It seemed to be a moving image, as well. Reaching for her, the fuzzy dream cloud expanded to engulf all others. It was hot…she poured sweat, breathing ragged from heat. Painful paralysis gripped her left hand. Feeling her dream begin to warp and weaken, she heard a voice.

"Stay…away…he belongs to…me…."

A harsh flash of light, and suddenly an explosion of fire consumed her.

Peering around the room fresh out of sleep nearly blinded her. Normally she'd be too sleepy to move, but the sunlight seemed to burn her out of the bed. She found herself frantic to block it. Grabbing for blankets, pillows, anything, she cloaked herself and pulled it over her head. Or rather, pitched a tent on her scalp.

Still reeling from the odd pain, she cautiously reached up to her head. Suddenly, a shot of pain flew through her finger as she jammed it on…something. Curious, and a bit ticked off at the painful turn of events, she inspected her hands. Nothing seemed wrong, save for the sharp black claws where her nails had been.

"…Eh…what are…?" she stuttered, checking them over multiple times. They weren't particularly long but were extremely pointy, and gently hooked. There was even some crosshair-like black symbol on her left hand, trails etched to her elbow. Maybe some stupid prank from Beastboy…though they felt real in her fingers. Her casts also lay cracked and discarded on the bed. Being sure not to bump her…claws again, she went back to her head. Not being able to see, she jumped a bit when her fingertips grazed something hard and smooth. Collecting herself she went in again. It was…wood? Metal, maybe? It started at her hairline, thick at its base and slightly coiling up and back to a sharp tip hanging a few inches above her ears. "What's going on…?"

More nervous by the second, she went to leave her makeshift tent. At first, the burning pain hit her skin, but she learned that it faded with exposure. With this newfound knowledge, she steeped herself in light to get it out of the way. It was so extreme near her core…maybe it hadn't been a good idea, but it was over anyway.

Following a pattern of caution, she touched her bare feet to the floor; they had sharp black nails on their slender toes, as well. Shaking off this new info she floated her way to a mirror. Drifting through the halls, she found her hospital smock a bit more snug and short than normal. Possibly swelling from the injuries. Still, what had happened, exactly?

Eventually she found the bathroom. A slew of scents hit her, so strong as to make her cover her nose. Soaps, cologne, mildew; all so powerful, yet the bathroom was sparkling clean, no spills anywhere. 'Beastboy was probably just spraying 'Axe' everywhere…' she thought. Aside from the oddly pungent smells, she heard the whispers of water flowing through pipes in the walls, and a steady drip…all the way down the drain? Entering, she popped the cover on the sink drain - this pipe was pretty deep…. 'Okay…why can I…smell and hear so well?' Dismissing it as things just out of the ordinary, she turned to the mirror. Hovering inside, she found the pill cabinet it was on ajar; great, she'd close the mirror for a horror movie style reveal…. Well, time to get it over with.

Reaching out, she shut the cabinet. It was…simultaneously underwhelming and novel. Chief among her reliefs, her face wasn't monstrous. There was some black lipstick she didn't remember putting on…that she also couldn't remove. Were these…her lips? Strange, but it was a better look than being frightening. The gem on her forehead was fine, as well. Her eyes, too, had changed, now a stunning crimson. Not horrible, almost pretty. Yet there was more. Pulling the baggy robes tight around her form, she wondered if she'd grown taller, or her hips slightly widened. Now, her head…horns. Great. Two black horns started, like she'd felt, thick at her hairline, and twisted back to two points floating above her ears. They added a strangely comfortable weight to her head.

Really, it could be worse, but she wasn't keen on a makeover in the first place. What happened…Lance was gone, right? Whispering to herself, she vowed "I'm going to find him and make him explain this."

Making sure the halls were clear, she flew to her room. Throwing off the smock, she went for her dresser but ultimately took a detour to inspect herself again. It was difficult to tell, granted the horns, but she seemed at least an inch or two taller. Her black panties definitely seemed stressed as they clung to her hips, even if they were only subtly wider. It made her wonder if whatever happened had increased her physique. Flexing her arms or legs still left her without much muscle definition, but she felt a little stronger. "Oh, forget it, I'll have time to gawk when I get back."

