Sugar, spice and all that's good… I think in that case we can replace it with water, heat and a miraculously intact kettle in the middle of an apocalyptic war zone open to anyone or anything that could do some damage.

I guess small miracles are still possible, if you believe in that kind of bullshit… although I think it must be better than facing the alternative…

We're alone, and it's not going to be a little miracle that's going to stop a replica sniper hitting you in the face or some of that geek paranormal shit crawling through the neighborhood like something out of Japanese horror from having fun with your limbs.

"If there are any limbs left, these little things tend to have an appetite… an appetite, heh." I didn't fight the sudden onslaught of invasive memories of the psychic link that momentarily filled my vision, I just watched as the operative got his eyes gouged out and eaten right away, before it all faded away.

"Spencer had his eyes eaten, I should be sad but I'm not. Knowing a person only in flashes and not exactly physically tends to mess things up." The kettle began to produce smoke signaling the long-awaited tea time. "Besides, he was a jealous idiot himself. Playing the lone wolf with a business card that said 'I'm the badass' was what made him end up dead in an alley. Idiot."

I filled the metal mug with the hot liquid, the effort of finding this thing and making sure to get rid of all the germs present in the accumulated dust was finally paid off when I felt the invigorating sensation of the hot drink touch my lips and down my throat. Hot and steaming like the biblical hell we live in now I think. However, there is nothing biblical about it. More like as if the dreams of all the inmates of the nearest asylum had come to life.

Which is kind of true, I believe. After all… she is mentally broken, just like all things born of the anguish-filled world of her own head, just like us… like me…

"Jesus Christ, aren't we the saddest creatures you've ever seen? I'm almost crying just thinking about it. Almost." I took another sip of hot tea, slower this time, enjoying the taste of the thing and the heat of the smoke against my face.

My face… my reflection in the hot water of the cup in my hand. The dead gray eyes reflection of a man with a face full of dirt and blood mixed in a kind of camouflage created naturally by the winding streets of this city turned into a horror movie plot.

It's funny, anyone who saw me would mistake me for a ghost, dead in action and now roaming the streets forever in search of retribution.

"The ghost with the devil's eyes… as much as I like how melodramatic it sounds, it's a good thing I'm still breathing and that most civilians have already been killed. This leaves the road open for freer shooting practice. ." I gulped down the rest of the tea, placing the last intact piece of this house in the sink carefully. "This cup survived a nuclear explosion and all that paranormal chaos until I found it, give household objects the same respect you give your work tools."

A thud from across the room echoed through the ruined space of the apartment as the rifle I'd positioned myself in the corner fell to the floor. At other times I would say she was here, trying to mess with me. But among so many death experiences, explosions and severed arteries, I would say that gravity is just a bitch that hasn't found the right guy to put her on all fours and teach geometry.

"And speaking of which." I picked up said sniper rifle from the ground, taking a moment to check the schuller ldr 50 once more, out of concern. "You can't be too careful, especially when you only have one last bullet for such a big boye."

Placing the rifle along the row of equipment on the floor that I unfortunately have to check, I sat against the most intact part of the wall of this shithole and began my inspection. I can almost hear my drill instructor shouting 'the real operative takes care of his gun as well as his own wife!' Jesus Christ the guy was the real modern Viking, he would probably kill me if he knew how I had to reuse parts of all the paraphernalia lying around.

"We don't have a lot of time to take care of our wives at the end of the world, so I don't think our guns either." A patten pk470 assault rifle, an at-14 pistol, my last grenade and the detonator.

Oh, and the good old universal tool for all the different occasions a man of substance might find himself on a bad day's work in hell. I reached for my belt, removing the knife whose blade still held some dried blood from that phase commander. Who knew cyber bastards have a very specific tiny point in that barrier that you can hit if you're careful enough.

"Like sticking a knife in your groin…you think the family jewels are so well protected…until the guy you thought you had liquid with that bombing comes up and sticks it in there with what you don't want." I tucked the blade back into its scabbard and began the process of disassembling, checking, cleaning, and reassembling each of the weapons in front of me, with the exception of the lethal explosive object I kept in my boot.

