Touch the World

Part Three: Surprise!

he pungent aromas of coffee, fresh bread, and myriad, flavorful cheeses floated out of the cafe, bathing the passers-by in the ambiance of another time and place. This time and place, specifically, was early 20th century France. The street was not crowded, but nor was it empty. Early-morning pedestrians, dressed in fashions that spanned at least a 50-year period in either direction, nodded and smiled at each other in the polite manner of aristocrats, intellectuals and diplomats. The cafe's deck was home to a small collection of quaint tables, only one of which was occupied. Two gentlemen sat across from one another, drinking coffee and nibbling on fresh croissants onto which liberal amounts of butter had been spread.

One of the men clearly did not belong there. His simple clothing. was almost a hundred years out of place, and the way that he kept glancing curiously at the non-sunlight beaming over the horizon marked him as newcomer. But no one approached to challenge his presence, and his companion... older in years but younger in appearance... did not seem to care.

"...a fair amount of adjustment..." said the companion. "That's putting it mildly. But then, you Englishmen have always had the most amusing penchant for understatement. Natural comedians, the lot of you."

"Well, I must admit... none of it is quite what I expected. I think that's the most troubling aspect of the whole affair... not knowing what to expect. It's not like before-"

"HA! There he goes again with the dry humor! Of course its not like before, old chap... you ARE dead, after all."

"That's not the troubling part," Donovan sighed. "I think I've dealt with it that... accepting it... quite well. But now it seems there's an entirely new set of rules, and I don't have the slightest idea what they are."

"You're doing fine," said the other gentleman.

"Am I?" Donovan replied quickly. "I don't think so. I remember Luther being so much.... better."

"Ahh, but Luther had a different style about him... a flair all his own. You can't hope to be the same kind of Guide that he was. But you can be just as good. Or better."

"Or worse," Donovan added.

"Or worse," his companion confirmed. "All up to you, really."

"And I think that's the road I'm headed down."

"Donovan, you've kept your charge alive through his first few encounters. The first three or four...those are the most critical, the most dangerous. You got him through."

"Did I?"

"He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Yes, but not because of anything I've done. Brooks is..." Donovan was at a loss for words.

"Lucky?" his companion offered.

"Best luck I've ever seen," said Donovan.

"Yes, lucky to have YOU as a Guide."

Donovan shook his head and looked down at his food. He'd finished his croissant four times already, yet there it was on his plate... still untouched. He picked it up and took a bite. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted...even better than the LAST bite he'd taken. He swallowed the morsel and felt it vanish on the way to his stomach. He would never be full here.... but then, he would never be hungry either. He wondered if it would be the same further on... past the Gates...

"I will admit," said the other gentleman. "You've been operating at a disadvantage. You were without a Guide for a long time, Donovan. Luther never had a chance to pass on certain things that need to be passed on. The things that I passed on to him were lost along with him."

"And that is exactly what I'm talking about," said Donovan. "I was a Knight... I had the Gifts... and then, all of a sudden, I'm-"

"Dead?"

"-I'm NOT a Knight any more. I'm a Guide. Only I don't know what I'm supposed to do or HOW I'm supposed to do it."

"Oh, its not as bad as all that, Donovan. You DID have a Guide for most of your time."

"But you just said it.... things didn't get passed on. I don't know the rules of this new existence any more than Brooks would know the rules of being a Knight without being told. Only there's no one to TELL me... unless...."

Donovan looked expectantly at his companion.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything!"

"You know everything you need to know, Donovan. What's missing is just polish and detail."

"Polish and detail can mean the difference between..." Donovan stopped, sighed, and changed directions. "For instance... what am I doing here?"

His companion raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean. I thought being dead meant... well, I thought it meant a LOT of things, very few of which are turning out to be true. I can be hurt. I can be... what's the word..."

"Banished? Dispelled?"

"By every other demon that comes along! What GOOD am I to Brooks if I keep getting shrugged aside-"

"Donovan, I'm disappointed. Your own personal experience should have taught you that those expectations were entirely unfounded. You know... for a FACT... that Guides are just as vulnerable, perhaps even more so, than their charges. You saw this first hand with Luther."

"...another failure," said Donovan. "I should never have let that happen. I should never have let that monster-"

"Luther wasn't your fault."

"I should have protected him!"

"You didn't know he needed protecting. You may have suspected it... but you had no idea how vulnerable his... your... condition leaves you. What happened was unfortunate."

