Lights flashed at the ledges of the building. Flashes of green, blue, and even orange shined down on the streets. Alongside the building were numerous people, some in groups, others with another person, or a few that were alone. To call it cramped would be an understatement, but how the street was flooded by rivers of water only meant that the sidewalk would be filled with people ranging in size. Stocky or skinny, tall or short, you state it. Yet among the people that stood on the wall was a man who wore boots, dark military cargo pants with pockets, and a belt with notable rods that dangled by his side. As he waited in the long column of people who spoke amongst themselves, the man talked his foot to the rhythm of the waves that bounced through the walls, though he seemed the only one who entertained himself through this method. Others delved into discussions about what they planned after visiting, how their day at work or class went, who they wished could come, or who would just disappear. One moment he could have sworn he overheard a discussion about which bottled water was the best in a scenario about being stranded in a desert. Amused but uninterested he continued with his lone rhythm game to the front of the line as it moved along. Reaching an entryway, a well-dressed man wearing a sleeveless Hawaii shirt raised his palm at the man.

"Where do you think you're going oh Father?" He asked. Jokingly with a short chuckle.

The man could not fault the joke, his top did-was a crude attempt at crafting a priest's gown, though was obvious that he didn't have enough fabric to complete the rest.

"Identification please," the bouncer said. Following his request, the man reached into his pockets and passed a card with a picture and information.

"Oulis Anduc," the bouncer stared at the man before continuing. "Age fifty-three, residence Manhattan, New York," the man looked at the bouncer, sharpening his eyes.

"Not one to judge names, but everything looks all clear." Bouncer then opened the gate and held out the card. "Enjoy your stay, city-man," the bouncer said. Passing back the card, the man shuffled his way past him and through the door.

The music bounced around the room with the help of the walls that surrounded the area. People filled the room either sitting at the roundtables with others standing where they danced or because the seating was limited. Dressed in attire that many would consider vulgar even to the most open group you know. In the crowd there was the man who walked through the groups of people, pushing past them without any warning but it seemed many of the people did not mind much, as they dismissed him quickly. Walking he felt the long two short poles dangle by his belt, colliding into the legs of patrons and the man himself briefly.

Making his way through he scanned the room of people making sure to look out for one detail that he was accustomed to identifying. His scanning would lead him to a group of women who wore dresses that with the light gave their color a blue hue, but he knew what to look for. The group of women didn't seem to have noticed him, but he knew exactly what he had to do, reaching the clip that kept the rods chained he gripped them into his hand and would hit the floor in a sequenced rhythm. The heads of the people had paid no mind to the rods, but few in the group turned in the man's direction and once they stared he had begun to pick up his speed. Doing so those who turned had excused themselves from the group and pushed past many of the other people in the room, trying to disappear but the man observed the area.

Coming close to the one group, one of them stepped in front of the man and looked at him with annoyance.

"The H old man? Who do you think you are to scare off our friends?" she asked him.

His eyes rolled over to the women's direction and continued his pursuit for them, bumping past the obstacle in front of him. Bumping into even more people he would begin to extend his hand and get physical with many of the patrons some of who were not shy in voicing their annoyance. Yet continued to ignore their voices, keeping up his pursuit while he continued to tap the floor to continue to the rhythm. Soon people from hearing the voices of the people before them would step out of the way in an attempt to not be pushed which uplifted the man's mood enough that he picked up the pace from a speedwalk to a jog. With a clear path, he continued his pursuit where he was able to see the backs of the group which insinuated him to increase his speed after them, watching as they broke for a set of double doors and disappeared.

Not stopping he followed them through the set doors out into the back of the building to find no one in sight. Wasn't much until he scanned the area to find a fire escape ladder that was at the corner of the building where he could identify some people rushing up the sets of stairs. Assured he jogged to the ladder and scaled it till he reached the stairs and scaled those as well, hearing the many voices that belonged to the people above him. In a matter of minutes, he reached the top of the fire escape and atop the very building he was inside moments ago, finding the select group of six dressed individuals looking at him. Though he was certain there had been a change in appearance for over half of them.

What once was six women was now two women and four men, a radical change from what he saw inside the building, appears they were in the middle of alterations. Scanning the people that positioned themselves several feet away from him, not risking this chance he gripped the batons tighter and awaited their next move, cautiously he stepped forward. Suddenly he heard a growl come from his east to find one woman lunging in his direction with eyes that glowed red even making a trail as she got closer. Quickly he swung his right baton at the woman and connected, with a strong enough force that sent her falling straight down. On the ground the body began to smoke then dust appeared on her face that only continued, earning a scream to escape until it ceased. The five stared at her ignoring the man, but he stared as well before looking back at the remaining five.

"Fletchlings," he said. His voice sounded a tad bit unamused.

"He killed Jane!" one of them said.

