Friday 12:30 a.m. November 4th

Legs dangling off the roof of Cole's Quality Foods, Vergil hugged his arms to his chest in an effort to control the shivering running rampant through his body. No matter how many Idaho winters Vergil endured, they still managed to catch him off guard. In the intervening months, memories of the biting wind faded, over the past few days, they renewed their assault with a vengeance, cutting through his hoodie, stocking cap, and hand-knit gloves like tissue paper.

    "You really are an imbecile. I told you to buy some winter clothes if you were going to insist on this foolishness, but once again, my infinite font of wisdom has fallen on deaf ears," Albert said, curled up in Vergil's lap.

I'm like his throne.

    "Who's the one that's lived here for twenty four years? I know when it's time to get new clothes, and now isn't it," Vergil said trying to stifle the shivers in order to prove his point.

    "If I didn't know any better, I would suspect this is some misguided attempt at self punishment," Albert said.

    "Good thing you know better," Vergil replied.

    For being such an enormous pain in the ass, Albert had a sixth sense when to stop pushing..

    Vergil felt Albert sigh against his legs "How many more nights of this must I endure?"

    "As many as it takes," Vergil replied, "But tonight is the night, I feel it."

    "Vergil, I really do find this hero complex and infallible determination of yours quite admirable, but it may be more palatable in small doses, and in warmer locales."

    "Stop playing the victim you old grump. No one's dragging you out here."

    "Oh please, the one evening that I leave you to your own devices, I have no doubt you will manage to be the engineer of your own demise."

    "Aww Albert, it's so adorable you care about me!" Vergil said scooping up the dog and squeezing him to his chest.

    "Unhand me heathen!" Albert huffed.

    A metallic clattering rang through the night, adding its voice to the whistling \ wind. Vergil set the dog down and pressed a finger to his lips. The two scanned the streets for the source of the noise. A pair of meows echoing down Falls Ave. gave them their answer. A cat fight.

    Past midnight, Lancet Falls became a ghost town, even high schoolers didn't stay out after dark. No one spoke of it openly, but they could feel it, the pall settling over town. People were scared for their lives, but the fear ran deeper than that. The good people of Lancet Falls feared what they didn't understand. Kids going missing, folks getting disemboweled, and killers on the loose were matters that the inhabitants of Lancet Falls hadn't been equipped to handle, and they knew it. That meant the task fell on the shoulders of a super drunk and his belligerent talking dog.

    Vergil and Albert had spent the last two nights perched atop various rooftops on the lookout for the killer to strike again. When the body of Cade Jahns had been found hanging outside O'Connell's, Vergil arrived on the scene, too late to be of any help, but early enough to see the gruesome message the killer left behind. Three more yummy flies; The letters scrawled across the sidewalk in blood.

    Saul's death triggered something in Vergil. At that moment, Vergil made a decision. His own life was secondary. The lives of others needed to take precedence over his own. That's why he had been so miserable; he wasn't doing what he was meant to do. Vergil Wilson had one purpose, to forget himself in the service of others. Life hurts less that way.

    Regardless of how undeserving he was, Vergil had been entrusted with a gift, and he intended to do his best to utilize it. The past month had been dedicated to rigorous physical training to hone Vergil into an instrument for the betterment of society. Images of people in capes, tights or super suits drifted through his mind. Heroes. Vergil knew better. He was no hero, but he would do his best.

    Vergil and a reluctant Albert had put Vergil through a series of rigorous tests to ascertain the limits of his "powers."  A fist-sized, purple bruise on his lower back proved that he might be bulletproof, but Vergil wasn't in a rush to try that one out again. When Vergil hadn't reached his energy maximum, any attempt to break his skin or do lasting harm was fruitless, but once he reached carrying capacity, all bets were off. At full power, he could jump five stories and punch through cars and brick walls. The most interesting discovery came from research in a physics textbook. It stated that "that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." In theory, walls and cars were hitting him back just as hard, so it stood to reason that Vergil's bones and muscles had been reinforced as well.

