Who Is This Man Of Shadow?

The only way to get to Compound Zeta is to take one of the ramps onto the overpass and head along until you get to the next exit, Exit N-37. But considering this man is leading a slow and most probably weak group it is going to take them a while to reach the ramp that gets onto the overpass, if I hurry I can make it over there and set up for a clear shot before they get there.

I take off running down the street of the abandoned slums, the Evil Dead rising up from the alleyways, lunging at me to drag me down to the depths of hell. But I continue running, I have to confront this monstrosity, I have to stop him before he corrupts those innocent people. I unsheathe my sword, continuing at my breakneck pace, slashing though any Demon that dares to step into my path. I have to make it! It is the will of God!

Ten solid minutes of running later I made it to a the top of a small burned out building, part of the wall facing the road collapsed exposing the interior of the building, giving me a wide field of vision for my target. The only downside to this position is that it is less than one-hundred and fifty meters from the road, meaning that in trade for not needing to adjust my scope The Man that I am to be shooting at can reach me just as easily.

I settle and wait, looking down the road, waiting to see The Man in the dark cloak. I did not have that long to wait, 15 minutes later I could see movement down the street, the shuffling of multiple figures as they progressed down the abandoned road. I lifted up my rifle, my scope giving me all the details I needed. The man in the cloak was leading the small family along, a large black scythe held in hand, the whole weapon dark as Satan's black heart. The whole weapon, even from this distance, radiated, pain fear and shadow. Yet at the same time it was a familiar feeling, one that I felt oddly comfortable with…no matter, soon the weapon shall be locked in the Armory, never to see the light of day again.

I wait, the figures in the distance drawing closer to my firing zone. All I need to do is pull off one shot and I will be able to abolish this dark entity. But something peculiar happens before they make it into the kill zone that I had set up. The man that is pulling the cart stumbles, his footing misplaced by a pothole in the road. The man recovers and continues on, but the Cloaked Fiend steps in front of the man making him stop. Fearing the worse I sight in on this Cloaked Man, my crosshairs set right in the middle of his back, but just as my finger slid into the trigger guard I see what is really going on.

The Cloaked man takes up the handle of the cart, the man that was once pulling it now sitting on the back along with the rest of his family. The Cloaked man takes on the burden, without any hesitation or complaint. He just continues walking as if he were on the street for his daily stroll, this great weight he takes up with him a non-existent object. I hesitate…this man. If he is indeed as corrupt as I've been lead to believe then how could he take on the burden of others?

A man corrupted by evil would have walked along, only looking back to see how much they were suffering. But this man…No…His weapon, cloak and suit are enough evidence to see that he is allied with many of our greatest enemies.

The five of them enter my kill zone, only a few more seconds and I can end this...

I place my sights on the Cloaked Man's chest, the darkness of his tie seeming to hide the very center of my crosshairs. I breathe in, the man continuing on as if he were alone with the world.

I let out the breath, the man still plodding along, at peace with the world.

I take another breath, the man has stopped…what has he seen?

I breath out, now ready for my shot…only now do I notice that he is looking up at me, the shadow of his hooded head masking his face…I squeeze the trigger, the great weapon bucking in my grasp, the shell that it fired speeding along at supersonic speed towards its target.

The man, in the barest instant takes hold of the scythe blade with both hands and holds it at an angle from himself, the great slug ricocheting off the soul stealing weapon and blowing a huge hole in the building several meters behind him, the ringing sound of the scythe blade reaching an unnatural pitch. The man tosses up his scythe, catching it by its haft and charging off into one of the buildings, the cart behind him in tow, the family cowering in fear from the echo of the murderous blast from my weapon.

I try to snap off another shot, but the bullet would have torn through his body, killing the family that took shelter behind him. I hold off on the shot, I have to re-position myself so I can make a shot through one of the windows of this Man's new found cover.

I move up to the roof of the building, most of the tiles half crumbled and unstable. I sprint across the roof, jumping as I reach the end, landing on the roof of the building next to mine. This building was under construction at one point, building materials lying about, ruined by the rain and the non-existent sun.

'How did he see me? How…how did he happen to glance up and see me? No…it's more than that.' I thought to myself as I ducked down to the floor below. 'He knew exactly where I was. He must be extremely powerful to be able to sense me from that far away.'

