Attempt #1

Heavy, sharp boots battered the metal dome of a ventilation system. A ragged cape swirled around a pipe as the wicked body slithered through. It moved like a blight over humanity, like a snake with the ability to leap. The shadow put both claws forward and propelled himself onto his shoulder blade, making a full roll through the gravel of the rooftop. These sharpened fingers gripped the corner of the brick building where the walls met. His glowing gray eyes squinted, reducing them to determined slits in his head. The wind gusts bristled his torn cape, fluttering in the wind and hugging the shadow's slim but thick body.

The Dusk was on the prowl as he had been for the past few nights. It had been a rude awakening for the damned cesspool of Detroit. The crooks were confused and the news were infatuated. They were very... colorful with the way they described him. It was not yet fully known that Dusk was the dark figure bringing horrid punishments to the sinners of the forgotten city. They ran scared and panicked, often referring to him as 'The Shadow' or 'The Demon'. The mysterious hero had become nothing more than a ghost in the mind of the civilians and criminals alike. It was seizing up to be a legend of sorts to the people around him. He shrugged, knowing that such a hysteria over him would certainly make weaker thugs run scared and the weaker civilians birth some courage. The world around him was changing, millimeter by millimeter. The Dark Avenger's work was far from finished in the city that fell into infamy. The underbelly of the Motor City still ruled supreme. There were empty streets at night, terror locking the citizens inside their homes. Sometimes they were not even safe there.

It had been, a more vile inversion of a utopia than he last remembered. It had been true that the city was always truly worse for ware, but in his near two year absence from his home; it had descended into an endless pit of sin. The cops and the criminals were hard to differentiate at times. The recession had made crime a more appealing choice than earning each penny you make. There was only... so much morality could do to stop such things before survival kicked in and made you a winner. It was pathetic that in the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave, people were turning to such sick motives to get by. This had only became a steep mountain; descent inevitable. The thugs grew into larger castes of crime. There was organized crime, or disorganized chaos as the V Army seems to operate. A crook was more eager to spill blood over a simple fifty dollars. Desperate times bring out the truth in humanity. It is a sad tale that this truth is not for the feint of heart.

He crouched, tucking his feet on the stoned ledge, bending his spiked shoulders forward. The Dusk felt his veins tingling, a whip in the air buffeting his masked face. He twitched ever so slightly, causing the brick to crack as his grip tightened. The Shadow huffed through his nose while the fire began to heat up beneath his chest. It made him sick, all of this. All of the vile things humanity was capable of; how every moment the parents weren't watching, the children would tear each other to shreds. It was more malevolent than any ghast of his host's home realm. Men's hearts hold more evil than any tainted creature of any plane. It is a disturbing truth that Dusk is becoming more accustomed to as the week goes on, but doesn't like the sound of it any better than when he first discovered it. He loathes the idea that the people inhabiting the city he calls home have sunk so low. It makes him contort with a foul grimace.

The worst essence of the harsh overtone that blanketed the Motor City was that it had gotten just as bad is it was before... The kind of unforgiving environment that allowed the murder of his beloved. It became quickly evident to Dusk that the state of justice had deteriorated in this blackened pool to the point where a tragedy just as horrid if not more could occur once more. He never better than anyone that such an event could never happen again. Any society that could make that evil possible deserved abandonment.

But that was not his way...

The Dusk would die with his city to see it through.

There was a rage in him that was unspoken of. A campfire doused in gasoline ignited a reign of terror that could span whole countries if allowed to prosper. The Dark Avenger was blessed and cursed by his time in the great beyond. It was pure heaven for Terry to reunite with his long lost love. Amy Elizabeth Brock was the center of his cosmos. Her untimely death had created a rift in his life, spawning the reclusive hero that stood atop that lonely rooftop. It was her brutal murder that gave him his purpose to bring honor back to the moral named Justice. It was in this moral that Dusk fought and died for in Washington D.C a couple years back. His altercation with the nuclear tyrant Meltdown was well renowned, saving the government from his murderous dictatorship. With his death, came the freedom of the great King Dusk that lay dormant, unknowingly bonded to him through the symbiotic suit. That all was inconsequential in comparison to Terry, who was also freed.

When he passed, there was a great swirl of black, but then the sweet scent of marigolds. He awoke in a great pasture of nature, miles long. It spanned with glorious, lush green fields and entire orchards of flowers. The young man, in death, had stumbled upon his late fiance's resting place; Her Sanctuary. The Sanctuary was a wondrous place, any nature enthusiast's dream. It honestly reminded him more of a watercolor painting than an actual place. It was no matter, for when he saw her, that is when he witnessed true beauty. Her vibrant cherry hair dashed in the wind as her face blossomed into the smile that angel's envied. Terrance was helpless but to return the smile of true joy.