Grabbing a black leotard, she slipped in and adjusted herself to the new hug of it. Attaching her belt, which clicked notably louder than usual, and cloak, she opened the window and floated out. Hovering above the tower in the early morning rain, she pondered where to go. She didn't even know where he went, if he was still on Earth. He was too far to sense. Suddenly though, her nose picked up something. It smelled like…burnt sugar, with a hint of metal. The metal was clearly just metal, but something inherent to her told her the burnt sugar was symbolic of a creature. "…dark…a demon? Magic?" came to her, something in her knowing that to be close. The smell was drifting up from the south….

Treading the damp earth, he gazed into the three a.m. sky and admired the dusky blue that the storm had dyed the world violet. It remained a drizzle, ever since he'd moved far south enough of…what was it she said, Jump City? He hadn't seen too much of it; the original ride to their home was short and the walk out was quick due to him traveling along rooftops.

An unexpected belch escaped him as he wiped the red from his lips, the irony stench satisfying. That hunger…it nearly drove him to carnage. Having found a farm on his way south was the main saving grace. He was hoping that the farmer wouldn't mind that he'd taken some…things. Thievery wasn't ideal, but livestock was less incriminating than people in this instance. Luckily, he'd found some fresh mint in the forest to cut the smell.

He ruffled his blonde locks, checking their length. A bit past his ears…not long enough to tie yet, if he had to. That aside, on his way here, it'd been mainly forests or the occasional plain, a soggy breeze tailing him the whole way. Thankfully he hadn't met anyone on his way down. Maybe…a couple hundred miles south, and no people yet? Being able to leap a football field at max speed surely helped him cover ground. Now, where was he?

A salty tang hung on the wind, the sound of crashing waves distant, barely audible. Emerging from a fairly open forest, he came to see a small town in the distance. Very small. From his place half a mile away, he could only see a few main streets, a few food shops lining the street that was, almost, a surrogate boardwalk. It continued a short amount forward to a small mountain on the fringe of the shore, too dark to see but definitely not mountain shaped. A street left led to maybe one or two more stores then a stretch of open road most probably leading to homes, though there were none here.

Building up his speed, he leapt the distance with ease; the same couldn't be said about his staggered landing. The original wound on his hip still was sore, a black blotch the last time he looked at it. He turned his attention to the town, instead.

Glowing in the misty air, a single street light cast its light over the sole lit store in town, a doughnut shop. 'Open all night, I guess? Must like their doughnuts…' he pondered, leaping into the distance and landing at the foot of town. Passing by the side street, he took a hand out of his pocket and opened the door.

Lights were on, but nobody home. "…Hello? Your door's open…anybody here?" No answer. However, as he strolled in someone stirred from sleep at a table he hadn't noticed before. Hopefully an employee….

His fluffy Mohawk of brown hair bobbed as he groggily shot up out of his seat, his stretched earlobes following suit. A sand brown shirt with some design or other showed drops of drool on it, as did his khaki pants. Still half asleep, he began drowsily spouting some knee jerk reaction. "Guh…okay, okay, Sadie…I'm closing up…don't…" he trailed off once he was done rubbing his eyes, having accidentally stopped face to face with the tall and otherworldly Lancelot. Words defied him for a minute as he stared dumbly into his two differing eyes, but that didn't hold for long before the kid stumbled back in a panic.

"Ack! Uh, I, who-!" Tripping over the chair he'd been sitting in ruined his hurried ramblings, leaving him squirming around on the floor, clearly anxious. 'Great….' Hoping to defuse the situation, Lance started "Good evening. I'm from…out of town. I saw your shop was the only one with lights on…maybe you can tell me where I am?" Hopefully, this guy would listen and not immediately freak out.

This seemed to hold true. Remaining frozen on the floor, gazing at him fearfully, the older teen found it in him to answer in his high and scratchy voice. "Y…You're in Beach…City. The most peaceful t-town this side of the coast!" he almost shouted, an unsettled smile plastered on his face. Fake smile, forced tourist-trap slogan.

Perhaps…this wasn't the right person to ask at such a time in the night. As he was leaving the tower, Kree-Ati of all people woke up. Substantially not hostile, she wasn't all bubbly and hyper…and weird, like before. She'd told him of his purpose, if he so chose to try and take back the Holy Lands. To fight the Six Generals of the Void and break through to the Shadow Lands. To end the war that had thrown him from heaven. She knew this because she was the squire to the Dark General, however untrained she actually was. Yet, she assured that the others would be leagues more powerful. Why had she told him this? Demons didn't inherently desire the war. Someone else had gone around starting it, controlling the people - not to mention her and the other squires. She wanted it stopped as much as he did.