"I could have stopped it."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it would have been YOUR soul taken instead of his. Without a soul, there can be no transference of the Gifts. The world would have been left with one less protector."

"Or perhaps-"

"There is no other perhaps." Donovan heard the stern tone of certainty creep into his companion's voice. "Realize that I have been beyond the Gates, Donovan I am privy to information that you do not have. From YOUR perspective, there are a thousand things that could have gone differently.... each yielding a different outcome. But from MINE, there is only one other outcome. You would have died. You AND Luther AND the boy would have all been lost. That is a certainty."

"I don't see it-"

"You don't have to see it. It is not your purpose to second-guess every decision you made when you were alive. You've got more important things to occupy your time. But... it does bring up an unpleasant fact."

"Which is?"

"He's going to have to face him."

"Sebastian?"

"Brooks."

"No..." Donovan whispered. "No, no... no, Brooks is DECADES away from being strong enough to face the Phage..."

"He doesn't have that long. Assuming he survives until then."

"How long DOES he ha-"

"You know I can't tell you that. Against the rules. Just know that its coming. HE'S coming. But really, from what I've seen... the Phage isn't the worst of your problems."

"It doesn't get much worse than that monster-"

"Oh, yes it does. Much worse. And much closer than you think; all of it."

"You.... you're frightening me," Donovan said with total honesty.

"Frightening... warning... same difference. That's why you're here. That's why this little meeting was arranged. Brooks is in line to face more than you, I, or Luther EVER did, my friend. There are things coming that.... well even those of us up HERE are a bit nervous about."

"Brooks isn't ready," said Donovan.

"I know. We all know."

"So TELL me how to prepare him!"

"I can't."

"Sebastian," said Donovan. "Sebastian should have the Gifts. HE is ready, HE knows-"

"So what are you going to do, arrange an early demise for Brooks?"

"It isn't the FIRST time its been done. Or did you forget how YOU got the Gifts?"

"But what would Brooks say about it, I wonder..."

"If he knew... if he understood..."

"Another warning, Donovan: DON'T."

"Don't what-"

"Just don't Do you understand? This idea you're building in your mind about Brooks and the boy.... don't. You could do it.... it WOULD be better, for everyone involved... but I cannot stress it enough: DO NOT. Your job is to keep Brooks alive. When his time comes, there is nothing you can say or do to stop it, but it is not for you to DICTATE when that time arrives-"

"Alright, alright... things will stay as they are until... until they can't remain that way any longer."

"Good enough."

"But he's not ready. I'M not ready... as a Guide... to see him through anything as serious as the Phage. If he's as lucky as he seems, he'll die before-"

"Instead of looking at what you do not have... what you are not ready for... perhaps you should focus instead on what you have been given."

"Given? I don't-"

Donovan's companion held up his hand and began counting on his fingers as he spoke.

"Your freedom.... you aren't bound to Brooks any more. At least not as tightly as you were. You can move freely now. That was allowed to happen for a reason. Then there is the girl-"

"Ashley?"

"A gift... that is all I can say. Then, your son..."

"Sebastian."

"You trained him well. He is an asset, but remember that BROOKS is the Knight... not Sebastian. Assure that your attention remains focused accordingly. There is also the woman-"

"What woman?"

"The constable..... ah, I believe the word is detective now."

"Dobbs?"

"She is pivotal. Dark forces have taken an unusual interest in her. They are watching her, and so should you. She will act as both friend and enemy... you must know which at what time, and take advantage when the time comes. There are still other... factors... of which you are not yet aware. You will be soon. Keep your eyes open. YOU are the Guide. YOU must see things on the horizon, so that Brooks and the others will have time to react. That will be more important for YOU than for any other Guide before you. To keep Brooks alive, you must be... literally... a guide through that landscape of what comes."

Donovan didn't like the sense of urgency that had been creeping into his companion's voice for the last few minutes. The supposedly friendly conversation was taking on a dire, almost apocalyptic tone...

"So how long does Brooks have?" said Donovan.

"You know I can't answer that. The future is not set, Donovan... at least, not set in a way that you can comprehend now. Either Brooks lives, or he does not. IF he lives, then... perhaps...he will wish that he had not. If he dies..."

The companion shrugged.

"...and I see that our time here is up."

"What?"

Donovan followed his companion's gaze out onto the street, where a horse-drawn carriage was approaching. It was a majestic thing pulled by equally majestic beasts.