I move to one of the half-built balconies, my rifle trained on the window of the house that the five dissenters took shelter in. Though pane of glass I see the father of the family ducking into another room, but where is the cloaked man? I shift my gaze to peer through another window, still not seeing my adversary.

I stiffen as I feel a presence behind me, a moment later I hear the sound of a pistol hammer being drawn back. I slowly try to turn around, but I stop as the man says: "Stay there, your back towards me."

I stop my turning, the urge to whirl around and confront my opponent suppressed by my want to find a different angle of attack. The man orders: "Now. Drop your rifle. Back towards me three steps and turn around."

I prop my rifle up against the railing, the flimsy construct groaning at the slightest touch…Lord do I hope that it doesn't collapse. I've had to dig that rifle out of so many terrible places and I would rather not have it break on the ground far below. I start pacing backwards, measuring each step, making sure that I can get as close as possible before I turn around. My three steps are up, time to turn.

As I turn around, I see the man, a huge revolver in his left hand. He seems to not have his scythe, the weapon most likely too bulky to use in this confined space. I cannot see his face however, the inside of his cloak so dark it seems to feast on light itself. The only thing I can make out is the reflective surfaces of his shades, the cold gloss of the dark glass hiding his true intentions that lie in his eyes. But I also see him hesitate…it seems that he is taken aback by something. Now is the time to strike!

I unsheathe my sword and I strike at his neck, hoping to resolve the battle in one swift blow. But the stroke never lands, the faint sound of a dying scream and a flash of darkness blocks my blade, bright golden sparks flecking off the blade and scattering through the air, lighting up the room. I jump backwards as the darkness slashes in front of me. Now I see what stopped my blade: His Scythe.

Its blade is as dark and sharp as obsidian, yet stronger than the toughest steel. The whole weapon is evil, and the man that wields it is powerful. I have to play my hand carefully. We stand off from each other, the both of use assessing each other's strengths, predicating each other's attacks, seeking each other's weaknesses. I hold up my sword, placing my hand on the flat of the blade and I whisper a quick prayer to the Holy Steel: "May the light of God purge the wicked and blind my Opposer."

The blade begins to hum and I take up the hilt in both hands and I prepare for my strike. The sword starts glowing, small wisps of steam rising up from the white hot blade. I bring the blade forward, slashing at the air in front of me, a bright flash of light bursting forth as it slices through the air. The light fills every corner of the room, the light is bright enough to bleach the walls of their color slightly. I look away from the unadulterated light of Heaven, knowing that it is indiscriminate in its attack. Just as soon as the light flared up, it was gone, the whole area thrust back into shadow.

I gasp in surprise as I see that my Adversary is still standing, hardly phased by my attack. I take a step back, a question jumping unbidden from my lips: "How…How are you not blinded?!"

The man's hand comes out from the dark folds of his cloak and adjusts his sunglasses, his voice full of mirth as he says: "I don't wear these Shades for fashion, I'll have you know."

He dashes forward, both scythe and Smith & Wesson in hand. He slashes at me, the dark blade rippling through the air, the half-heard sound of the air screaming following in its wake. I duck under the strike and I roll into the next room, a massive slug from the murderous revolver blowing out a huge chunk of the doorframe as I just barely managed to get away.

I sprint to the other side of the room, taking cover behind a large pile of scrap wood and metal parts. I unholster my AutoMag and I rattle of all seven shots as The Man comes into the room. The Shadowy Figure holds up his hand, a deep depression of darkness forming in his palm in an instant. As the bullets cross the room to strike him, he slashes his hand out towards them, not one bullet strike him. He lets his hand drop to his side, the rattle of lead sounds from his feet as all seven slugs fall to the ground, as if they had just been removed from their cartridges. He drops his Smith and Wesson, the weapon smashing into shadows as it touches the floor. He takes hold of the scythe's handles and says coolly: "Lets fight this out. Blade against blade. Light against Shadow. It think it would be more of a fair fight, don't you think?"