Still…why not ask? Might have some priceless reaction…. "Anything…strange go on here? I'm looking for something." "W-well, how strange? There are those aliens on the beach, and almost every day some monster or other attacks us, but other than that, totally normal." Hmm, now this was getting somewhere. Smirking, he responded "Stranger, I'd say. Divine types of strange. Supernatural, to you."

At this, the stranger got this odd puss on his face. "Oh, so you're some "conspiracy theorist" or something? Not another…" "Far from it. Hell, you're probably more supernatural than what the one you're referring to finds." "Ha, met him?" "No, just guessing…still, if you don't know, who can I ask?" the guard inquired, feeling that this conversation should end before this guy goes on a tangent. "They call themselves the "Crystal Gems." They're those aliens I mentioned. Live on the beach."

Getting at least a part of what he came for, he turned on his heel. "Thanks for the info."

The kid ushered some rushed and awkward goodbye as Lance exited and turned left to the beach. Was the mountain their home? Probably why it had an odd silhouette. Descending to the beach, he shambled along the sand and around the small peak. The employee's fearful smile broke as soon as Lance left. He hurriedly dug his phone out, dialing someone as quickly as possible. It was ringing…and ringing…. "C'mon…pick up. Ah! Steven, listen! There's some creepy guy with this massive hammer on his way to your house! …What? No, don't go back to sleep! …Well, okay, fine! At least get someone else to do it!" Shaking in his shoes, the teen hung up.

Turning the corner, the guard came to a hemispheric open area of the shore, leading up into a small raised cottage cradled by the rock. A normal cottage…yet, an alien cottage…. Not ideal, but so long as they held true with their reputation, he supposed their stylistic tastes were of no matter. Hugging the rock, he trod through the rain moistened sand to the steps leading to their deck. Drops still drumming the wood, he began climbing.

Winds billowed his jacket. Gazing at his reflection in a glass pane behind a screen door, he could see his damage. A scar crossed his cheek bone, just barely closed, and a tiny crack divided the red glass over his opposite eye. His cast remained on his arm…actually…. With a crumbling snap he flexed the cast off in one motion. Wiping away the debris, he stretched his freed limb; healed in a day or two, couldn't have been anything more than a sprain.

Chucking some of the other lesser bandages, he collected himself and gently pounded on the door. Silence, save for the chatter of rain. He tried again with a bit more clout. Through the weather he heard a voice inside. "…yeah, yeah, slow your roll, bro…." The door before him lazily swung open.

For a second, he only saw the dimly lit inside of the house. However, there was actually a fairly short girl leaning against the doorframe. Chief amongst her…condensed features was her knee length mane of white hair, even though she seemed a teenager. An adolescent edginess shone in her violet eyes, her wide nose crinkled at him and a full, almost pouty, set of lips between her round cheeks. She wore a pitch black tank top, a large and round amethyst embedded in her chest. Plain gray sweats hugged her ample hips, dark stars on her knees. On her feet were a pair of white sneakers. She was busy drilling a chubby finger into her ear.

He could sense an aura of light emanating from her.

Feeling her eyes nonchalantly sweep over him, he scratched at his jaw hairs. Suddenly, she grinned at him. "Yo, dude, think you may be early. Halloween's next month" she declared in a high, sassy tone.

'…she's the one with that hair…' went through his mind as he cleared his throat. "Well, I sort of expected an alien to have a spaceship rather than a seaside cottage." "Not ours, we just crash here." "Ah, I see. So, I'll cut to the chase. I'm looking for something. Someone in town directed me here." She seemed apathetic at best, droning "Sorry, man, we ain't Google" before ducking back inside. Faster than could be seen, one of his grieves was jammed in the door. Calm smirk gone from her face, he reaffirmed "At least hear me out. Most you have to do is say yes or no. But, please, just listen for a hot minute."

That may've done the trick. Pausing to let rain pepper the land, she breathed "Okay…what is it?" Great, now would she buy this? "I've traveled here from a town far north. I'm not from Earth, but, in that breath, who better to ask than aliens. If you've encountered anything as of late that's far removed from reality, specifically powerful warlords, I would greatly appreciate their whereabouts." Her response was practically written on her face: she was busy giggling thinking he was insane.