"For me?" he asked.

"Yes. The energies that banished you have dissipated. But take care that you don't end up lost again. You may find yourself somewhere... slightly less pleasant."

"But I have so many more questions!"

The carriage pulled to a stop beside the cafe. The door opened. There was no driver, and no one inside.

"I know," said his companion. "I'm afraid you'll have to find most of your answers the hard way."

"Most? Does that imply another meeting?"

One of the horses whinnied noisily... impatiently.

"It implies nothing. Now run along... you've got to keep that Brooks fellow alive. He needs you. And he'll need you more as time goes on... IF it goes on."

"But what-"

"Just get in the carriage... it will take you back. Of course, with time being what it is from this perspective, there may be a delay..."

"But-"

His companion waved his arm... and suddenly, Donovan was inside the carriage. He hadn't gotten in, he hadn't even taken a step toward it. But there he was, sitting down on the padded seat and looking out at the cafe as the door swung shut.

The carriage began to move forward. Donovan's face flew to the window. He looked out and saw that the cafe, his companion, and everything else... was gone. There was nothing outside but an eerie whiteness that pressed in against the carriage... and then INTO the carriage, where it swallowed him, embracing him in a warm blanket of sweet, white oblivion..

tay Together.

The urge... the thought... hit him the instant he had taken the first step. With Ashley cradled in his sore, bleeding arms, it was all he could do to not drop her at his feet, turn around, and follow Brooks into the building where, for all either of them knew, the entire army of hell awaited.

Stay Together.

But the girl was hurt. Actually, Sebastian was more physically injured than she was. But he was conscious... on his feet and still moving. She wasn't. Carrying her into the building after Brooks would have meant her death. Leaving her unattended would have meant the same... possibly worse, considering the nature of their quarry. Sebastian had seen enough of Ashley's power to know that he did not want it turned against him. At least not until he understood how to fight it.

Then there was the demon. Had his reasoning been correct before? WAS Brooks the best suited to handle the beast? On the surface, it seemed so... Sebastian could never get close enough, but Brooks lacked the fortitude to do what needed to be done.

They should have stayed together. They should have... but Sebastian's mind couldn't figure out any reason that made sense. It was just an instinct... a feeling that his decision had been a poor one. How and why, he couldn't yet see... nor could he see whether simply stashing Ashley somewhere and going back into the fray would correct it. It could make things worse. Or better. The possibilities were so confusing.

Donovan was so much better at-

Sebastian interrupted the thought before it finished. He did so because finishing it would serve no purpose except lead him into further distraction... and because there were other things that demanded his attention.

He had carried Ashley back through the maze of cars and out onto the deserted street that lead through the heart of the ghetto. He stuck to the shadows as best he could, ignoring the pain in his back and arms with minimal effort, focusing instead on the windows of the tenements on either side of him. They had been mostly empty when they arrived, and so they remained now... if one were too blind to see the subtle movements of the curtains and nigh-imperceptible shifting of shadows within the darkness.

Sebastian was not blind.

Perhaps his decision-making left much to be desired, but he knew when he was being watched. He was being watched now.

He kept walking, keeping his rhythm and movements exactly the same as they had been before he noticed. He scanned the area ahead of him. There was an intersection... the cross-street dead ended one block east, and went west for several blocks before merging with main street and heading out of the city. His truck was two blocks north.

He would never make it.

He knew that with certainty. He would never make it past the intersection. It was an ambush. He had only spotted three watchers, but he knew there were others. The second that he and Ashley set foot in the intersection, they would be cut down by crossfire from the four buildings at the street corners. It was how HE would have done it... if he were an amateur. Judging from the ease with which Brooks had dealt with them, they were most certainly amateurs. But that didn't make them any less dangerous.

Sebastian checked the space between him and the intersection. There was a narrow alley ahead. On the way in, he had used it to gain access to one of the buildings, where he had dispatched one of Braxis' sentinels. He could do so again... assuming there wasn't anyone already waiting for him there. Yes. Out in the open he didn't stand a chance, but if changed the scenario... made them come after him... face him on terms that HE dictated...

When Sebastian reached the alley, he paused. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have... but he had to make sure they knew where he was going. To that end, he purposely hesitated. One second.... two...

