Chapter One

The Competitors

Murder was quite popular this era of history. Apparently, it's been heard all over the city, and across the world. Strange things have been happening lately, but nothing as severe as this. Cain was very shocked to hear about the foster home, which he was adopted from. All those innocent children, murdered by a single bullet of a silver gun. This gun was no mystery, for he had seen it before. It was the same gun that killed his parents. The platnium gun, with the bronze bullet. Surely enough, the news had no evidince of the killer, and no witnesses, since everyone was murdered on the scene. Whoever had killed them, they were very clever, and sneaky. Cain had taken it into thought, and wondered who this killer would be? Was it the same man who murdered he and that one child's parents? It must of been, for he had weilded that very same gun, and there was only one. But this didn't make any sense.

Cain had to unveil what that man had said that night. Apparently, after murdering Cain's parents, when he saw him there, he smiled wickedly, and spoke to him, with a voice of malice and lust,

"I won't be needing this gun anymore boy. I'll give it to the next vicitum, the one who'll need it more than me, and be killing more than I can imagine." When that man didn't hand the gun to Cain, he had left out the window, and that ended that memory.

Coming back to reality, Cain continued reading the news. Along with the murder, after the killing, there were no bodies found to be identifed, and taken to their familes for proper funerals. This all didn't add up. That one man was done killing, but he wasn't done collecting bodies it seems. Cain hated murder, and anyone who commited into doing it. This act was against the will of God, which Cain strongly respected. Standing up from his chair, he walked out of his bedroom, sporting his noble attire, and out into the gloomly morning fog, with his servant Riff, close at his side.

"Where are we going, Milord?" Riff questioned, looking around, trying to peer through the fog.

"We're going to investigate the crime from last week. It doesn't make sense to me." Cain responded. The fog was deeper than most, and it was impossible to see through, literaly. Watching his every step, he made his way to the foster home ruins. He knew he was getting close, seeing the police cars alining the area.

"We're here Riff." Cain spoke calmly, as if nothing was wrong, but inside, he felt great fear. What if he saw that man again, hiden within the fog? What if the killer was awaiting in the ruins, waiting to murder more victiums, but that wasn't right either. Cain was pretty sure that the killer wouldn't want to be here, not after this incident, plus, he wouldn't want to get caught.

Sneaking past the police, Cain entered the ruins of the foster home, coated with blood, few fingers here and there. Such a disgusting sight to Cain, he gagged. Riff had heard him, but he too, was shocked by this.

"Who would ever think of doing this?" Riff whispered, trying to respect the spirits that have now rested in this ruin home. Cain knelt down, and lifted up a little girl's locket, with pictures of her and her family held inside.

"One bastard who doesn't have a heart." Cain replied, clenching the locket, and resting it back into the chopped off hand of the little girl he had found it from...

He had watched Cain in silence. These horrors were even hard on his eyes and mind. He had remebered how his parent's were killed. Riff had lied to his fellow aintquantices about his past. He wasn't abonded into the foster home, he just said that, to make him forget the real truth.

He had remembered that night too well, it was burned into his memory. The night his parent's were bruetly murdered before his young innocent eyes. The moon had risen and it's pale light lit up the room in which his parent's slept. Riff had had a bad dream, and was sleeping in between his parents, than the window clashed into the floor. Quickly waking from sleep, his mom and dad, and himself had risen, to see the man standing in the window sill, holding the platnium weapon in his hand. Spinning the barrel, quickly, he pointed it at his parents, and muttered a few words, then pulled the trigger. It only took one bullet to kill both his mom and dad, but the man had let Riff live. Before taking off with his parent's bodies, he turned to Riff, and grinned a devious grin.

"You're player two. You'll have quite a big part. Make sure you know that." After he spoke his croaky toad voice, he left out the same way he came, with his mom and dad in hand. Quickly afterwards, he was taken away to the foster home, at age one.

Remebering the memory made him tremble, but he tried to hide his expressions. He didn't want Cain to notice his fear in murder. Looking around the room, he placed his hand on Cain's shoulder and spoke calmly, trying to hide his shaky voice.

"I think we should leave, and let the children rest in peace Cain."

"You mean pieces?" Cain trembled as he spoke. Riff put his head down, sighed heavily, and lifted Cain off the ground. His young master wouldn't leave this place until he found the man who did such a devilish deed, so Riff had to take him by force.

"We can't be here all night Milord." Quietly, Riff made his exit out the way they snuck in, with Cain in his arms, scarred inside his mind of blood and death on the innocent, just as much as he was. Heading back to the massive mansion to which his master had lived, he tried forgetting the events from this morning, and lock them in a vault, along with his past of his dear beloved parents...

Life was no longer sunshine and lollipops, or rainbows and happiness. In fact it never has been, and never will be. Jizabel learned this at a very young age. In which his parent was murdered, just like everyone else's he knew. Eyria, Cain, and maybe even the boy he saw briefly at the foster home as he was being taken away out the door. He even bet they were murdered the same way, same time of night, same reason, which ever it was. That platinum gun, and that one bronze bullet. Jizabel remembered it well, even though he only saw it for a brief second, before that man left with his only loved one's body. That weapon was burned into his brain, due to his photographic memory, which he despised.