The two would hold their own ceremony, just the pair. No one else. She had waited for him in this... separate plane of existence. Amy wished no part in death until her Terry could join her. This tickled his heart and enchanted his soul. They... were finally wed beneath a elegant cherry blossom in one of her many orchards. It was a momentous occasion that was previously unachievable due to the constraints of life and death. Amy Brock was no longer a being. Amy Graves would be her official title for that moment on. He could still see her soft white gown... her baffling smile... He could still smell her sweet scent, one that had no description; only that it was her's... That's what made it the best scent he'd ever observed.

The Dusk suddenly snapped back into rocky reality as his keen ears attained a commotion only a block away from him. He turned slowly against the moon, glaring heavily at a convenience store down the road. It dawned to him that this was certainly the location of the ruckus. The Shadow rose slowly from his perch, displaying an ominous stature of anguish.

The reason finally being wed to his betrothed was a curse was because the two were still separated by the cruel rift of the living and the dead. If it weren't for his damned father, she would still be there by his side. Amy could be in his arms that very moment. They could be slumbering in bed, tucked in each other's grace with out a damned care in the entire planet. However, the frantic hatred of life upon those who hold it is unforgiving and astounding. It overwhelms its subjects with omens of anguish and pure agony. Life had become a dark sentence; a prison cell for Terry. All he wanted was to be at one with death, so he could be with Amy like he belonged. However, he had passed on once before and somehow had returned. No matter what he did, not even dying could reunite him with his lover forever. It began to look hopeless that he'd ever see her again.

Every sinner in Detroit would feel the rage of his anger... The spawn of his anguish.

The Dark Avenger leaped into extraordinary heights. His silhouette blocked the bright moon as he extended his torn cape into a thick glider. Like a bat out of hell, The Dusk descended between the tall buildings around him. He glided through the dirty streets of the city, looking like a dark vampire released from a deep slumber. A few stopped and pointed, other's screamed, some even ran. His gray eyes were dead set on the convenience store; the shouting much louder to his sensitive ears by now. The wrath of Dusk was something regarded with horror of those who experienced it. A bizarre husk of a man deprived of the only thing that mattered in his life: The only thing left was Anger and Agony... Worst of all, Wrath.





The lights of the small Mom and Pop store shattered suddenly, reducing the family friendly vender into a ray-less cave. There were shouts from the thugs and customers alike as the glass shards scattered across the merchandise. The only illumination was a feint glow coming from a street lamp across the road. This only allowed brief outlines to be occasionally spotted by the people inside. Even with the large hole, the darkness was obscuring.

The tone was set. There was no reason the perfectly functioning lights would suddenly implode out of no where. Some darker force was at work here and everyone in the tiny shop knew it. The eye of the hurricane... the quiet before the storm... whatever name you gave it, it was undoubtedly beneath the skin of the people inside. The thunder in the distance was growing louder. The marching troops were getting closer. A calamity was about to occur. There was no need to broadcast the future. It was quite obvious that someone wasn't leaving the store in the same shape they came in. There seemed to be a crisp energy in the air, sparking and sizzling. It wasn't visible. Some would argue that it didn't even exist. It was truly a figment of the mind. A whimsical tactic of terror. So simple, yet so frightening to remove sight from creatures who preyed upon it for every aspect of their lives. It reduced even the most vile sinner to a lost lamb, ready to be devoured by the starving wolf.

The atmosphere seemed to crackle. A jump scare you saw coming, but still you were unable to prepare for it. It was there... vibrating the skin of the criminals. This was no police raid, but it was something far worse. Something truly morbid and merciless. They had heard of such thing's happening in the tabloids. Some sort of wicked demon had turned vigilante and torn right out of Hell to bring sinners back home. It was all scary story bull shit for them. However, the accounts of terror found in the six o' clock news shook them deep down. Car jackers found with arms dislocated and broken from their sockets... Radicals with elbows snapped the wrong direction... Those stories had to have been true for the real deal to actually report them. Sure, it wasn't as colorful as the tabloids, but horrifying to hear none the less. Perhaps it had entered the young mutant's mind that due to his powers, the mysterious shadow stalking the streets of the Motor City would turn a blind eye to his rampant deeds. From behind a television screen, it is much easier to judge yourself as capable to take on wicked beings from other planes.

However, the mortifying realization was setting in that he was not as ample as he had once seemed. The strange new hero had broken his fingers like twigs. That alone was enough to hamper his confidence in the robbery. It made him felt weak, but soon enough he'd get mad and his powers would blast that guy out of the window. He had it swirling in his hot headed mind. There were new thoughts circulating in his head since the lights went dark.

No No No... Not here.. Why did HE have to be here...? Dammit!