Then he dashed into the alley, running at full speed in case the watchers decided to chase him with bullets. Then he halted suddenly and spun on one heel... swinging the unconscious Ashley around as he threw a kick. The sturdy metal door flew open, hitting the wall with a sufficiently loud BANG. Before the echo cleared, Sebastian was out of the alley, tearing down the dark hallway toward the stairs at the far end.

ther than being completely deserted.... Jason found the inside of the building pretty much normal for what it was: A tenement. Just beyond the main doors was a lobby which was, of course, trashed. Any attempts to keep furniture there had been given up years ago, and the owners had let the 'lobby' become just an empty space wedged between the elevators and the front door. And it was STILL trashed, even without furniture.

Gang markers and graffiti marred the walls, with each new 'artist' deciding that the best place for his work was on top of the previous 'art' left by someone else. The tile floor... they had given up on carpet generations ago... was stained so many colors (mostly variations of brown or yellow) that it looked like a work of art itself.

In the corner sat a large pile of debris that on closer inspection turned out to be the belongings of an evicted tenant. The plastic milk-crates and cardboard boxes of junk had been rendered unrecognizable by rats and thieves.

The elevators were directly in front of him. Both sets of metal doors looked several decades older than they actually were. One sported a tattered 'out of order' sign. That implied that the other elevator worked, but Jason wasn't going to risk it.

To the left of the elevators was a mail kiosk. It was unused... meaning that even BEFORE Braxis had taken over the building, the management had shut it down and forced the tenants to get their mail at the post office. Since, then, the locked door had been removed and the kiosk vandalized. Mailboxes whose doors hadn't been torn off had been painted over with graffiti or smeared with things Jason didn't care to guess.

To the right of the elevators was a dark hallway leading to what should have been a closed, locked door. The door was gone. The hallway beyond lead to the first floor apartments. The door that sealed them off from the world at large lay in the hallway, crumpled up like a piece of paper. It had been torn off of its hinges and tossed aside by something a bit more powerful than a junkie or a street gang.

In addition to the elevators, there were two stairwells, one on each side of the room. These doors stood open... a blatant security violation that nobody really gave a damn about .. and Jason could see that the right stairwell lead both up and down, while the one on the left lead only up.

Jason searched the place for signs of life. There WERE people alive in the building... that he was sure of. But they weren't here. There was no sign of the Velazquez kid or any of the tenants. Still, he was equally sure that he was being watched... right here, right now. Jason stepped way from the front doors... moving far enough to one side so that he couldn't be shot in the back by somebody outside.

"What now?" he said quietly. Jason didn't care for the idea of going door to door in this hellhole, especially with a car-throwing possessed kid on the loose. But then, maybe he didn't have to.

Jason backed up until his back was against the wall... again, to make sure nothing got behind him. He closed his eyes.

It was a trick he had picked up not too long ago. According to the repeatedly-absent Donovan, evil was drawn to him (almost) like a magnet . That also meant that he was attracted to IT. If he concentrated hard enough, he could sense that attraction. It wasn't a physical sense... just like it wasn't a physical attraction. It was more like a faint tugging at his consciousness... a hint... a nudge in a particular direction... so faint that it was hard to notice even when he was searching for it.

In this case there were several nudges... several pools of *wrongness* that pulled at him. All were upstairs. One was stronger than the others. Much stronger. That would be the boy. Or Braxis.

Jason opened his eyes. He had them. He didn't know the layout of the building, but all of the other pools of lesser evil served as markers for the floors and rooms in which they hid. His target (whichever one it was) was on the top floor.

Jason went to the left staircase and started up.

e was expecting someone to meet him there, and was prepared to fight his way past two or three people to get to the top. He didn't have to. The stairs were deserted. He ran up them to what was 'officially' the first floor, since the level he had entered at the alley was called the 'basement.' The building's floorplan was very much like all of the others in the area: long hallways lined with doors on one or both sides. The doors lead to apartments.

Sebastian waited, listening....

...there!

Footsteps. Downstairs. One person entering the 'basement' and then pausing. More footsteps in the alley... and three people running down the stairs from above.

Sebastian kicked in the door to an apartment halfway down the hall. He paused.... then entered, eyes quickly searching the place for attackers. Finding none, he slammed the door behind him, taking care to make as much noise as possible and to NOT lock it behind him.

The apartment looked like it had been occupied recently... VERY recently, judging from the cold, but unspoiled food on the dinner table. The overturned chairs and bullet-holes in the walls indicated that the sudden exit was not entirely voluntary. They had left the couch intact... smelly and somewhat sticky(?) but in one piece... so Sebastian deposited Ashley on it and turned back to the door. There were two exits... the window/ fire escape, and the door in front of him.