    None of that did a lick of good, if he didn't have any crime to stop. Despite his newfound abilities, Cade Jahns had still been killed on Vergil's watch, and he wasn't going to fail again. So there he stood, Vergil Wilson, in matching purple hoodie, stocking cap pulled over his face, and gloves, ready to protect Lancet Falls.

No matter how many cold nights it takes.

    Despite Albert's protests to the contrary, Vergil thought Albert and him were more alike than the dog cared to admit. The schnauzer never went into too much detail, but Vergil gathered that he felt like a powerless bystander watching the Master and the Little Master muddle through life's struggles. Vergil and his crusade were a worthy pursuit for the dog to sink his teeth into, and the dog would accompany Vergil through all the freezing nights it took.

    The pair passed the time arguing about their favorite movies. Apparently, the Master had been a bit of a film buff as well, so Vergil and Albert never ran out movies to disagree about. In the back of his mind, Vergil still longed for a drink. He always longed for a drink. He imagined the sweet nectar traveling down his throat and permeating his entire body, its sweet embrace making him forget the chill and the soreness in his muscles. Shivering sure takes a lot of energy. Some vigilante I am. Sitting here and getting sore from the cold. Hey, at least I'm sober.

    Discussing the merits of Stanley Kubrick's, The Shining, a brilliant violet light infused the night sky. From its distant vantage, Vergil could still feel its radiance resonate with the energy that suffused his being. In the back of his mind, Vergil knew that the vibrant effervescence was not of this world, not human. That scared Vergil, not because of its strangeness, but because of its familiarity. A part of him felt one with it, a part that he knew wasn't of this world anymore. Does that make me something more or something less?

    "Vergil, I've got the strangest feeling. I feel... in between."

    "It's that light."

    "Yes, I do believe it is."

    "We need to go there."

    "I have no earthly idea why we would do something like that."

    "If we don't, no one else will."

    Albert sighed and crawled into Vergil's backpack. Diverting a trickle of energy into his legs, Vergil started hopping between the rooftops towards the drive-in. As he got closer, the mental picture of a moth incinerating itself in a bug zapper crossed his mind. At least it would be quick.

    The town water tower loomed in the distance, the last stop before he would have to make his journey on foot. They traversed the distance quickly and stopped to take a breather. It would make a good lookout before they plunged into the unknown. Vergil upended his backpack, dumping Albert and his supplies onto the metal walkway. He retrieved a pair of binoculars from the mess.

A memory rushed unbidden into his mind, he and Danny smoking cigarettes talking about the future. They'd made a pact to stay in Lancet Falls forever, start families and bask in the simplicity of it all. The last Vergil had heard, Danny Jimenez worked for an advertising agency in Missoula doing graphic design. We all told him people would pay for his drawings. Guess he finally listened.

    Vergil shook his head, dispelling the memory and wishing he'd packed some Morgan in his utility bag. He pressed the dollar store binoculars to his face. He had to squint to make anything out through the brilliance of the light. Two man-shaped figures stood in the center of the light, but at the same time, there wasn't anyone there. Vergil got the impression of those cheesy holograms in the original Star Wars movies, but instead of particles of light flickering, they felt like semi-corporeal forms phasing in and out of existence.

    A gentle thrumming played in the background. The whole thing felt like a scene transposed from a video game, and a machine was loading characters into Vergil's reality. The events that played out, froze Vergil in place, the gravity of it all. He felt out of his depth. A screw up that couldn't even manage to be successful in a small town in Idaho should not be the sole witness to whatever it was that was happening here. But here I am.

    The machine's revving grew in intensity until Vergil could feel the vibrations in his perch. The sound reached its zenith, and the two figures were there to stay. It was hard to tell, but from Vergil's vantage, it looked like they were feeling each other up. The two seemed satisfied with the activity and stepped aside, and the process of two more figures phasing into existence began.