That night was like no other. Bringing up the memory once again, was to hard to bear. The power had flashed out of the house, and his guardian had woken him from his rest, to protect him from anyone, or anything that could harm him. His guardian knew his fear was darkness, and she would protect him til the lights came back on, but that never happened. Kicking down his bedroom door, and a quick pull of the trigger, his guardian was murdered, as she held him tightly. He watched her arms slip off of him, and her body land harshly on his bedroom floor. Blood spilled from her head, and coated his hands. Turning to face the murderer, he only saw the platinum gun when the lighting flashed. After the flash of the weapon, he quickly went to look at his parent's body, but it was gone, in less than a spilt second. After screaming for her, a voice answered him, but it wasn't one he wanted to hear.

"Settle down child, you'll get your chance later on in life." The way he spoke to Jizabel was very dark and sounded like a wolf, growling and snarling, a demon. Falling on his knees, into the blood of his loved one, he screamed for her once again, but no answer came, expect for the flashes of lighting and rolling thunder.

The memory was powerful, and from then on, Jizabel was now afaird of darkness, and guns. He was now living on his own, since the woman that adopted him had passed away peacefully, and rested in the graveyard on the other side of town. He had inheritted her fortune and proptery, so living was easy, except the fact that voices bothered him at night, reminding him of his past. As the days moved on, the voices got more and more irritating, and began demanded things.

Once Jizabel heard about the shooting at the foster home, the voices muttered something in his head, and they were laughing as they said it.

"See, Level one has begun..."

A murder at the foster home I grew up in huh? That was all the poor child Eyria could think of. He had made lots of friends there, but now he'll never see them again, for this blood shed used their colours for it's purpose. He didn't need to bring up his past. Everything was simple and easily understood. Parents murdered by a platinum gun, just like everyone else he knew. Eyria was born with a special gift, and a bad one too. He could see inside people's souls and hearts. He could read their desires, their fears, their wishes, and feelings. Sometimes it was a good thing, but he never used it for anyting good. He hated being nosy, and barging into other peoples thoughts and dreams. That was the last thing he wanted to be remembered for. A nosy little brat.

Somehow, maybe this ability was gifted to him for a reason. Maybe the Mighty One gave him the power to help others, from things like suicide and murder. Was he suppose to use his skill to help the foster children, and stop the murdered? Now guilt rested upon his shoulders. If only he thought of this sooner, he would of done it long ago. First things first, he needed to find the criminal, and peer into his thoughts, but who could it be?

Eyria knew he didn't do it himself, so that was easy. Then a thought struck him. Could it be one of the children that was raised at the foster home? Cain, Riff, Jizabel, or that Tokage child? It had to be. He read into their thoughts on accident and saw they had the same reason for being in that foster home. Know Eyria had a path to begin walking on. He had to question the people he considered friends about the foster home incindent, and maybe one of them, has the answer. Rising up to his feet, he was ready to leave, but sat back down quickly after. How will I find them, he thought. Rising to his feet once again, another feeling hit him. His sixth sense was picking up again.

"Oh no not again!" he screamed outloud. Every now and then, he'd get these vivid scenes in his head of murder, and malice. Strangely, the one from a couple of weeks ago was the foster home shooting. Now for some strange reason, it was a late Sunday night mass...

Night came quickly, but for him it was always night. Tokage was sitting upon a rooftop, next to the large bell that rang every Sunday morning. It had rung again to wake him, for Sunday night mass. Faintly, he could hear the preacher, and the people singing the songs to God. While listening to their patheic preaching, he was turning the barrel silently in the night. Only fifteen more mintues, then they'll be silenced.

The thoughts inside him were growing more and more into hate and malice, erasing all other emotions inside his body. Fear was long gone by now, and love was history. Tokage had forgotten why he wanted to kill everyone in the first place. For revenge? What revenge? He doesn't hate anyone, but everyone. No love at all for anyone, not even for himself. All he cared for was pride, strength, and of course, blood. Ten minutes.

As the countdown came closer to an end. He slipped off the roof, getting ready for his big roll. He had waited hours for this moment, and finally, he was done waiting. He swooped down next to the large doors, now able to hear the preaching louder. They were closing mass, and saying their final prayer. He had to wait for his cue, and it was coming up pretty soon. Five seconds.

"and deliver us from evil," they said, then the screams of the citizens filled the church, as the door was burst open, and the barrel spun, taking it's toll on the lives he had waited for for so long...

No one, had survived...

Author's Note: Ok, this chapter was even shorter than the prologue. Right now, I am just setting up the characters, and that's always bad to start with, but always best. I hope this kinda makes sense, but the story really kicks in later on through the story. I hope you stick with me, and read this through. If it's still confusing, then maybe this isn't the ficition for you. I do jump around with charcters, but I kind of have to. They aren't all together, so leave me no choice.

I hope you read on, (like I said eariler) and note that I don't know much about this topic, so it might be pretty bad. (New type of story genre for me)