Five sets of running footsteps approached the door.

Sebastian drew his sword, and wondered if his pursuers would at least be smart enough to shoot through the door before barging in-

WHAM!

Nope.

The door flew open, kicked in by a black youth wielding a Glock 9mm. There were four others behind him, all armed, and all roughly Sebastian's age or younger. The first entered the room gun-first-

WHOOSH!

Sebastian's sword severed the boy's hand just at the wrist. It was a clean, flawless cut... the sharpness of the blade and the strength behind it cut through bone as if the hand were held in place with masking tape.

The boy inhaled... the beginnings of a scream-

Sebastian's rotating thrust sent his blade plowing through the boy's chest just below the ribcage. The sword exited the boy's back.... and ENTERED the gut of the second armed thug, who had been standing directly behind the first. One Thrust-Two Kills. Flawless. The fact that the attackers were human... young human boys.... meant-

-absolutely nothing. Not to Sebastian.

Both boys were propelled back into the hallway, temporarily scattering the other three who were only now realizing what had happened. By the time they figured it out, Sebastian had retrieved the Glock dropped by the first boy. After peeling away the severed hand and tossing it aside, he fired into the hall.

He emptied the magazine into the chests of two thugs. Their bodies were in the process of falling when Sebastian heard a rapid succession of sounds to his right: A metallic thud, the groan of rusty metal, and the breaking of glass.

Fire escape.

Anyone else would have turned, looked, and attacked. But that sequence would have been fatal. Sebastian turned and attacked at the same time...drawing his second sword and flinging it even before his eyes had made the transition from door to window. The heavy blade spun in the air like a dagger, finally finding a home in the T-Shirt clad chest of the armed boy climbing in from the fire escape. It made a satisfying-

sshhLUCK!

-sound, followed by the metal fire escape rattling as the impact threw the intruder back over the railing... taking Sebastian's sword along with him.

BLAM!
BLAM!
BLAM!

Bullets ripped through the paper-thin wall, tearing across the room at random. Sebastian felt pain blossom in his right shoulder as one wild shot found a target. The impact shoved his shoulder back, knocking him off balance... he fell into a crouch drawing his knife and counting the shots that continued to pierce the wall-

BLAM!
BLAM!
BLAM!
-click-

Sebastian was already springing for the hallway before the click came. He ran for the hallway... but NOT for the door...

Sebastian exploded through the thin double-layer sheet-rock that passed (barely) for a wall. Seven bullet-holes had already weakened it, but it was Sebastian's raw fury that took him through the plaster like a wrecking ball. The gunman in the hall was taken by surprise... he was reaching for a gun one of the others had dropped while watching the apartment doorway, where he expected Sebastian to appear. Instead, Sebastian burst through the wall beside him, knife already swinging in anticipation of the gunman's reaction.

The gunman snapped upright and turned toward him-

The first slash of Sebastian's knife opened up the thug's abdomen. Before the splash of blood reached the floor, Sebastian had jabbed the knife into... and through... the man's throat.

Five down.

Sebastian was expecting more... but perhaps this was fortunate, as his arm was beginning to go numb from the gunshot wound. He had also dislocated it when he ran through the wall.

Sebastian snapped it back into place with a grunt. It hurt. He ignored it.

Just then, someone ran down the hallway upstairs, directly over his head. Heading toward the stairwell. Sebastian grabbed one of the discarded guns and fired up through the ceiling, aiming for the footsteps. Somewhere near the end of the seven shots, there came a shout of pain and a THUD.... dust and plaster rained down on him from above.

Without pausing to think, Sebastian grabbed the sword he'd used to impale two of his attackers. He yanked it out of its flesh sheath, then thrust it straight up through the ceiling.

A red stain spread outward from the hole, and blood oozed down the shaft.

Now two more were coming up the stairs from the basement. Abandoning the sword for a moment, Sebastian grabbed two more guns and streamed bullets down the hallway, hitting one man in the head and sending the other scurrying for cover. Sebastian ducked back into the apartment and checked the guns. Empty.

Ashley looked like she'd stirred in her sleep, but Sebastian had no time to check on her condition. He had his own injuries to deal with, and there was still one more man to kill. The bullet had gone completely through his shoulder, so there was no need to dig it out. He bandaged it with a scrap of tablecloth... and all the while, he listened to Ashley's rhythmic breathing and the furtive sounds of someone creeping down the hall.