It could have been easy to speak his mind out loud, but not at that moment. At that moment, a lump the size of Texas had clogged his throat. A chill had quaked his body from head to toe. Even with all his fire power, he had no idea what this thing even was. If it was true what the tabloids spoke of... a hellspawn sent to Earth to drag the sinners down to hell... The thing would actually enjoy his fire. It would take it and throw it back in his face... It would take joy in mutilating his burnt corpse and...

The fire mutant snapped back to reality, knowing that he was dooming himself with those dark thoughts. He had first thought that this new thing was somehow the same creature, but once the lights went black... he knew...

There was a small humming noise from above them. It crackled and popped loudly. The victims of the robbery ducked in panicked as wild orange sparked leaped from the exposed light bulb. The fire mutant immediately cried out like an infant when the spark illuminated a dark figure hovering just beside him. The whole room went pitch black once more as the sparks faded. That was hardly true for long as a quick fireball came hurtling through the darkness. It created an orange glow throughout the room before crashing into the fridges. For a brief moment, the wicked figure was visible. The mutant wish he hadn't been. The sight of the creatures wild horns and piercing glare made him about lose his urine. He never wished to look upon it again, but the gray orbs were wide open now. And they were staring directly at him, burrowing into his soul with a flaming rage hotter than any fireball he could ever muster. The mutant was terrorized at night with the very mention of the malevolent being, but now not only was it here standing before him, but he had managed to very thoroughly piss it off...

The next few seconds were all a blur to him. He felt a strong, firm grip then the world around him went into a blur of colors. The wind whipped him and he realized he was in the air. The pavement greeted him with an unforgiving raking of his forearm. It bled almost immediately, nothing serious but it stung like a thousand bee stings all at once. He whipped his head around, stunned to realize that he was out in the middle of the street. There was some solace that entered the mutant's heart when he looked up and found that he was exactly beneath the street light. This would at least make sure that that damned demon wouldn't sneak up on him again. But through the long dark bangs of the fire mutant, he saw the gray glowing eyes still within the store, eying him down like he was some damned rabbit for the fox to eat. He was his... The young man took a moment to swallow hard... His prey...

”Fuck No! I ain't being no damned demons meal! You can try and drag me to Hell you sick fuck! You ain't takin' me! All you takin' is this you sack of shit!” The young mutant yelped, making a valiant stand against his racing heart. The hot headed young man persevered all terror that was pumping through his veins and turned it into concentrated adrenaline. This was no longer a fight for a few hundred bucks. This was a fight for survival for him and there was no way he was going to lose! His legs propelled him up and he raised his arms outward. The palms of his hands spread wide as the glowed a crimson tint of red followed by vibrating tangerine.

”RAAAAAHHHH!” he let out a steadfast battle cry as his hands shone a bright, deep orange. A stream of fire immediately burst from the palms of his hands, like a reverse fire extinguisher towards the Shadow hovering within the shop. The mutant found himself crying as he put every bit of effort he had into that blast, planning to erase all fears of death from his mind by burning this creature back to Hell. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see if his attempt failed, only pushing himself to his limits in hopes to survive the night. The store was suddenly illuminated as the flames came rolling towards it. The dark figure stood proudly, not faltering... or even flinching as the fire came arrowing towards him.

There was but a quite squint of his eerie eyes before he bolted into the air. His gnarled cape surrounded him in a blurring twirl. The cape became a beam of light as it was consumed by fire. The wicked being has made a void large enough to cover the gaping hole in the store. The rest of the flame only battered the sides of the walls around it. This had relatively no effect considering these walls were hard brick. However, the Shadow had become quite the opposite, a bright candle with gasoline poured over it. It went up faster than a grease fire. The mutant slid his eyes open, watching the vile creature become a conduit of pure flame. It made him cackle immaturely at the defeat of his opponent. It was to be expected considering he was glad to have dodged death. He sighed, relinquishing his stream of fire with relief.

The mutant cried out as the fire did not stop as he ceased creating it. The flames were still very much alive, but tossed aside like filthy toys as the dark being tore through it. Originally thought to have fried the demon alive, he stood in shock for a moment as it landed in the road only a few meters from him. It stood valiantly, its smoking cape buffeting in a passing wind. The mutant suddenly found himself backing away in disbelief. There it was... His greatest fear for this night... Its long gnarled cape.. Its wild horned head... Its clawed hands... Its all seeing eye scorched across its chest... There was no mistake now; It was him...

”No No No! You don' understand! I'm jus' tryin' to make a livin'! Stop! God please stop! Make him stop! Stay there you! Don't come any closer!” The young man panicked, backing up until his spine connected with the street light. The dark figure stood... disturbingly quiet and motionless. It stepped no closer to him, only watching angrily at his every moment.