Assemble, disassemble and repeat the process. It's almost… ritualistic, a preparation for the big one-on-one battle that viewers never imagined would happen because the people involved had

Appropriate enough, except I don't have anything better to do and today seems like a good day to die.

"And here we go." I stowed the pistol in its place in the belt holster next to the knife before going to the patten assault rifle, which I hit the magazine before grabbing the sniper rifle and positioning myself at the window to my right. "And here we go for another morning in wonderland. Recess is over, time for work. Good morning Fairportt."

Fairport… even after… how long have I been surviving in this wasteland desert? Weeks? Months? The time gets so weird with the whole death waiting around every corner thing and the shootout with the typical hired gun that eventually you lose track. When there is no more day, no night, no cold, no heat, no rest or peace. Just the distorted, corrupted and deteriorating scenery of a city literally haunted by black clouds and a crimson red sky reflecting the bloodshed taking place in the streets.

"And in the end, this is my house. You can run away like a spoiled little girl who doesn't want to go to prom because she doesn't have the right dress, but sooner or later we all have to go home." I lined up the scope crosshairs, making the zoom balanced enough for me to get an accurate shot. Last bullet, no room for mistakes or whimpers. "It has a certain value, and even though the link we shared only revealed everything we went through here only years later, it's still a big shit hole with greedy pigs and drama."

"The perfect place for monsters like us. No more foreplay now, step out of the shadows and come play with your little grandson, you decrepit and dirty piece of shit!"

I watched the street below through the scope, keeping my eyes well on the lookout for anything but the wreckage, piles of rubble or the catastrophic atmosphere of the landscape, and my ears alert for anything but the sound of gunfire and carnage resonating in a kind of diabolical melody.

This little game of solitaire seemed to go on for an eternity before the first signs that the main guest had arrived came in the form of an eerie silence that plunged the entire neighborhood into a limbo of stillness, eliminating the smells of sulfur and blood in the air with a deadly cold breeze.

The smell of death.

Patience is a virtue, which can often be tested at inconvenient times. This is starting to be one of those, as it was just this uncomfortable silence and the cool breeze in the air before the first indications that the big boggart had arrived in the neighborhood subtly manifested in a dark corner, where the shadows began to move like if it had a life of its own, slowly forming an oily black smoke from which the bastard finally emerged.

"Hello Harlan."

Maybe I'm not the only one who's been preparing for this dance after all, because as soon as the motherfucker's slender, crooked form stepped out of the shadows, his faceless head swung straight toward me. I imagine he'd be staring at me if he had eyes, so I just gave him a sneer before cocking the rifle and starting to line up the shot.

The Creep, in turn, revealed its inhuman mouth to give a primal roar before it started running towards my position like an ant attracted to sugar. The sugar in the case being my psychic signature that I'm sure this thing wants so badly.

"There is no free lunch here, you shit." I kept my finger close to the trigger steady, waiting patiently as this undead bastard accelerated, slowly increasing in size with each step.

Tilted its head back at a totally unnatural angle in what could only be preparation for another roar. I felt the flow of energy flowing through my brain to my entire body as a larger portion focused on my eyes, producing the familiar effect of distorting the edges of my vision into a faint red color and slowing down time to a supernatural slow pace

The Creep's disproportionately growing form was highlighted by the slow-mo effect, allowing me to clearly see the disgusting bastard moving at reduced speed through the scope of the rifle. I waited until it opened its mouth wide, her gift to me allowing me to enjoy the small window of time with utmost precision. Pulling the trigger, I watched the bullet travel toward the source of our pain before hitting the apparition right in the mouth and piercing through the skull.

"That one was for her, you son of a bitch." I stopped the slow-mo and watched the Creep disappear in a cloud of smoke, with only a pool of blood and brains left in place. "Now cut the suspense, I know a shot like that wouldn't put you down. The various bastards crawling around would have already done it if that were the case."