I drop my handgun, the heavy caliber weapon clattering to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of wood dust. I bring up my sword and I pace back around the pile of trash, my blade held out in front of me, my whole body tensed to attack. A moment later I realize that he is just analyzing what I am doing. I have to calm down. I let my shoulders slump down slightly and I widen my stance. He shouldn't get me riled up to fight, after all, only the holy survive the darkness. But still he waits, his guard completely down as I approach him. What a cocky bastard! I scream and lunge forwards, the tip of my blade thrust towards his throat.

He skips off to the side, the sword missing him by a couple of centimeters. He slashes with the back end of the scythe, the haft racing towards my head. I bring up my sword and deflect the blade, another great shower of sparks showering from the contact of our contrasting weapons. As his blade comes off of mine I see an opening, but as soon as I consider making a strike he rolls the scythe in his hands and strikes down at me with the blade. I jump back, nearly a second too late as the great, dark blade embeds itself up to its haft in the floorboards.

But as soon as I my feet touch the ground again, he is upon me. He pulls himself along the scythe, flinging his body towards mine, a pair of dirks grasped in his hands. I slash at him, his dirks coming together in an 'X' shape as he catches the blow. He smirks, but he says nothing as he shrugs off my blade and jumps backwards, wrenching his scythe out of the floorboards, the individual slats that make up the floor coming up with the blade. He sheathes his dirks, his scythe back in his hands. 'This man is strong. No wonder he wanted to fight with his blade' I thought to myself: 'But he is still no match for me!'

I nod to myself: 'Yes, I haven't attacked him yet. It is time to show him my true strength.' I charge my enemy, my sword flashing in the half darkness. I throw a few slashes at him, prodding and feeling for how strong his defense is. He takes a half pace back, widening his stance, his scythe flicking out and batting away my blade, again golden sparks flashing away from the blades as they make contact and pull back away from each other.

I jump back as my last strike makes contact with his weapon, aware that he is just baiting me yet again. Not a moment later his Dark Blade makes a wide sweep in front of me, shadows whirling in the wake of the murderous weapon. But as his arms cross over his body, following the sweep of the weapon I see a quick opening.

I rush forward, bounding across the floor with as much speed as I could muster in such a short distance. I decide to make a strike with the pommel of my sword, aiming to knock The Man out or, at the very least, knock off his light-shielding shades. My pommel makes contact, the dull steel striking him in between his eyes, right on the bridge of his nose.

The shades break away, the dark glass shattering from the impact, a small trickle of blood running from his nostrils, the cowl of his cloak sliding back on his head. I see that he has a very thin face, one that could be called somewhat intimidating if it was seen long ago. I also notice the scar running down from his closed left eye, the scar starting just at his eye socket and cutting down and over his jaw…it must have been painful when it happened.

His eyes open up after the impact, my objective to concuss him failed, his balance quickly regained…his eyes…they…their…HIS eyes. Through the pain and slight amount of anger in this man's eyes I could see the deep grey, compassionate eyes that belonged to Him…but who they belong to now make me unsure of who I am really looking at.

I freeze from the shock of seeing those grey eyes, my mind locked on the thoughts of how this could be. The next thing that went through my mind was a flash of pain, the sound of my jaw dislocating with a sickening pop and the feel of his fist pressed against my cheek. After that…Darkness.

Through the pain, I awoke, a rhythmic thumping in my ear, the feeling of being carried awakening me. My eyes flicker open, the light of day striking my pupils. I see that I am, in fact, being carried. But it is by The Man…but…o' so gentle he carries me, my body cradled to his chest, the thumbing I hear must be the sound of his heartbeat: the sound solid, constant…and…familiar?

I fight through waves of pain to look up at him, surprised to see that he too, is looking down at me. Now I see his eyes more clearly…the anger and pain gone, curiosity in their place…and something new...is it concern…guilt maybe?

The pain takes back over, my mind telling me not to pursue the matter further and to go back to a dreamless sleep against all of my will. But as I slip away, I have no doubt that those are His eyes.

I awake again, this time for good as the pain from my jaw wakes me up again. My eyes snap open and I see a man wearing a medical mask hovering over me. I sit up quickly, my arm wrapping around the stranger's neck, my every impulse shouting to break his neck.