”Stop that! S-stop! I'm-m j-just.. WOULD YOU QUIT THAT GOD DAMN!!!” the boy snapped, raising his hands with glowing fire cackling between his palms. Before he could even blink, he felt his wrists snapped downwards. He felt his bones disconnect and a singeing pain consume his arms. The mutant cried instantly, falling to his knees observing his crippled hands. Tears began to stream down his face as he realized that this was the end for him. His life certainly wasn't worth a few lousy hundreds... but he had risked it and found his greatest fear in the midst of the night. Death had seeked him out and chosen him for passage. It was too soon; he was too young to die. The mutant's eyes seemed to seep an ever constant moisture as he whimpered before the powerful demon. Tears beat the concrete below him as he looked up to the beast, shaking and whimpering.

”P-p-pleeeaasee..... L-l-let me go... I jus'.. wanted... Don't take me to Hell... God please.... I'll stop-I swear....Just... I beg you... Let me live...,” The young fireman pleaded for his corrupted life. The dark figure narrowed his mysterious gray eyes at the dark haired boy for a moment, then turned his back completely around. The notion befuddled the boy instantly. He hadn't imagined that his pleas could ever work. A hand suddenly bolted back around with knuckles pointed at the mutant. A strange green substance fired form the top of the demon's hand and splattered all over the boy. It was slimy and glued him right to the lamp post. He nearly vomited upon looking at the snotty appearance of the liquid. He tried to struggle at first, but found that this substance was much too strong and his hands were broken; so he couldn't exactly just burn through it.

”Stay there. You are two limbs down. I can make it two more.” It spoke, its hallow voice shattering any ounce of confidence the mutant had left.

The Alien being stepped through the burnt threshold of the gaping hole in the store. It stepped wearily, completely unaware of the subject before it. There was an awe that came with looking upon the mysterious entity. A silver cold weighed the veins. A drifter that had no destination. A powerful predator provoked if threatened. A malevolent monster made of vengeance.

The most bizarre notion of it all was this being was just... standing there. It was deafeningly quiet as if the shadow was encumbered with a shield of the silent. It allowed any who looked upon him to see a ghost, withered in the fabrics of time. There was an icy stare that stripped you of your humanity. His glowing orbs were distant, buried in a time that troubled him so, but completely deprived of any ability to speak of what tragedy had defined him. There was a sense of... fear that came with being in his presence. The kind of terror that came by witnessing a man on the verge of snapping. Like reading a suicidal note, your bones dissolved into snow with a single look. Madness was a scary power to hold, possibly one that made you more unpredictable and versitle than any opponent. This creature seemed to be made of it... an avenger forged to bring the blight of crime to an end. It was all inspiring in a way... but downright horrifying that if the Jarthis alien raised but a finger that even slightly made it appear that he worked on the wrong side of the law; Jarthis would be a broken, beaten heap... at one with the pavement.

For now, the dark figure seemingly ignored him for the moment, keeping his piercing glare burrowed into the fire mutant. The mutant was now struggling for his life, pulling and stretching the interminable material with cries of pure despair. His gnarled cape was lofted over him in a somber sense of power. His spikes atop his deltoids propelled his cloak upwards at those points. There was nothing more visible of his body, leaving how he looked beneath it... a mystery. It could be true what the news had been saying about this demonic creature. That he was some sort of spawn of Hell come back to reek anger and malice upon sinners. Hell, there could be claws and deformed skin beneath all that! It was not a sparing thought to ponder what exactly the beast was holding beneath the draft of his deep navy blue cape. All that the alien could see was the all seeing eye that crossed across the chest of his cape, seemingly scorched in by some sort of flame. It was an ashen sort of gray that reminded him the dust after buildings were destroyed. The dim light of the street lamp left half his form in the dark.

His eyes narrowed downwards towards the hands of the fire mutant, now flopping freely. They dangled wildly like hooked pieces of raw meat. There was a knowing that passed through the air. The dark figure now knew that the mutant was practically useless without being able to throw fire through his hands. Even without that power, the young boy was stuck to the lamp pole with the slimy essence the hero called 'Ectoplasm'. It oozed over him like a sadistic blanket aiming to strangle instead of comfort. It was disturbing to watch so many tears come from someone that once stood as an immense threat to the alien. This... forgotten god had ensured that the threat be reduced to nothing more than a whimpering child. It was euphoric almost... to see someone once so powerful fall into the depths of their own personal terrors. In fear of death, people reveal their true identities. That mutant full of fiery rage was nothing more than a coward; a scavenger trying to make a quick buck off the backs of hard workers. Nothing more.