As if in response, the sound of wood breaking sounded from the floors below. On any given day I would be betting my money on anomalies or specters, but today is not just any day and I can faintly hear the barely perceptible crawling sound that only one freak out of a million of them inhabiting this city makes.

"Bring your ghostly ass up here Harlan." I discarded the schuller, replacing it with the fully loaded patten assault rifle whose scope I lined up with the door. "Let's dance something a little more old-fashioned, up close and personal. Like men, or in your case a cachectic specter of a man."

As the little shit approached my floor, the less bothered about being subtle it became. The silent crawl was replaced by heavy footsteps, wood crunching and the occasional beastly grunt from the sick bastard who couldn't resist making one last scene when finally made it to the door.

The wave of silence settled again, this time inside the building. It took a lot of control not to let my burning desire to see this monster bleed make me load the door with guns blazing. No, patience is the key. Think of it as a staring contest, whoever blinks first loses.

And I've never blinked, not even once since I had to face the abyss buried inside her mind.

I waited with my finger on the trigger, eyes focused on the door and ears intent on my surroundings. Soon this thing proved to be very good at our little game of solitaire, as the beastly growls returned and it began slamming relentlessly against the door, which succumbed to Creep's advances and allowed the bastard to enter the room.

And straight to my shooting zone.

I let the slow-mo do the work and slow things down once more, not even this bastard's unnatural agility allowed it to escape the bursts of fire from my patten assault rifle. Even as it leapt to the ceiling, I continued firing burst after burst, watching as the flesh was slowly marred by the hail of bullets that didn't last much longer when the rifle clicked empty.

Shit.

The Creep took this as a chance for a lunge and leapt from the ceiling at me with its jaw open and claws outstretched. My improved speed allowed me to roll out of the way before being forced to slow-mo off to conserve my energy, which left me exposed to a claw swipe from the apparition that sent me flying against the wooden wall that collapsed onto the impact.

"Motherfucker!" I grabbed a new clip of ammo without missing a beat, reloading, turning on my reflexes and stepping out of the pile of debris to return more bullets in the face of this thing.

During what felt like a long sparring match, we fought in this same style. It would attempt a violent onslaught that I would avoid using my superior speed and reflexes, retaliating with several rounds that were starting to seem to have little effect other than pissing off the sucker and making it a lot uglier with the new look of shredded flesh and bullet holes. Our dancing was interrupted when it decided it had enough and teleported in front of me.

With the distance between us closed, even in a slow-mo state I barely had time to avoid the Creep's claw strike that hit my shoulder and sent a sensation of pain throughout the region, but I had time to dodge the second strike and pulling out my knife, which I used to inflict a cut that caught him in the chest area full of bullet holes. I tried to handle the rifle and get a headshot, but grabbed my arm holding the gun and twisted it until it exposed my fracture.

I moaned and cringed in pain, at least momentarily until I roared defiantly at the demon in front of me seconds before putting the bone back in place. By this time I didn't care about the pain anymore, it was just fuel for my rage. And using that rage I violently stabbed the distorted apparition of the project Origins supervisor in the head.

The sounds of pain produced by the Creep put a smug smile on my face, which only grew wider when I felt the blade slowly pierce through flesh and lodge in any kind of bone this thing might have even though it wasn't a living thing. In return, the bastard hit me with a swipe to my chest that sent me flying again across the room…

Towards the window… on the fifth floor where we are.

"Fuck-" I crashed through the window glass, the shards of which were trapped against my skin. Gravity took over soon after as the slow-mo passed and I plummeted all the floors below.

The air left my lungs as I landed right on top of something hard and metallic. A brief look told me it was the remains of a car among all the damned things. Just what I needed. I think falling on the asphalt would have been more fucking comfortable... I gave the pain a kind of middle finger when I decided I could feel it later when I wasn't face to face with the closest thing this world has to the devil, getting off the top of the wrecked car and staggering the farthest I could of the building.