But my mind registers a preventive sound: A hammer being drawn back on a handgun. The rest of the room finally fills into my vision, the most important part of it being the S&W barrel set in between my eyes. The man behind it gestures for me to lie back down with the weapon:

"Now hold on. If you hurt that man in anyway, I will be forced to shoot you…He is a good friend of mine and he is a doctor. Let him look after you."

I hesitate, the Doctor frozen in my grip, waiting for the next move to be made…this man just wants to help… I have no right to take an innocent's life, no matter who he is allied with. I lay back down, the paper on the medical cot crinkling and folding underneath me. The doctor readjusts his glasses and goes back to prodding at my jaw with gloved hands. He says to me:

"Sorry for any pain that this will cause. I need to set your jaw back into its socket. Now, I won't sugar coat this, but it is not going to be pleasant for you at all. Just hold tight for me."

He places his gloved thumbs in my mouth, the latex taste making me cringe slightly. He presses his thumbs down on my teeth, his palms placed on my chin:

"Now, I am going to count to 3. At two I need you to breathe in sharply. It will help with the pain. 1…2…"

I take my breath, but as the word 'two' leaves his mouth he forces my jaw back into place, a sickening crackle and pop resounding from the violent action. I scream, but only for a bitter moment. I bite down on the howl of pain, not wanting to show my already obvious discomfort anymore.

I get a better look at the room, my pain finally fading away slightly. The room seems to be some sort of medical ward, surprisingly well maintained and well equipped. There are also a few other patients in the room, but they appear to be asleep, bandages wrapped around various parts of their bodies.

Nothing other than the occupants of the room I could not glean any more detail from the room, my vision still blurry from the fading pain…and but not having my glasses on. I roll my jaw a few times, wincing as the pain shoots back from the joint: "Where am I?" I ask: "And can I have my glasses back…I can hardly see…"

Lord, I hate asking for anything…especially from my enemies.

The Shadowy man, Revolver now gone from his grasp, steps forward. He reaches into his suit pocket and takes out my glasses, handing them to me. I take the glasses from his hand, the Doctor saying: "Let me get you some painkillers. Your jaw still needs time to heal, but if it is not too much trouble for you, I think you will still be able to eat as normally as ever."

The man steps away, pacing to the other side of the room, leaning up against the wall, staring off into the distance. It seems that he found a new set of shades, another pair set in front of his eyes, hiding what his eyes really tell about him. The doctor returns, pills and a glass of water in hand: "Here, take these."

I take the items out of his hands, examining the pills closely before I put them in my mouth, drowning them with the water from the cup. The doctor takes the cup and tosses it into the trash, asking the man: "Max. What are we going to do? She is obviously part of The Order. They will be coming for her as soon as they notice that she is missing."

The man waves away the caution: "I know. But I have some questions I have to ask her. Is she okay to move, Robert?"

The doctor, Robert, walks out of the room, sighing: "Then there is no arguing with you. She is okay to move as she pleases, but take care my friend, we have lost too many already."

The Shadowy Man…whose name is Max…Max of all names! The least intimidating and most pathetic name assigned to this man who took me down so easily! The fury of it! There is no way this man could be Him, even if he has His exact eyes. But still…when he was carrying me, the warmth and worry in his eyes…the fact that he carried me all the way here to get my jaw reset…No…he can't be Him. He wouldn't have struck me in the first place.

The man…no, Max, leans off the wall and says to me: "Come on. I have to take that family somewhere safe. And you have to come with me, the people around here are not big fans of The New Order of God, as you call it."

I stand up, but I don't speak. The less he knows about me through my words, the better. In turn have to find out more about this man…maybe…no matter how slim of a chance, he might know of 'My Love.'

The man produces a pair of handcuff from his cloak, the shadows parting as the shiny cuffs came into the light. He moves towards me and says: "I'm sorry about this, but until I know that you bear no further threat to me or the people I watch over, these stay on."

He cinches up the cuffs, the sound of the cuff pins rattling making me flinch…so many years I was bound, sold and made slave to those demented Bandits. He leads me out of the room, the two of us regrouping with that family…but I couldn't help but relive those three years.

'A thousand,' Said one voice.

'Not on your life,' Said another.