The dark figure's steps came slow and heavy. The young dark headed boy immediately bolted his head up and indescribable shock. He began to kick his feet wildly in a futile attempt to free himself as the shadow strode his direction. The fire mutant scampered and squirmed, but there was no way that he was breaking out of these binds without the aid of his fire abilities. Wails of anguish began to reverberate from his hoarse throat. It sounded no different than that of an infant crying for his mother with just the same amount of wild tears. In moments, the demonic being was hovering over him, its shadow casting darkness over him. The mutant looked down in shame, knowing what was to come next.

”You hold... in your hands an extraordinary power... Yet you use it to pilfer those who are not gifted as you are... IF you feel like being as so bold to create sin, bring it my way.... You'll find out real quick that it is no longer tolerable...,” It spoke, its voice hallow and whispy. The dark headed teen could do nothing but let liquid terror stream down the sides of his face. He shook, almost indefinitely , as if left out in arctic temperatures for too long. The terror had reached his core, shambling him as a man.

The dark figure's head snapped quickly back behind him, looking at the strange... thing standing before him. He looked at Jarthis with this stone cold stare. This one, however, was quite different. This glare was not one of disdain or hatred; nor was it one that was seizing him up for battle. A brief gust of wind passed down the empty streets, tossing the wicked being's jagged cape. Forgotten scraps of newspaper and leaves scrolled across the pavement around them. There was an earth shattering silence that seemed to yank at the fabrics of reality itself. For the moment, the alien looked upon him with the same horror that the mutant had moments ago.

”Ssscarrry...,” It spoke, its broken record voice trembled. It was strange, to hear such a... serpent like voice echoing from the throat of this being. It became evident to the dark figure that the creature was in no way a normal human. The more studied the bizarre creature, the more he found discrepancies that separated him from the normal subject. His hand seemed to be more of a slender claw than a palm with fleshy fingers. The strange thing also seemed to abnormally tall, standing even higher than him. The mask fooled no one, maybe a patron or two within the store, but it in no way convinced the dark hero before him. It was evident to him that the bizarre creature had no bearings or intentions of accompanying the men in robbing the store. If anything, from what his keen ears had picked up earlier, this thing was actually trying to put an end to their sinful antics.

”No... Dusk,” It spoke calmly, asserting that he would be no dark, vile enemy in the eyes of this ally. Suddenly, his super hearing snapped into gear as he heard the distinct clicking of a gun. A loud shout came from a chubby man and the hiss of the new found ally. Dusk heard the distinct clicking of the barrel. His eyes suddenly widened and his body went into an adrenaline fueled state. The Dark Avenger swirled through the air, pouncing on the thug like a panther finding its prey. He stayed on the criminal for but a moment, rolling through the pounce and snatching the left arm of the assailant. The Dusk hooked it over his shoulder and performed a perfect judo hip toss .The thug's spine cracked against the brick of the convenience store wall. He groaned as a quick resin of Ectoplasm was shot out and snatched him from the wall. The criminal was launched right back at the Shadow as he snatched the thug by the wrist. With a quick twirl while still holding the hand of the man, he cracked his wrist and twisted his arm. The painful act let out a horrid groan of agony and a drop of the handgun. There was a blur of a sharp toed foot as it kicked the footing out from under him, forcing his head to slam against the pavement. From the depths of the Dusk's cape, came a soaring, sharp elbow that deprived the man of consciousness.

The Dusk sat there for a moment, crouched like a panther over his defeated prey. He looked forward indefinitely, adjusting his ears to make sure no more of these sinners were about to climb out of the walls and assault him. The shadowed hero slowly crept to his vertical base. One of the horns on his head seemed to twitch very slightly. His head snapped over down the road to his read.

”Sirens... In the distance.. They are coming....,” He murmured beneath his husk breath. His head then turned to the alien, still standing awestruck at the wicked prowess of the being.

”You should leave... The Police aren't... fond of our kind....,”

Without another word, he was a whisper in the wind. Jarthis had barely gotten the opportunity to see him leave his sight. The shadowed hero was gone within the blink of an eye. Certainly such was impossible! No man could simply blink out of place! No one could ever be that fast! Then again, it was rumored that this was no man at all...

In the distance, far off, there was a glimpse of something... something he knew.


It became evident to the alien at that moment that this domain was his... Where as he had hailed from a planet, this is where the dark being hailed from. This was the Dusk's city. He was the watchful overseer, keeping the ranks of the sinful in line and out of the realm of the innocent. He was their watcher, their wicked and powerful protector. That much was obvious now. It was reminiscent of the super heroes he'd seen within his many comic books, but much more frightening... more powerful. The Dark Avenger stood atop his perch on the building in the distance, the wind whipping his torn cape. It was glorious yet foreboding all at once. It was enlightening to see that this terrible city now had a guiding light to shield it from the darkness. But in the light's other hand, was a blood thirsty sword that reaped the sinful into submission. It was terrorfying to think of all the pain and suffering that the sinners would endure before peace was restored.