"Here's a little gift from me, Harlan." I landed next to a pole as my body decided it was the best it could take. Breathing heavily and keeping my focus on the task at hand and not my pain, I reached into my pocket and grabbed it. the big one. "I've never been very romantic, but I think even I know when it's time to heat things up to keep the flame alive. Let's lighten up, big boy."

I squeezed the detonator and watched as the building was blown away by the large fireball from the inside out, sending lots of debris flying through the neighborhood. Days without sleep searching, risky attacks on ATC convoys, hours of positioning those explosives in the right places... it was finally worth all the effort. Plan completed, bonfire lit and a disgusting spirit served on the skewer.

"Not bad for a day's work. Hah-" My back throbbed with pain and a burning sensation in my chest region made me see the big deep claw mark in it. "Better try not to laugh, it was a real number that sucker did on me. I'm barely keeping it together."

I stayed where I was for a while, just watching the flames consume what was left of the building and produce the inviting, destructive intense heat that only a good amount of incendiary explosives can create. It was a beautiful sight, a sight that somehow mirrored the reality of this ghost town: all of us here breathe, fight and survive in the midst of a blazing fire of destruction and chaos that is a bad day away from burning the rest of the world.

"All because a maniac decided it was a good idea to play god and lock his own daughter in a lab." I scrambled to my feet, caring little about my injuries or how debilitating the pain was going to be. "Guys…I don't know if you can hear this, but it's over. I got him, it's over."

"Are you sure?"

…. Son of a bitch!

I didn't take any chances, I simply whipped out my at-14 and tried a shot that never came close to hitting Creep's head as the thing wasted no time in hitting me with a backhand that sent me flying into the wrecked car. The pain, the dizziness, lasted as long as it came, as I had to pull myself together when the asshole teleported right in front of me, hitting me repeatedly in the face until everything became a blur of a blurry scenario born of a concussion.

Something strong and sharp wrapped around my throat and I found myself being suspended in midair by an abysmal force. It was a hard hit, and everything feels like a confusing spinning wheel, but due to whatever enhancements I inherited from my brother, my head bounced back from the blow just in time to allow me to see the Creep's open jaw about to swallow my head.

"Not today… you slender bastard!" I reached for the grenade miraculously still in my belt, and in an act of anger, pain and a metaphorical middle finger, I pulled the pin and punched the Creep in the throat, which clamped its jaw around my forearm. "I don't have pepper, but I hope the gunpowder fills your palate!"

He struggled at first, trying to push me away. But for a change I ended up deciding we were pretty good together and just kept holding the grenade inside this bastard until the explosion sent us flying in opposite directions. My vision turned blurry and red for an instant before my senses registered what had happened and my world filled with pain. A glance at my right hand revealed the bloody damage, burst fingers, a charred and dipped hand, and an agonizing sensation.

For the first time I didn't fight the screams of pain, I just lay on the floor and let it all out for…a few seconds? I don't know, I just know that I sent all this pain to the back of my mind when the Creep's carcass started to move, making me double my efforts to stand.

"You really don't know when to die, do you?" I stared at the apparition slowly rising to my feet, watched its wounds heal and erase the signs of our struggle, except for the battered and blown head revealing the ghostly face of our tormentor.

Harlan Wade's face, looking at me with an anger and malice so burning I could tell it was a reflection of my own gaze. For even now face to face with him, I feel nothing but contempt and a homicidal desire for the man and everything he represents even though he's already dead.

Screw this.

I drew the pistol again as the Creep-Wade charged at me again, my finger moved to the trigger and I got ready for our last dance together.

"ARRRGHHH! AAAAAAAAH!"

I averted my gaze from the disgusting spirit to the horizon at the sound of the sudden female scream echoing through the city, bringing with it a great wave of destructive and volatile crimson energy leaving a trail of chaos in its wake.

That moment of distraction made me forget about the threat in front of me and I activated the slow-mo when the Creep was inches from my face. I took aim at his head and prepared to pull the trigger, but the surge of psychic energy not only swept the streets of Fairport but also my senses as I was hit, plunging into darkness.

Crescent Nebula cluster, Terminus system. Day: unknown. Time: unknown.