Silently huffing once, he repeated "Remember, just a yes or no." "No. Toodles." Promptly he was once again face to face with the door. Back to just him and the rain….

Struggling to stifle her amusement, the snow haired teen sauntered to the fridge in their small kitchen. She pried open the door, muttering "Ha, "warlords…" as she perused the stock of food. A carton of milk caught her eye. "Come to momma…." Shutting the fridge, she began chugging. However, she almost immediately choked when she found her friend waiting behind the door. "Ack! Guh-G-Garnet! Why're you creeping on me?!" "We're in danger."

The short one gazed up at her towering comrade. A blocky black afro topped her, what was basically a wall of sunglasses covering her eyes and whole forehead. Maroons and violets formed a galactic mosaic in the jumpsuit that clung to her exaggeratedly curvy ebony figure. Embedded in her palms were two large red gemstones.

Clearly annoyed, the smaller belted "What, you mean that goof outside? Don't sweat it, he's just-" "Dangerous. It's not your fault, it's not his. However, he'll attract danger in due time." She marched over to a platform deeper into the small home, and held her palms up to a star-shaped door. It opened to a world devoid of all except spires of water, balancing glass-like masses. A dancer in a leotard was gracefully going through motions atop one. Seeing Garnet, she dropped her dance in fright. "Heavens, Garnet! How did you-" "Not the time. There's trouble."

Door morphing shut, she turned left to a little bathroom under the stairs to a semi-top level. She reflexively went to knock, but just walked in. "Peridot. We're about to be attacked, if you feel up to helping." The petite girl dressed in green had her face over a flask. Cleaning chemicals, soaps, and other liquids bubbled inside, casting neon light on the white tile. Peering up from her work, she groaned "Sure" before adding a drop of bleach. Pouring the mixture into several small grenades, she left the washroom to join the others in the kitchen.

"Now, everyone," Garnet began, ignoring the short white-maned girl chowing on chips, "we'll be under attack soon. A veritable army."

Soaring through the cool night rain, she checked her communicator: three a.m. In spite of having flown for about a day, she was still full of energy. Furthermore, her eyes pierced the night darkness with ease. This new body was having its perks…where ever it came from. Tracking that scent, she sniffed; so close now. A small seaside town faded into view through the curtains of rain. There appeared to be lights firing off from behind a small mountain on the shore.

Hurrying through the sky, she touched down on the beach to an intense scene. A sea of demon warriors, skin grey and with long black horns, were collectively slashing at a group of fighters including Lance, who curled and flipped around them. Hammer in hand, he would whip the chain out and bludgeon a few or trip them. Furthermore, he'd catch a blade or magic blast with his hands every so often and throw it aside.

Fighting with him were four women, it looked like. A short, snow haired one with a long whip, an fair, elegant dancer with a spear, and a sturdy woman with metal gloves. Some short, green clad one was off to the side throwing gas bombs. She had to admit, it was hard to see them fight amongst the chaos of the warrior hordes, but the five seemed to be holding out. However, this didn't last long. Lance, from his spot surrounded by a good twenty, picked her out through the crowd. His eye...a feral tinge shot through it.

Suddenly, he seemed to reach the end of his rope. "Enough!" he roared, his scythe glowing with light as he spun. Slicing through every soldier and their armors, they melted into dark haze. It was at this sight that the revelation of the dozens of other violet ash piles hit her. As he stood in the center of his destruction, she began walking toward him to greet him again. The four he fought with seemed to be aiming to talk to him as well, but paused when they saw him gripping his hammer.

His eye flashed with anger when the two locked looks. "You!" he thundered, stomping toward her. "Hey, bro, why so angry-" the short, white haired girl was immediately silenced. "Why? She was there, leading their forces, when these demons took the heavens! Not only were they my home, but without the gods properly balancing reality, the world may soon fall apart!" His instant aggression and talk of higher power kept them quiet. Breathing heavy, Lance growled "Leave. This won't end well." Reluctance eventually left them as they crept back inside the cottage.

"I'm going to end what began in the Holy Lands, starting with you!" his deep voice rumbling as he rushed her. Surprise gripped her, freezing her legs in place.

'He…he's going to kill me!'