'Come on man, I ain't got more than that.' Said the first

'Bullshit,' Said the second one: "I know you run a bar in this town. You got plenty more to burn."

"Fine," Said the first voice again: "You got me there, no use to haggle any more. How much do you want for her?"

The second voice, with sick glee in his tone, says: "Excellent. I knew that this item was just too much for a man like you to resist!"

"Quite your gloating," The first voice growled: "There must be some catch. Why would you be selling a piece like this? Most people in your position would hold on to something like that."

I lose interest in the conversation. It's not like it isn't the hundredth time I've heard it, I would give anything to never hear it again though. I gasp, the pinch of the shackles binding my ankles and wrists together becoming too much for me to withstand. But as soon as the escape of air leaves my lips a fist lands in my gut, driving the rest of the air out of my lungs.

I fall to the side, trying to catch the breath that was punched from my lungs, but the burlap bag drawn over my head makes it difficult to fill my lungs back up. Even over my labored breathing, I could hear those pigs going back to discussing my price.

The first voice says: "Okay, give a me a rundown on the benefits of buying this girl."

The second voice sighs, obviously more interested in getting money than talking about it: "Since we captured her two years ago she has been a very faithful and loyal servant. She cooks, she cleans and she will do just about anything with a bit of prodding."

I hear a shuffle of footsteps and the burlap cloth is finally drawn from my head, sweet air rushing back into my grateful lungs.

The man continues, the burlap sack hanging down from his hands: "And, as you can see, she is a woman of great, almost angelic beauty."

He stops again, only to yell at me: "What are you doing? Stand up!"

I try to stand up, the shackles slowing my movements, but I collapse back to the ground. I just feel too weak to stand up. The man scowls with anger, and in the next moment a white flame of pain flicks across my cheek as he brings his palm across it. He screams with annoyance: "I said stand up, Bitch! Unless you want to eat tomorrow I suggest you stand up NOW!"

I stand up, at the urging of another slap to the face. 'It's not like you've given me food in the past 5 days anyways.' I thought to myself: 'I am sure today and tomorrow wouldn't been any different.' The other man sighs, as if the whole seen was droll and boring. The man that struck me gestures back to me with a grand flourish: "As I said, she needs prodding every once in a while."

The man saunters over to my so called 'buyer' and leans forward speaking lowly. I can only imagine what he is telling him. I lower my eyes in shame…what that man has done…what he did on that night…I shudder to think about it…no…I just have to not think about it…yes…that's it. I'll just think about how I can escape, about how I will be delivered from this corrupted chunk of Hell.

The two men step away from each other, cash exchanging hands along with a handshake. The paying man's eyes wide and a creepy grin on his face. I pray…I pray to the God above that what he is thinking shall never happen. Just like that, within ten minutes I was sold, just like some candy bar or fast food sandwich. These evil men see another life as valuable as the money that can be made off it. No more, no less. These people deserve to burn in hell!

20 minutes later I was cut from my bounds, only to be tossed in into a pin full of animal shit. My new 'owner' tossing in a shovel, gloating as he strolls away: "Now clean that up! After that you got laundry to do, food to cook, dishes to scrub, a bar floor to clean, drinkers to wait on and so many other things! HA, this is the best purchase I've ever made!"

And so I cleaned, cooked and kept the company of people so drunk they couldn't walk without hanging onto their buddies. So it went like this…for months and months. Every day I thought of taking an easy way out. I was always close to something sharp…yes…all it would take is a quick cut and a few minutes wait and I would be out of this hell hole. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't do that to Him. No matter how small the chance of Him finding out...No, I could never do that to Him.

Without any other choice I continued my servitude, as it could no longer be called something as pleasant sounding as 'work.' Through the pain of the daily beatings and constant harassment I managed to live on.

Then there came time for change.

One day was particularly bad. One of my ribs was broken during my 'master's' rage after I dropped and broke one of his plates. From then on any sort of movement or breath was a spike of sheer agony in my side. But work on I had to. That was the only way I knew I could survive to the next day.

Later that evening, while in delirium from the pain and lack of food, I had a dream.

An Angel of the Lord came to visit me.

He said: "Sister. Why are you so down? Why are you so low to the earth in this state?"