    Movement registered in the edges of Vergil's vision. A small form, a child, rushed towards the epicenter of the violet light. The shapes that had completed the process noticed the little one and moved to stop it, but they were a fraction too late. Vergil watched the agile form dive past them into the two materializing silhouettes. Like an eye closing, the light blinked shut, and three forms disappeared along with it.

    Vergil set the binoculars aside and blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the absence of the luminescence. The feeling extended beyond his eyes. The entirety of his body needed to adjust to its departure, like a piece of himself had left along with it.

"I suggest you pull yourself together if you would like some answers to your questions. It would appear two of those individuals have decided to remain, and they appear to be in a hurry."

    Vergil jolted into motion reaching for Albert. The dog avoided his grasp.

    "Before you charge in guns blazing, I strongly caution you to apply critical thinking to the situation at hand."

    "I don't have time for you to be a smug, condescending bastard right now. It's time for some answers. I'm not going to let what happened to Saul go unanswered," Vergil said thirst tickled the back of his throat. The name still sent a jab of pain into his psyche.

    "God bless you, is that head of yours purely for ornamentation? The second they arrive they already have a destination in mind. Wouldn't you agree it would be far more beneficial in the answers department to find out where they are headed?"

    The fervor deflated from Vergil, "I hate you for being right."

    "It's a wonder you're not used to it by now. Let's stop flapping our gums, and get down to business shall we?"

    The forms moved at a brisk pace, but never more than a steady walk. The type of pace as  not to draw any attention. This struck Vergil as funny, because people out walking after 1 a.m. stuck out like a sore thumb, not that he was complaining. It made them easy to follow.

    The pair walked side by side in perfect unison directly towards the water tower. Realizing this, Vergil inched his way around the metal grating, so the metal cylinder of the tower was between Vergil and the duo's field of vision. Vergil motioned for Albert to follow his lead, and the dog attempted the journey. Each click-clack of Albert's claws against the metal grating made Vergil flinch, but if the shapes below heard, they gave no outward indication.

    Soon, their backs were to Vergil and Albert as they power walked into town. Upon closer inspection, something about the figures caught Vergil's attention. At this distance, it was hard to mistake them for anything other than men. Men that looked like they had been copied and pasted from The Godfather. Their retreating forms were bedecked in long trench coats and fedoras. In spite of the bizarre circumstances, Vergil couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They'd be less conspicuous if they were running naked through the streets.

    Albert arched an eyebrow at Vergil, and he offered the dog a shrug in return.

    "If I don't laugh, I'll cry," Vergil whispered.

    "I still can't decide if the humor of humans is lost on me, or if you have a severe deficit."

    "Maybe you're just not funny?"

    Albert laughed, the condescending laugh of a college professor that can't hide his amusement at the adorable innocence of the uneducated masses.

    "Good one Vergil. There's hope for you yet."

    Vergil looked in the distance. The men were hundreds of yards down the length of Jackson Street, their diminishing forms lit by the muted glow of the streetlights. Satisfied they were far enough away, Vergil and Albert started tailing the two men Vergil was beginning to think of as invaders. Whether they were aliens or something else entirely, Vergil knew one thing, they're intruders in Lancet Falls, and that made them invaders in his eyes.

    Vergil knew that he was from graceful, but felt proud in his ability to follow them in relative silence. Over the years, he'd developed a knack for not being noticed, and the time had come for it to start paying dividends. Vergil's silent pursuit took them down Jackson Street, back onto Falls Ave., and terminated on Lancet Street. The entirety of the journey, the men never turned their heads once or even slowed down for that matter. They maintained their unerring pace, unaware that anything was amiss.

    On cue, the pair stopped their march and took a left down the alley between Rolberto's and what used to be Hampton's Hems and Haws, the mom and pop establishment that functioned as a tailor and suit shop of the now deceased, Lyle and Jill Hampton. Their abrupt change in direction put them out of Vergil's line of sight. He scrambled to get a view of the alley, but by the time he restored line of sight, The Invaders were nowhere to be found.