He heard one of the apartment doors open, and then a thud... followed by a click.

Thud?

Click?

Sebastian tried to figure out what he'd just heard. Was there someone else in the building?

The door he'd heard open belonged to the apartment next to this one. The last assailant had probably gone in to hide, intending to catch Sebastian by surprise when he left. But something had caught HIM by surprise instead.

Sebastian checked Ashley once more. She was waking up,... her eyes were fluttering and her blank expression had changed to a slight frown, but her breathing was still deep and her limbs were limp. She didn't respond when he nudged her. She wasn't awake yet, but soon...

Sebastian went to the apartment door and peered outside. The adjacent door was closed. That was the click he heard. Sebastian frowned. There was definitely someone else here.

He stepped softly into the hall and retrieved his sword from the ceiling. Then he crept over to the door, considered opening it, then backed away. He listened... not to the door or the room beyond, but to what wasn't supposed to be paying attention to: the room he'd just left.

He had been lured away...

...and there it was. The sound he wasn't supposed to hear: Someone on the fire escape, climbing in the window.

Ashley was still in there.

e had gone up seven floors without having to fire a single shot. The stairway remained empty; no one, demon or otherwise, had presented themselves to try and stop him. There was only one more to go...

Jason considered the increasingly-likely possibility that it was a trap.

Considering the resistance they had met just getting TO the building, it didn't seem likely that he would just be allowed to walk around unmolested once he got in. Braxis was waiting for him, of that he was positive. The kid was probably there, too. But he could deal with doctor and the boy with no problem. A well-deserved bullet would take care of the first. And the second? Actually, Jason didn't know WHAT he was going to do with Velazquez, but he knew he'd think of something. Something that didn't involve putting a lead slug through the child's cranium.

But what ELSE was up there on that final floor?

He had yet to run into his doppleganger anywhere. The false-Jason... the one with his face and his powers.... was still a mystery. Donovan had no concrete answers as to who or what it was. He couldn't even say for sure if it was human or not. And now he wasn't even here to scout ahead for him. Some Guide HE was turning out to be.

"Ahh, I don't need no stinkin' Guide..." Jason mumbled as he reached the top of the stairs. He didn't open the door immediately, he just stood there staring at it for a while... expanding his awareness beyond the physical to include the faint tugging at his mind. It was originating from the end of the hallway on the other side of the door. There could have been other things on the hall as well, but he couldn't resolve them... couldn't separate them from the massive evil at the end. It was overwhelming them, almost cloaking them from his senses.

Jason considered going in another way. He could go back down a floor or two and use the fire escape to climb up to the top floor... but he dismissed that as an unnecessary delay. If he had thought of that before, he might have done it, but now he was too close to turn around and give Braxis another ten minutes to plan whatever he was planning.

Jason opened the stairwell door....

liding one foot cautiously past the other, Sebastian crept back where had come from, pausing to retrieve his knife from one of the corpses littering the floor. Then he burst into the room, already throwing the blade at the form standing near the window-

BLAM!

Sebastian saw the gun a split second after the blade left his fingertips. He twisted to one side, the bullet carved a line down the left side of his jaw as his eyes followed the blade-

The figure had foreseen his attack. A quick side-step, and the hurling blade sailed over the intruders left shoulder and went out the window. Sebastian prepared to-

"DON'T MOVE!" Marilyn Dobbs shouted, leveling the gun at Sebastian's face. "You're fast, but you ain't THAT damned fast. Move an inch and they'll be scraping your @#$% brains off the wall behind you!"

Sebastian froze.

"You," he said.

Marilyn nodded.

"You're the guy from the police station," she said. "Funny.... I'm not all that surprised do see you mixed up in this. Drop the sword."

"No," Sebastian replied. The detective's arrival was unexpected. But the fact that she was walking around loose meant that Braxis must have gotten to her. OR that she has gotten away on her own. Sebastian had to assume the first until proven otherwise.

"No?" said Dobbs. She stepped away from the window and went around the couch, where Ashley was still unconscious. Dobbs didn't take her eyes off of him, not even to look at the girl. Sebastian had been counting on that split-second of distraction to act; but it never came. "I think you fail to understand the situation. I've got a gun. YOU'VE got a big knife. You tell ME who's got the tactical advantage here."