One thing was certain, The Dusk was defending his home.


And that is a place, you defend until the death.

The Dark Avenger hooked a fire escape, seamlessly tossing himself up to the ledge of an apartment complex building. He scampered onto the edge and slumped into his panther-esk pose, ready to pounce if need be. His claws stuck to the stone as his glowing orbs narrowed.

Over the years, the Dusk had become no stranger to the world of stealth and shadow. The darkness... the silence... it had welcomed him with open arms. They took him beneath their wing and became his deadly weapon against those who wronged others. He became much more than a simple man in a suit to these passing criminals. The Dusk had become a ruthless avenger of the victims, seeking out and terrorizing all who raised a finger against the innocent. He moved amongst the shadows, proving to the frightened mind that he was more a vile creature than a man with the hammer of justice. His stealth was uncanny, undeniably skillful. The sinners of Detroit's streets knew that far more than anyone else.

This made it incredibly obvious to the master shadow when he heard scampering steps with his keen hearing. It was astonishing that Dusk had not previously heard him until that very moment. The pursuer's mask of stealth was drenched in rambunctious steps and heavy breathing. It was uncanny that the follower had even tracking him down this far considering that the Shadow never left a trace nor sound in his escapes. It had been clear within their last meeting that the ally from the store was no mere human. He had to be of some alternate plane of existence or something of that sort. The idea sunk into the back of the tactician's mind that perhaps this... species or whatever it was had some better, enhanced way of tracking down its prey. Certainly, it had to have been the case.

The Dusk had simply faded from the Living Realm to the SuperNatural Plane to avoid being tailed by the mysterious creature. However, merely returning a block away was not enough to deter the bizarre being to stop pursuing him. The Shadow figured that leaving so quickly would give hint that he wished not to be bothered. However, for some reason, the creature insisted on tracking him down like some rat. He was no prey for some predator to be hunted down.

Dusk was the Predator of this City.

The Dark Avenger closed his eyes as he became urethral, fading to the twin Paranormal plane to Earth. His very presence in that plane of existence ceased entirely.

He cringed as the sensation overcame him; that of one surfacing from icy waters.

The world around him faded to a pale, washed out blue husk of the world that he had grown accustomed to. A dull fog loomed over every inch of the land, blanketing the world in a smoke of sorrow. The moon above him was a blackened green, illuminating the streets with a faded, nearly transparent yellow glow. The clouds of the sky were a deep indigo, crashing and contorting with violet clouds. They seemed stuck in a infinite trance, doomed to dance in this wicked realm forever. The sky shown no stars behind these clouds, only a black husk of an atmosphere. The air around the Shadow was distinctly frigid and cold, chilling his skin.


His eyes slowly opened, glowing as bright as ever. He rose slowly, allowing his gnarled cape to drift over him. Those orbs scanned the new realm around him. There were people in the distance, dark silhouettes of their Living Realm counterparts. These Pawns were no more than representations of the real human identities that walked the streets; just to show those lurking in the Forgotten Realm where the people are. Behind the occasional person, followed a washed out yellow figure, bleeding into the background as they walked.

These were the Ghosts. Souls that were trapped between the rift of Heaven and Hell. Lost and forgotten husks of former lives, doomed to wander this plane for the rest of time. It was always despairing to see such entities traveling through the Forgotten Plane. None of them had a purpose, nor meaning. They simply... existed because they had to. There was no gut wrenching punishment for eons to come in the Netherrealm... Nor was there glorious prosperity in Kingdom Come. There was just... emptiness. Many of these lost souls chose to 'haunt' their past loved ones; sticking by their side and doing everything in their power just to make a tiny inkling known of their existence. Some spirits are watchful protectors of their living loved ones, only pushing through the fabric to warn them of danger. Others are... more malevolent. Some spirits feel wronged for being trapped between the three deceased realms, turning into temples or anger and rage. These hauntings are typically more radical and violent, scaring those involved. Most Ghosts, however, stay wandering forever. Only the more powerful spirits gain the ability to push through the thin fabric between the Forgotten Realm and the Living Realm.

The Dusk stood high and proud, walking to the edge of the building. Within the smoke and shadows, he spotted an odd shaped silhouette walking amongst the dark of the alleyway. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the strange vigilante from earlier; the one that had attempted to stop the robbery first. It puzzled the Shadow as he looked down onto the being, now seemingly lost without any trace of Dusk being in that realm at all. What exactly did this thing want? Maybe the creature had found some fascination with the dark hero. Maybe the bizarre being found a threat in Dusk and came to hunt him down.