I look up to the visage, awestruck and silent. Wondering what gave me the privilege to be in the presence of such a divine being.

"Why do you sit so solemnly, with pain in your heart and body?"

He reached down, placing a warm and gentle hand on my shoulder: "You have the power, Sister, to rise above this darkness. You are innocent. You are the salt of the earth, Sister. So rise up. The darkness has no power over you unless you give into it. So rise, the Lord's Will is with you."

Then I woke.

Yes. I won't let the darkness control me anymore. It's time for me to rise up.

I shake the memory from my mind. I can't stand to remember the darkness that came afterwards. The pain and the blood that I shed. I never want to be in that state of mind again.

By now, the man…Max…and the small family and I have entered the sewers, moving along one of the passages, what used to be sewage is now runoff water from the storms that occasionally bombard the town.

I am sitting on the cart, pulled by Max, the family crowded around him, looking at him with gratitude and some sort of silent awe.

Max looks over his shoulder and asks: "You've been pretty quiet since you woke up. Something eating at you?"

I look up, his hood drawn back up over his head. I wonder why he wants to shelter himself in shadow. How could a man as seemingly clement as this man wish to say in darkness?

I say quietly: "I just have nothing to say…"

The man turns back around, continuing to walk along, the cart pulled behind him, the family walking with him: "That's surprising. Considering who you were allied with, I would of thought that you would be berating me with all of that talk of being pure and me being a creature that should be wiped off the face of the earth."

I look down, averting my gaze from his back: 'No point in drawing myself into conversation with him.' I thought: 'I will just wait and see. I need to know if it really is Him…'

The man rounds a corner, the wagon and the family following after him. He sighs in a huff: "Well, I guess I can't make you talk. But I definitely have some questions for you when we get to where we are going."

The father of the family lightly touches Max's shoulder: "Where exactly are we going, Sir Max? We've been in these sewers for about twenty minutes now."

Max continues walking, the light filtering through the storm drains acting like streetlights in this subterranean pathway: "We are heading to my Safe House. There are many other people there, so you won't be alone. Also, there is no need to call me 'Sir'. I'm no knight. I'm just Max, that is all."

The father nods, his last doubt and trouble resolved.

'That is just like something He would say.' I realized with a slight shock: 'There is no way I could have forgotten what he looks like…but I have. How could he look so different from what I pictured of from what little I could remember?'

Soon we approach a dead end in the sewers, a ladder leading up to the surface. Max ties the rope to the first rung of the ladder, turning to the family after he does so: "We are going to have to come back for this later. As of now it might be too dangerous to lug all of this stuff up there right here and now."

I get off the cart, frowning to myself: 'How could he know that it would be dangerous?' I muse: 'It seems that just by going up the ladder we would be in his safe house.'

But the family agrees without speaking a word against their savior.

Max walks over to me, staring down at me as he gets closer. Only now do I realize that my full height is only at his shoulder level...he is exactly the same height as Him.

He pulls back the hood of his cloak, his scarred face coming into view once more. He holds out his hand, saying: "I am going to have to carry you up the ladder. You would just be too slow with those cuffs on."

I scoff: "Then take them off if it's going to be that big of a problem."

Max laughs: "Now she speaks. And no, those are not coming off until I am sure that you are not going to try anything."

I scowl, trying to cross my arms over my chest, the handcuffs stopping me from completing the gesture…so much from making a point: "I'm not going to do anything, you can trust me on that."

He pauses for a moment. He draws out one of his dirks from the inside of his robes, striking the handcuff chains apart: "Eh, that sounds reasonable to me."

I stand, shocked: "Wh-What? Just like that…just like that you believe me…wh-what? I don't understand…there wasn't even a point in putting them on me in the first place!"

Max motions for me to go up the ladder, saying in a coy tone: "What are you going to do anyways? I have your weapons and I would imagine that you won't go far without them. Now go up the ladder, we need to get out of this sewer quickly."

I start to ascend the ladder, asking: "Why's that?"

My question is answered by the sound of a Zed growling from further down the tunnel…This man is nearly uncanny with the calls that he makes…almost like He was before we got separated.