"I do," Sebastian said with cocky assurance. His grip tightened around his blade. Dobbs was ten feet away from him, well out of reach. The instant he tried to move, she would kill him.

"Fine, have it your way." Dobbs finger began to pull back on the trigger. Sebastian watched the tiny lever move....

"All right," he said. The sword toppled from his fingers, hitting the floor with a thump.

"Thought you'd see it my way. Kick it away from you and put your hands over your head."

Sebastian raised his hands, and kicked the sword out of reach. Dobbs took one step toward him.

"Down on your knees."

Sebastian complied.

"Hands behind your head, lace your fingers together."

Bending his arm took effort. Doing so re-started the bleeding from his bullet wound. Sebastian didn't flinch as he placed his hands behind his head... and grabbed tiny throwing knife strapped to his upper back, high enough so the handle was just below his shirt. He could throw it accurately in the blink of an eye... but Dobbs could fire in half that time. He had to wait until HE had the advantage.

"Don't move..."

He didn't intend to. Yet.

Dobbs walked around behind him. Sebastian hid the blade under his palm, pressed against his skull. He listened to her voice as she talked.

"My guess is that YOU'RE the one that did Royce," she said. "which means I owe you a bullet to the head. But I'd rather have answers than revenge right now... so start talking."

"Answers to what?" said Sebastian. He had lowered his voice... not enough to be obvious, but just enough to make Dobbs move closer. She did. He heard her. He pictured her in his mind... how far away she was... what she was doing with the gun... where she was likely aiming it...

"Let's start with who you are and how you figure in with Brooks-"

The movement was so fast and so fluid that it seemed almost like magic. Sebastian leaned to one side as he twisted, slashing with the knife-

BLAM!

The gun went off, as he knew it would. Dobbs missed.... as he knew she would. She was too close, and a few inches was all he needed to dodge the bullet. She wouldn't miss a second time, but then he wasn't going to giver her one. Sebastian's blade carved a deep, cruel gash down the back of Dobb's hand, scraping the bone and causing enough pain for her to drop the gun. Sebastian was on his feet before the gun landed...swinging his fist as he rose-

CRACK!

The upper-cut knocked Dobbs off balance. He followed with a spinning side-kick that threw her back into the wall. She hit her head, and slowly slid to the floor...

Sebastian glanced at Ashley, and then looked for the detective's gun. The floor didn't have a rug, and when it hit, it has skidded all the way to the couch. Sebastian went-

"Hey,"

He spun. Dobbs was on her feet again, bleeding from her lips and from the cut on her hand. She wiped the blood from her face and sneered at Sebastian.

"You hit pretty hard..." she said. "For a skinny white boy."

The detective went into a rigid fighting stance.

"Now bring it on..."

The hallway was as deserted as the stairwell. Jason liked it less and less with every step. The feeling that he was being watched increased exponentially with every door he passed. He tried a couple of them just for the hell of it. Both were unlocked, and the apartments beyond were empty. At least, they LOOKED empty.

He passed a connecting hallway with hardly a glance. It was the cross-bar in the "H"-shaped building, and in its center were the elevators. Both doors were closed. If someone were coming... or escaping... they weren't using the elevators.

But Jason already knew that Braxis was still there.

The door was locked, as Jason expected it would be. He didn't stand in front of it to try the latch... he put his back to the wall beside it and reached out. When the latch didn't move, he considered his options-

While he was considering, he shot the lock off the door and dropped to a crouch to duck any emerging gunfire. When there was none, he stood up... paused to listen (to nothing),... then went in.

It was dark. Two figures stood in front of the fire escape window... one male, tall and thin. One smaller, a child. Both had their backs to the only light in the room, casting their faces into shadows. Jason could barely make out the doctor's features... but he COULD make them out. The doctor smiled.

"Ahhh, hello, Mr. Brooks-" said Braxis-

BLAM!

Jason shot Braxis through the center of his smiling, maniacal face. A red spray dotted with chunks of gore splattered the window behind him, and, to Jason's surprise, BOTH figures fell. Jason's hand flew to the light switch on the wall.

Feeble light beamed down from the fixture overhead., Jason saw Braxis and the demon formerly known as Tomas Velazquez were laying sprawled on the floor in a widening lake of fresh blood. Braxis was undoubtedly dead. Tomas?

When Jason took a few steps closer, he saw that perhaps he had been premature. Braxis was moving. His fingers twitched... and what remained of his jaw was quivering in a very animated fashion.