Either way, there were going to be answers.

The Dusk faded from the Forgotten Realm, trembling slightly as the icy feeling came over him once more. He was now crouched upon the fire escape behind the strange being. The wind tossed his tattered cape in the wind as he narrowed his glowing gray orbs.

”You... WILL NOT... hunt me creature. If you intend to do battle, I will eviscerate you... I promise you that...,” His words came harsh and unforgiving. His hollow voice echoed off the alley walls, bouncing at Jarthis from all directions. The dark figure was clearly in no mood for talk in his vile manner of speech. He was through with the cat and mouse chase through the night.

”... I led you here; this is a dead end alley... Same one I broke two men just last night...So don't get any ideas of flight... The only way out is past … me.” His voice snarled, foreboding a dark tragedy to occur once more.

There would be talking on that night.

The Shadow's icy stare seemed to differ, lifting an eyebrow oddly at the creature. His white orbs vanished in a blur as he fell from his perch high up on the railing. A puddle splashed as the darkness became one with the pavement just for a moment. The water skimmed towards the alien as the dark figure grew like a gnarled weed through a crack in the pavement. He stood like a demon straight out of Hell, crooked and ominous. Then his glowing orbs suddenly narrowed into a quiet squint that shook to the core.

”Look, I don't know what you are... nor do I care. We are allies tonight, but that is it... Don't think about following me again...,” Dusk spoke in his whisp of a voice. It came hollow and unforgiving, digging at the heart of Jarthis as he narrowed his eyes.

The Shadow stood there for a few moments more, awaiting some sort of answer from the strange beast. It was much more... disturbing up close. He could see beneath the mask what seemed to be some sort of mandibles frothing and moving about. Certainly this was no gimmick nor was it animitronics. Those had to be have been real... they were organic alright. Despite his outrage and claiming that he had no care to know what this thing was... but the more he looked, the more his interest was peaked.




This was no interest purely for knowledge. This was no curiosity. There was a suspicion brewing in the gut of the dark figure. He knew that most creatures from other dimensions were no good news to humanity. From this thing's bizarre appearance, it could be constituent that it was possible that it was not from this plane of existence. His gray orbs narrowed as he thought of the last interdimensional being he had done battle with. MeltDown was a wicked being endowed with powers far greater than any man could ever perceive. If he weren't so confident in his own abilities, Dusk very possibly could have been permanently dead. If Meltdown had stepped down from his American Hate for a moment and realized the power he truly had, he very well could have spread across the land like a nuclear plague over humanity.

A timid fear settled into the gut of the Dusk as he realized that he may be staring at yet another blight on humanity.

The alley around them fell to a veil of rayless shadows. Not even the feint moonlight at the end of the alleyway was visible any long. The two were plunged into an indescribable darkness that consumed and blackened all it touched. All, except to misty gray orbs narrowed at Jarthis.

There was complete and total silence that blanked out all other sounds. There was no cars, no air, not anything except the panicked, husky breathing of the alien. The void of sound left Jarthis able to hear his own racing heart beat. It presided over all other noises in the alley. A hallow wind could be heard in his ear faintly. It grew louder... and louder... slowly becoming some sort of wicked breathing. It wasn't one of an exhausted man, but that of someone trying to conceal their temper but failing horribly.

It became dreadfully obvious that this rageful breathing was coming from the vile being standing a few feet away from the alien. His exhales had turned into a deep grumble vibrating against Jarthis's ears. It seemed like an individual earthquake had found the alien. He was all alone being subdued by wicked powers he did not understand. The vengeance of this Shadow was seething at the bits to be unleashed. Jarthis would be his next victim if he was not careful.

”Where do you hail from....” Dusk snarled, shattering the barrier of silence in a horrifying shriek.

The more he stared at the creature, the more he got a cold feeling assembling beneath his gut. The Dusk dismantled his position upon the fire escape and soared down. The Shadow plummeted straight to the pavement, eviscerating a puddle as he landed. Water leaped through the air and splashed Jarthis in a drenching wave. Those icy gray orbs narrowed at the strange creature.
It was clearly no human. The mask made no decent effort to conceal the mandibles that sickeningly contorted and scrabbled beneath it. The oddities continued as the dark figure examined his odd hands which were waving about in protest. It stood bipedal and spoke broken English, but that is where the similarities ended with this bizarre... thing.