    Pooling energy into his legs, Vergil launched himself into the air, for the first time that night, the bite of winter felt good. The rush of wind over his face made him feel alive and powerful. Vergil had even begun to love the feeling of his stomach dropping as the sensation of free-fall overcame him. Seconds before hitting the pavement, Vergil retracted the energy from his legs, so as to not crack the concrete.

    The mouth of the alley loomed in front of Vergil, and he took the plunge, feeling invigorated by the fresh injection of energy, courtesy of free fall acceleration. He proceeded forward in an awkward combination of wariness, because of potential ambush, and haste, so that he didn't lose sight of their trail.

    By the time he'd reached the one way street at the end of the alley, Vergil still hadn't caught sight of them. Acting on pure instinct, Vergil veered right against what would be the flow of traffic during the day. Sure enough, a door hung ajar behind Hampton's.

    "Albert, flashlight!" Vergil said, sprinting towards the opening.

    Grumbling, Albert tucked his head into the contents of Vergil's backpack. The dog had perfected the art of grumbling under his breath even though his only mode of communication was telepathy.

    Vergil reached behind his head, and the flashlight was dropped into his hand.

    "Don't grow accustomed to me acting as your servant. The only reason I acquiesced to your request was because of the extraordinary circumstances which we find ourselves in," the dog said as Vergil inched open the door to the abandoned store.

    Vergil flicked on the flashlight, and the immediate surroundings were illuminated by a weak yellow light. I've really gotta stop getting these things from the dollar store. The room he found himself in must have been the back office. It looked like it had been untouched since the Hampton's untimely demise. The store had been left to their son, Lucas. Vergil thought he lived somewhere in California but it looked like the death of his parents didn't merit a visit.

    A pen and paper sat on the desk, the pen still clicked open. Lyle had probably been working on this the night he-. Vergil had a hard time even thinking the word die, or that the man who'd sized his tuxedo for the senior prom wouldn't be sizing anymore suits.

    Pulling himself out of the cesspool of memories, Vergil continued onwards, through the door and onto the selling floor. The room was packed; suited figures stood legion. The original pair had led him into a trap where they could dispose of him without a fuss. Vergil charged forward; he didn't plan to go out without a fight.

Vergil portioned one third of his energy into his shoulder and the other third into his legs. He lowered his shoulder and barreled into the masses, hoping to punch a hole in their ranks. Vergil's body slammed into the first Invader, and was met with no resistance. His body passed through the form and kept moving forward into a thin metal beam. The structure crumpled like a tin can, and got entangled with Vergil's tumbling form. Vergil and Albert found themselves in a heap of suits, coat hangers, and a metal rack.

    Albert emitted a groan, "Splendid, just splendid. I've always found the element of surprise to be vastly overrated."

    Vergil sprang to his feet and did a quick sweep of the room with his flashlight. All he saw were three rows of suits collecting dust. They're in here somewhere. I can feel it.

    Vergil proceeded to the center of the room and motioned for Albert to come to him. Albert stared at Vergil for a long second, murder in his eyes, before joining Vergil's position.

    They stood at the first of three rows. In his mind, Vergil knew that if The Invaders were going to strike, they would have done it by now, but knowing something was different than feeling something. Vergil felt that around the next corner they were waiting, waiting for Vergil to walk right into them, so they could knock him out with some sort of otherworldly equivalent of chloroform. He imagined waking up on a metal slab, fully conscious, with his abdominal cavity ripped open while men in suits discussed the weather on the planet Krypton over a meal of barbecued Vergil intestine.

    Nerves on edge, Vergil inched down the center aisle towards the second row. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, but it made no sense. Armed with his flashlight, Vergil jumped into the middle of the second row. Nothing.
    One row remained. Vergil braced himself and sprang forward, flashing his light down the row. Nothing.