A small object floating in the middle of the conjunction of stars and the dark void of the Milky Way was picked up by the cruiser's sensors navigating the system. Though only trivial compared to the problems the ship's crew was facing, the sudden red glow that spread just before the signal appeared made greed get the better of two crewmen who sent a probe desperately in need of repair, in search of what they imagined to be their new source of credits.

"Here we go!" The batarians waited with wide eyes in anticipation, needle teeth bared as a smile graced their faces as the airlock snapped open. "Let's take a look at… this.

The two pirates' excitement faded, giving way to frustration and then a curiosity to know where the hell what was in front of them had come from. For it wasn't some downed ship's container or any other valuable asset that might have lived up to their expectations, but the battered and decrepit body of a human male.

Disappointing to say the least. Trying to understand how it got out there became less and less of a priority as they both looked at the black sweater full of dust and random holes, the tactical worn pants, and the dark boots that make up the deceased's garment. they doubted it could have anything of value beyond the one thing they could make a profit.

"That sucks, to say the least."

"You said it was a good catch, your fault."

"I said it might be a good catch. The sudden energy readings were high to say the least. And then I see something floating adrift, can't blame me for thinking it was a good thing."

"Ok Mr Navigator, what do we do with this?"

"It's still intact and I doubt it misses something one that shouldn't be missing. Let's take it downstairs and see what we can save for the next time we visit Omega.

They put an arm around each shoulder and began moving it to the lower decks of the ship. With the crew on alert and trying to "fix" the problem with the merchandise, they found no one to poke their noses into their business and quickly arrived at a dark, dirty room as unkempt as any other part of this hijacked cruiser. The only source of light came from the ceiling high above the only table in the room, where they unceremoniously dumped the body.

"Son of a bitch is heavy."

"I just hope whatever we can salvage out of this makes it worthwhile, the captain will kill us when he finds out."

"If he finds out, he's been so pissed off about the whole merchandise situation that I doubt he'll notice if we make a little mess down here." He crouched over the human form, eyeing the dust-stained garments and other impurities before going into the pants pockets.

"Speaking of which, how long do you think they'll be able to keep our people off?"

"Not much, most of the people there are malnourished and too injured to do anything about it. The biggest problem is that Quarian girl, the bitch is a clean shot with a shotgun and knows how to do damage with tech. I heard Ramires got his ass electrocuted by her drone."

"Ramires is a two-eyed softie."

"That's what I said." He pointed with a smile, which led to a laugh they both shared before focusing on the task at hand.

"Well, let's do it." he said, reaching for an object attached to a scabbard that turned out to be a double-edged sword with the blade blackened with black blood staining it. "Now that's cute."

"What?"

"Nothing, just thinking out loud." He answered the batarian before putting the knife away with him. "He doesn't look like he's got anything but a dirty sweater from the waist up."

"It wouldn't hurt to see if he has any teeth."

"Yeah, probably not." He was about to reach for his head before he felt something hard beneath his shirt and held up by something around his neck. A quick glance revealed the tag. "I think we have one alliance dog here."

"What?"

"I found this here." He indicated the tag in hand that he stared at most closely. "I can't read a thing, but it sure is military."

"What would a alliance dog be doing adrift in space?" The question had no chance of being answered as a tremor shook the entire structure of the ship and alarm sounds resounded across the deck, sweeping away any hope that the situation would be resolved quickly. The fact that the flashlight on the two batarians' omni-tool didn't produce the same level of illumination didn't help alleviate the tension.

Which only got worse when their common came to life.

"Everyone who's listening to this, get your ass to the engineering deck now if you still want to keep breathing!" A voice harsh and spurting with drops of anger rang through the common of both of them, making them fall silent as the captain continued. "That bitch is going to fry the engines, if she makes it I'll have all of your heads hanging in my cabin! You're all replaceable meat but not this cruiser! So move!

"We better get going."

"Just give me a second, I'll save this here with me. I can always make up a good story later."