Not even the Dark Avenger could conceive what this being was. The only conclusion he could reach was that this being had come from another dimension entirely. Vile memories began to corrupt his mind of the last being he had met from a separate realm. It was a man called Victor Von Moronga, who had traveled to the land of the spirits after his tragic murder at the hands of a US general. Moronga made a pact with an unknown entity of the Paranormal Realm and turned his body into a radioactive conduit of unlimited power. The monster when on a rampage, aiming to destory the American governent. He went under the allias Meltdown as he took over the Washington D.C. Area, successfully murdering Dusk's best friend Carter and even Dusk himself. If Meltdown has not been so cocky as to try and create his own government after the incident, the Dusk would have not been able to assemble enough power in the afterlife to return and slay him. MeltDown could have traveled across the land, like a blight over humanity. He would be a walking nuclear holocaust, destroying anything he came close to.

He would NOT have that happen again...

The moonlight seemed to be suffocated. All the light in the world blacked out in the alleyway. The world became a vacuum of sound, only the quick heartbeat of Jarthis echoing off the walls

”Where are you from you... creature...[

Dusk stood as his tattered cape lifted in a passing draft. Impatience cut through the air like a knife as the glowing orbs narrowed into slits of rage and foul intention. The Shadow broke close to the creature, mere inches from its face. A terrible chill engulfed the area, causing a fog to pulse from the Dark Avenger. The temperature had surely dropped significantly, casting a shiver upon those who were near the duo. A layer of permafrost settled at the feet of the wicked being as his frustrations became the forfront of his intentions. The Dusk took but a moment to glance down at his vintage comic book.



It gave him great pause for a moment. Surely, an interdimensional monster wouldn't be carrying such idle fancies as a prehistoric comic book. It could easily be conceived that one could carry an object of the Living Realm to throw off suspicion of those who were aware of the other realms. However, simplistic items were usually the choice. Pens, pencils, phones, etc. were everyday normal posessions that could throw off suspicion. However, this... thing... had been carrying a comic book long beyond its time, probably worth some good money if it knew anything about the economic system. It was too out of place, even for an interplanar villian.



This gave Dusk no reason to lower his guard however. He aimed to clasp the wrist of the creature in a firm hold, bringing a harsh interrigation of fear into its soul. He stood, almost pressing his head against the bizarre being as he lowered his tone far beyond the reaches of any human.



"Earth? You are no human. Even the strangest of mutants still resemble their human roots. You are a... creature... A thing that has no place here... A being that has torn into this fate, not woven in at the start... Don't play coy with me beast, I am no fool. Your veil convinces no one. What are you? Don't make me ask a third time."

The Dusk sighed heavily, blowing a puff of blue fog out across Jarthis's face. His grasp on the creature's wrist released and his claw receded back into the darkness of his cloak. The permafrost around them began to slowly melt, dousing the area in a cold damp moisture. A puddle slowly formed beneath the two heroes from the melted ice. The skin of alien began to warm once more to the temperature of the night. The Dusk's feet clasped the cold pavement as he faded away from the foreign creature. Jarthis was met with the back of the Shadow's torn cape as he turned and faced the end of the alley. The corrupting silence lifted, allowing for the ever constant echoes of traffic to once again be faintly heard within the dampened alleyway.

For such a dark creature, the hero moved with quiet steps. Distance horns seemed to capture his attention, a slow stare tracing the sound across the night sky. A small gust of wind crawled across the brick walls of the alleyway, carrying with it the whispers of a broken man. A shambled being, sight deprived of the ache that curled inside his atria. The chill was still present in the alley, but it was no act of supernatural powers that created it. This was instead an ice of a man who has been frozen over for far too long. Someone eternally trapped in the frigid ice of his haunting past. Once the guard left his post, it became evident that his trail vengeance was only a for front for the anguish he was harboring in his very being. It radiated off the dark figure like the pale light off the moon. Even the alien was being forced to fight waves of despair emulating from the hero's persona.

The chilling moment was cracked with the small tweet from seemingly nowhere. A tiny splash was heard as a robin came down. His head dashed left and right at the two heroes standing in a trance of sadness. The horned head of Dusk slowly tilted over his shoulder at the peculiar little bird, showing no fear despite the two demons standing before it. He turned slowly, staring intently at the little robin. The bird made short hops, traveling right towards the dark figure. It was visible; the softness that overtook those haunting gray orbs. The robin stopped right at his feet, staring up at him like a long lost friend. Jarthis could feel the small crease of a small forming beneath the Dusk's mask. The intrepid avenger lowered his intimidating form down into an inviting crouch.

A bright chirp echoed off the walls of the alleyway. The bird then spread its wings then flew off into the distance. Dusk's head turned and watched its departure; a somber tone overcoming his wicked composure.

”We will meet again Jarthis... I'm sure of it.” He spoke without even as much as a glance behind him towards the alien. Without as much as another word, Dusk bent his legs and leaped high into the air. High in the sky, his arms spread his cape into a long glider like a bat's wings. The confident robin could be seen flying not to far ahead of the Shadow.