That wasn't quite true. At the end of the row, two forms lay on the ground, unmoving. Vergil paused. The situation reminded him of that Tom Cruise movie, War of the Worlds. The aliens had mounted a full scale invasion on Earth, but hadn't taken into account the toxicity of Earth's atmosphere and died in droves. Had The Invaders fallen victim to a similar fate? Nope, not with my luck.   

Whether or not they were dead, or unconscious, or whatever they were, they'd given Vergil an opportunity. He intended to capture them, and when they came to, they were going to give him some long awaited answers. As he got closer, Vergil realized how foolish he'd been. What he'd mistaken for bodies, were the limp, discarded suits The Invaders had been wearing.   

The feeling of being watched increased a thousand fold, and Vergil swung the flashlight around him, desperate to catch a glimpse of the watchers or a trap that had waited to be sprung. Nothing.

"Vergil lad, I do believe they've given us the slip," Albert said.   

"No! They're in here somewhere. I can feel it," Vergil shouted.   

"Come on lad! Use your head, the evidence is lying right at your feet. It is clear as day. They've switched their apparel into something a little less conspicuous and left out the other end. The reason they didn't confront us is because we couldn't hope to identify them if we tried. Not only would we sound absolutely bonkers, but the clever bastards kept their faces shielded the whole time thanks to those laughable fedoras."   

"Please. Just stop talking. For once." This is all my fault. I let them get away.   

Vergil sunk to his knees. Albert sat across from him with a look that Vergil recognized. Pity. He couldn't say he blamed the dog. Every color of light in the world could give Vergil every power he could think of, and it wouldn't change what he was. Pathetic.

Vergil decided staying upright required too much energy, and he slunk onto his side. Dust puffed into the air entering Vergil's nose and mouth. He lie there coughing and wanting nothing more than a drink to clear his throat and cloud his mind, and before he knew it, Vergil was crying again.

"I'm afraid my tolerance for this flood of self-pity you wallow in has reached its conclusion for the evening; I'll catch the matinee on the morrow. While you were blubbering in your own inadequacy, I found an object of interest," Albert said, all trace of what Vergil had assumed was the dog's version of tough love were gone.   

Still coughing, Vergil pulled himself to a sitting position. After a few raspy dry heaves, Vergil tamed the coughs and stared at the dog in sullen expectation.

"Much better. What do you make of this?" Albert said, scooping something into his mouth and plopping it in Vergil's lap.   

Vergil stared at the object, "It's a book Sherlock. Probably left behind by the Hamptons."   

"Look again."   

Vergil grabbed the volume and realized his error. It was bound in a material the color of dull ivory. The binding was neither leather nor paper; it was sturdier than both. Running his hands over the surface, Vergil was struck by how smooth and slick the cover felt, while remaining solid. The words "flexible bone" sprang to mind, and at that moment, he knew that they were true. A black symbol that resembled an upside down V stood emblazoned on the cover.   

He thumbed his fingers through the book. Its pages rivaled the binding in peculiarity. They were a black that mirrored the symbol on the front cover. Vergil pinched a page between his fingers and the texture was that of the silky, smooth texture of his pajama pants. Indecipherable white symbols were scrawled over the page in haphazard patterns. The symbols resembled nothing more than the chaotic thought processes of a scientist's mind at work, even across worlds, it seemed some things remained constant.   

"It appears as if our little experiment had an adverse effect on our friend here."    Lancet Falls is the experiment.   

"First thing tomorrow, I'm getting a drink."

SaintCole here, live and in text,

Originally, this one was supposed to be before the Jordan chapter, but I felt like they worked better this way. I'm glad that we are finally getting back to the men in suits. It's where the fun really starts to begin!

I think Vergil could really use a vote.

What do we think of Vergil's new calling in life? What do you think the suited figures are here for? Is Albert being too hard on Vergil? I wanna know all you guys thoughts!

I would like to take a moment to thank everyone. This is by far my biggest project and everyone here is a large reason why it's still going. I hope the story of these characters means as much to you as it does for me.