"Yeah, whatever." He looked as best he could over his companion's shoulder close to the body, a frown forming on the Batarian's face as he noticed something odd. "Is it just the light playing tricks or does he look better?"

"Do not be ridiculous." Despite the vehement response, he himself couldn't help but feel annoyed when he noticed the subtle improvement in the deceased's state: it seemed that the healthy color seemed to be slowly returning, as well as the entire physical composition of the muscles, which previously could be compared to that of a decaying corpse.

Grabbing the chain that held the tag around the neck of the human carcass, the batarian prepared to rip the object off and claim his prize, before his hand was suddenly gripped hard enough for him to feel the armor plates pressing down around the wrist that he found himself unable to get out of the grip.

His four eyes now wide with shock traveled all the way down the arm of the hand holding him until he found himself staring into two pairs of opaque gray eyes belonging to the now alive and fully conscious human in front of him. The human looking at him with a murderous intent so raw it sent shivers down the spine of the batarian who tried in an act of fear to lash out with the knife.

At least before fingers pierced his top two pairs of eyes, making him scream in agony as his eyeballs were practically squeezed in and crushed into a mess.

The first reaction of the other batarian in the room was to draw his weapon and fire, accidentally putting his mate out of his agony as the man used him as a shield before disappearing like a blur into the darkness. The pirate fired frantically against movements in the shadows of the room before being shoved against the door, having his gun pulled out of his grip and something sliding down his windpipe.

The slaver desperately tightened his throat as the blood began to flow in dangerous proportions. The flashlight beam illuminated the figure standing in front of him, giving one last glimpse of his killer, aiming with his gun before hitting four shots at his four pairs of eyes.s.

He watched the lifeless body of the monster in front of him fall through the door and for a moment he stood there, waiting for the thing to rise in a last-ditch attempt to put up a fight, but it didn't. When it felt safe, he made his way through the door, sweeping both sides of the hallway with the unknown-shaped pistol he'd taken from the creature.

What the hell? He wondered as he looked at the corpses and all the ruined metallic setting but at the same time super technological surrounding him, trying to organize his disorganized thoughts and get a big picture of what was going on, until his vision slowly began to get distorted and changed.

He didn't fight when everything changed to a long vision of a hall full of apparitions in crimson armor with a devilish grin full of pointy teeth, laughing and bragging as they held chains around the necks of several people in a horrible state, pleading and begging for mercy only for their tormentors to cause them even more pain.

The scene was then engulfed in flames that consumed everything around it until the entire landscape was like a biblical hell. And in the midst of the flames, the small figure of a little girl with red eyes from hell, wearing her signature red dress, walked over to him, who dropped to his knees to allow her tiny hand to caress his head tenderly.

"Kill them, kill them all."

Her whisper echoed through his mind as his surroundings returned once more to the strange strange new place, just in time for him to see the group that ranged from the same four-eyed creatures as before with a different skin color, to one species of creatures. with a birdlike look with a long bangs and even the familiar human face, all wearing the same suit with metal plates walking down the hall with drawn guns.

"You know, I still don't quite understand how I got here, what this place is or what some of you are." He inhaled from his seated position, letting the scent of fresh blood from nearby corpses fill his nostrils, awakening sensations that had felt numb for years as the electrifying spark of adrenaline raced up and down his spine. "But I think I got a much clearer overall picture of things going on here."

A round of the forward group of pirates was fired at him, who watched the round in the form of a slug of energy travel at a super reduced speed due to the activation of his reflexes that allowed him to move his head to the side, avoiding the round with a bored sigh.

"It's just another Monday with a different bunch of assholes to put a bullet in the head." He returned with a shot of his own, which unlike the previous one did not miss the head of the human who fell to the ground dead when the round of mass accelerator hit the center of the forehead.

They opened fire, trying and failing to hit the man who dodged the rounds with blurring speed as he retaliated with accurate shots that didn't miss their targets. A mess of gunfire, blood, screams, and chaos erupted in the hallways of that deck, and now there was an killer with enhanced reflexes on the loose in a cruiser full of pirate slavery scum he wouldn't mind eliminating.