"...ello....ooks..." Braxis gurgled. Then again: "...hello....rooksssss.... llo...."

Jason eased back the hammer of his revolver and got closer. Definitely staying out of arm's reach, but-

Then he saw that, whatever he had shot... was not Dr. Braxis. It was probably wearing the doctor's clothes. And it may have worn the doctor's face before Jason shot it off... but it was NOT Braxis. It wasn't even human.

Or maybe it was. Once.

It was the boy that gave it away. One shot, and they had BOTH fallen, Velazquez and Braxis had hit the floor together, as if they were joined at the hip.

And that's exactly what they were.

What Jason had mistaken for TWO people was actually one... one continuous lump of flesh sculpted into an outline of a man and a boy standing side by side. Tomas' face stared innocently up at Brooks... eyes glazed over and lips hanging open. There were no teeth in the boy's mouth, nor hair on his head. The boy's right arm merged smoothly into left side of the Braxis torso. The two halves shared the center leg, which was jerking back and forth across the floor in a manner more like a serpent than a leg. The fleshy protrusion that Jason had shot was still hissing and gurgling... lips flapping together in some semblance of speech...

"...kkssssss.... ello...broooookkssssss.....ello....roooooksssss...."

It was saying same thing over and over, like a malfunctioning machine. A flesh-machine. Braxis had built it and left it here as a decoy.

But where had Braxis gotten the flesh?

And if this was a decoy-

"AHH, Hello Mr. Brooks!" Braxis voice blared suddenly. Brooks jumped... The voice was coming from the decoy, but it wasn't from the shattered face. The voice was distorted... far away, like...

Jason saw the police-radio stuffed into the jacked of the flesh-decoy. The voice he heard was the REAL Braxis... talking over the radio from somewhere else.

"Don't bother trying to talk, neither of us has a lot of time..." said the doctor is his thick, disarming southern accent. "Plus I believe you may be a bit too squeamish to actually reach down and retrieve the radio..."

"Damn right," Jason said as he looked at the flesh-thing in disgust. He wasn't getting anywhere near it. Even if it WASN'T still moving.

"I would like to welcome you to the home of Doretta Rawlins," said Braxis. "One of my new patients. Ms. Rawlins suffered from a glandular condition that slowed her metabolism to... well, I'm sure you know what a slow metabolism does. The poor girl weighed in the neighborhood of 400 pounds, give or take. Quite a shame, really... her heart was fit to burst in her chest if she took too many deep breaths. She was quite grateful when I offered to help. I tweaked the malfunctioning metabolism, and took the liberty of removing... ohhhh.... 250 pounds or so from her overburdened body.. You'll be happy to know that the operation was a success, and she's feeling much better. She's not home at the moment, but I did take the liberty of putting that excess flesh to good artistic use. I hope you like my little sculpture, Mr. Brooks. Oh, and Tomas helped too. He said it was like making a snowman. Imagine that, Mr. Brooks... a snowman."

Snowman. Jason wanted to throw up.

"Unfortunately I myself am too busy to entertain you in person," Braxis continued. "But don't worry, I've left several other pieces of artwork behind for your amusement. And don't' worry about trying to find them all... they're on their way to you right now."

Somewhere... a door opened. And then another. Footsteps in the hallway.

Snowmen.

Jason REALLY wanted to throw up.

"I hope you appreciate them, Mr. Brooks; they took a lot of work. Needless to say, you'll find getting OUT a great deal more difficult that getting IN. And don't worry about testing the fire escape... Tomas took the liberty of weakening the supports. If you decide to try it, you'll find yourself descending quite a bit faster than you had planned."

Another door opened.... the stairwell.

"Well, I've got business to attend to elsewhere, Mr. Brooks. Do enjoy the next few minutes... I doubt you'll be in a position to enjoy very much afterward. Goodbye, Mr. Brooks."

The radio clicked lightly as Braxis broke the connection.

Then it immediately clicked again, as the doctor called back.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Braxis. "You might want to look behind you-"

-click-

Jason spun....

Jason Brooks was stepping out of the closet, holding a .454 Casull revolver leveled at Jason's head.... the hammer was cocked back.

"Wha-" Jason began. His own hand was already raising... the magical Affinity coursing through his body like napalm in his veins. But even magic has its limits.

Before he could even get his gun raised-

BLAM!

[To Be Continued]

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment