Monday, November 9, 2009
Aceon lit down in Kings Row, her heightened senses picking up the sounds of gunshots. That wasn’t unusual in the Row, but here, in the farthest north of the area, it was. She scanned the area with her super-sight, her vision picking out the rats in the crates before lighting on something beyond. Then she smelled it – blood.

She dashed around the corner of the abandoned warehouse and saw a man there, lying in a pool of blood. Suddenly, she saw that purple aura around her, the aura that preceded her seizures. No, she thought, not now, I need to help this man—

She collapsed, as if a puppetmaster had cut her strings. Usually she would come out of these seizures feeling drained and disoriented, but she would be able to function and continue on with her duties. This time, she didn’t wake up.

If anyone had been in the area around them, one would have seen a glowing purple orb suspended in the air above her. It hovered along and stopped over the man’s stomach. It landed on it.

The human was alive, but barely. Its heart beat once…once…the purple ball went to the man’s heart and touched his chest, seeping into a wound that was there. Once…once…once-once.

Who are you? Came a telepathic voice that surprised the orb.

The purple orb pressed deeper into the man’s chest. I am Nictus. You are injured.

Why are you helping me?

The orb did not answer, and fully seeped into the wound. The wound sealed behind it, and immediately the orb understood who the man was, and why he was lying here in his own blood. The orb, now spread throughout the human’s body, superimposed upon his flesh, healed the wounds, spit out the bullets, and made the man breathe again.

Morgan Thomas opened his eyes, now tinged indigo from their former blue. He took deep breaths, smelling the blood on the ground. He looked over to see a girl lying limp on the ground nearby.

Who are you? He asked the question telepathically again, to whatever it was that was in his body now.

I am called Sable. I am here to heal you.

Why?

Dare he give his host the true reason?

But his host seemed to read his intentions – She was useless to you?

Sable waited. We have time to discuss it, he said, and pulled a blanket of death over their eyes. For all intents and purposes, Morgan Thomas was dead.


Two months later…

Stan had just finished his rounds, checking on the gravesites, when he heard a rumbling come from a few yards behind him. He turned to see a headstone moving, and the plot of land below it growing bigger, and bigger – then a concrete slab flew off through the dirt, landing just a few feet away from him.

He was too frightened to scream, when he saw the huge dwarf form of the Kheldian come crawling out of the vault. His mind registered “Goth Kheldian,” and he almost burst out laughing, he was so terrified. The Kheldian cleared the vault and lit its purple eyes on Stan. After wetting his pants, there wasn’t much else he could do but run. He couldn’t even do that.

It roared at him, slashed the air in front of him, threateningly. Then it approached, and Stan finally had the sense to turn and run. He tripped over a headstone and went sprawling onto another grave. The Kheldian advanced. Then it reached down and touched him – making him suddenly cold and pass out.

The Kheldian shifted forms, turning into a man in a police uniform, sans hat. Didn’t realize they bury you with all your clothes, he said to Sable.

We know what we want, Sable said, returning to the task at hand. I have my vengeance, and you have yours.

Let’s work on yours first, Sable. He cracked his knuckles. I’m going to need the practice.

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