Soon, all of us have clambered up the ladder, the sounds of the demonic creatures rummaging around for us in the dark echoing from the dark abyss below us. Max drags the manhole cover back over the opening, muting the hungry growls from the shambling beings below.

We are now in some dark alleyway, hovering over the closed drain hatch. Max stands up, stern command taken up in his tone now: "I want all of you to stay right behind me. When I motion for you to stop or move somewhere, you do it without hesitation. Do what I say and you all will make it to the Safe House alive."

He moves down the alley, a dirk grasped in his right hand. As per his orders we follow, my handcuff chains rattling and clanking with each step I take alongside the family.

We make it to the end of the dark alley, a small little plaza sitting ahead of us. Max stops just before the shadows of the alley end, me and the family stopping as well.

From here I can see that the plaza was centered on entertainment. Across from our alley I can see what appears to be some sort of theater, the posters for movies withered and falling from their stands. One of the few that I could make out was advertising a movie called 'White Chicks'. Just by looking at the poster I could tell it was once a horrible movie.

But more important to me was the small horde of Abominations in the square. They shamble around, their skin hanging off of their bodies in flaps, huge swaths of their bodies flesh-less. They look just the same as that Demon that tackled down Him, their arms fastened to their waists by a web of leather belts and the sleeves of their strait jackets.

Max moves forwards, hugging the wall as he disappears from sight, a final hand motion telling us to stay put. A moment later one of the shrieking calls of the Abominations rings out, Max obviously spotted. The family edges past me, hoping to get a glimpse at Max somewhere at the front of the sprinting horde. I follow with them, wondering if even he could hope to survive the mass melee of the warped and vicious creatures.

But as we see his dark cloak, the whole horde is wiped down by the spontaneous hail of gunfire coming from the same place that Max was heading. The rounds seemed to blend into one another, the sharp reports from the gunfire blending into a continuous roar from the sheer intensity of the fire.

And in another moment it was over, the abominations dead, small rivers of blood running from the small holes now newly formed in each of their foreheads. Max stands at the fore of the destroyed horde, Five-SeveNs grasped in either hand, the slides racked back as he loaded new magazines into each weapon. The family rushes to him, chattering with excitement at this unreal feat.

I hang back…my eyes wide with surprise as I see a stray shadow flicker around his hands and then disappear: 'This is exactly what He told me about.' I thought in the back of my head as I followed along with the family: 'What he hoped to achieve on that night…so long ago…the powers owned by those 4 terrible Gods…'

Max turns, the family following closely along. He points to the theater, the steel shutters sliding up as he ascends the stairs to the building. He opens the glass doors behind the steel barricade and with a great, half playful flourish, he says: "Welcome to Safe Haven, A place protected by myself and myself alone. The only place lying between the oppressive light and the crushing darkness. A place of pleasant shadow. Welcome…Welcome to your new home."

He tosses a glance over at me, but it was all I could do to not fall to the ground in tears. I amble along, my face as deadpan as I could make it. 'There is no doubt now,' I thought as I step into the building, Max closing the door and following behind me: 'It's Him…I've finally found...Him…'

Author's Note:

Again: Another Thank You i must give to anyone that reads this story.

Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed it and I also hope that you will leave a review for me (Cause, lets face it, i'm not perfect until you guys think i am [Hue, hue, narcissism]). Tell me what i did good, and tell me what i did terribly, because i know i've done both multiple times in this story.

Additionally:

I dedicate this chapter to My Father and My Step GrandFather: Happy Birthday you two, i hope to see you guys again sometime soon! (Its not like they read any of my stuff, but i still mean what i said and I know they support me just the same as they always do.)

I also dedicate this chapter to the Madness: Project Nexus 2 Forums, because today (July 22nd, 2015) is the one year mark of the forum's opening! Good luck to all you guys who have submitted writings alongside mine, Jebs do I know your work is far better than mine and I hope to see you get the first prize in the Writing Thread! Again, Good Luck! :D

Additionally Also:

I have stuff on FictionPress .Net as well, if you guys want to check that stuff out. So far it is just a few of my short stories, but more stuff is going on over there as well. It is all under the same username as i have on this site (Max Shockley), so not to worry about digging through hundreds of others to find your good old Papa Shockley.

Thank you guys and see you again next time!

~Max