Refocusing he saw two of the men rush him, quickly he raised the batons and swung them hitting the elbow of the two respectfully. Both grunted from the smoke that escaped but pressured on, with the man not losing focus. One man had torn off the sleeve of their shirt which morphed into a pike that he didn't waste any time with, thrusting it at the man who used his batons to parry it. Then retaliate with swings of his baton that impacted the face with smoke escaping from the zone, in came the other man who threw a fist that contacts with the man's arm, pushing him back from the force it unleashed. Gliding on his feet he would come to a halt by the edge of the building, and focused on regaining his balance.

"What is he?" one of the men questioned the other.

"No clue, but one thing is for sure. He killed Jane, and we need to repay him," the woman said.

In unison, all agreed and as one all four rushed the man, who had regained his balance and waited for them. The pike man trusted to which he retaliated by swinging his baton on the pike and swung the other onto his face once more, connecting and releasing even more smoke. Unable to hold it in, the piker screamed before his face crumbled and his body fell.

"Eugine!"

"You monster!"

Sounds of torn sleeves would reveal to be the woman whose arms muscles had increased in size, and like the two before she wasted no time in rushing the man who got his batons and swung at her the moment she threw a fist. Clashing they traded swings with notable smoke escaping from the fists and dust crumbling onto the ground, connecting his swings but with a mistimed swing she would land a hit onto the man's face disorientating him enough that more of her punches landed on various locations. Three to his stomach, five to his arms, and two on his face that followed after the first then a sudden hit from a ball that bounced off his knee that made him stumble.

Falling to a knee he felt the next wave of punches connects with him, the ball he felt connected with his face along with the punches, following that he felt his batons be pulled out of his grip. Fixating his eyes, he saw one of the men with a whip that he used to toss the batons aside. Next, the whip would be lashed towards his neck that it wrapped around and be pulled towards him which would complement the punches and balls that would barrage his body. Coughing from the number of assaults done to his body he raised his hand where he would catch one of the woman's fists and grabbed a hold of her arm where he would pulled her close and throw a fist with his brace-covered hand aimed at her nose, which would make contact. Stopping everything she would stumble backward to find what would be a nosebleed was instead a dust crumbling, her vocal cords went high, and using the confusion he gripped the whip around his neck and pulled hard enough away and using his strength he snapped it, with the gushing of red liquid coming soon after.

More vocal cords would exclaim at a high volume from the two people and hearing them allowed the man to get onto his feet and rush the woman whose attention was on her nose, with a gap closing lunge he threw a punch at her cheek where dust would appear, then another and another, soon he would be punching dust that crumbled away and the body fell. The man turned to the remaining men and one turned to the others before running at him raising his right leg ready to launch it, only to be stopped by the man who had run towards him and threw a strong jab into his abdomen, causing him to fall to his knees.

The man looked down at him and hummed before turning to the dressed man with the ball which he dared to kick again. Seeing this he rushed at him in a sprint that closed the gap between the two, and with all of his strength he slammed his fist into the man numerous times until his face crumbled by the dust. Two remained, one who was on his back with an arm that gushed out red liquid profusely and the other who remained on his knees. The man switched his attention away from the two and to his batons that were nearby and picked them up in a haste. Once in his possession, he began marching to the grounded gushing man where he brought one of the batons up and plunged it on his face, making sure to rub it before lifting it and slamming the other hand, to which dust would overtake the screaming then silence.

Finished with him, he walked to the one who looked upwards whilst on his knees. He tapped the batons on the ground in a rhythm to which the kneed man visibly shook. Quickly he circled the last of his group making sure to not skip a beat of the rhythm.

"August, Freddy... Tommy," he said. Shaking, he looked at the man. "You, you're a monster!"

The man looked at the dressed man before stopping in front of him ceasing his baton tapping.

"Jocelyn Cooper." He said. Commandingly. "Where is she?"

The man's eyes were curved. He shook his head only for the man to tap the baton lightly on his knees, earning a wince from him.

"Now," he said. With even more weight in his voice.

"I-I don't know who you are talking about," the man said.

Once more he tapped the baton on the knee earning another wince.

"I'm telling you. I don't know," he repeated. Shaking, his eyes darted to the corner that did not go unnoticed by the interrogator.

Turning his head he saw a bridge in the distance, one that he knew was not much of anything. All it fulfilled was getting someone from point A to B, but this man darted to it. Returning his attention he had found something new with the man, to be exact at his neck.

Raising his baton he hit the knee of the shaking man earning another wince.

"Tell you once, pull your collar down," he said.

The fletching wasted no time and complied with the order. Pulling down would reveal streaks of a black design that made the interrogator kick the fletchlings' at the side of his head.

"Lie to me again," he said. Returning the left baton to his belt, he would begin twirling the baton in his right hand with an audible swing.

"C-cooper. I don't know anyone called that, but I am aware of someone named April," the fletchling said. Shaking, he cleared his throat. "She works at the hospital usually on Thursdays or Saturdays. That's all I know!"

Confessing at this point, the interrogator kept his eyes on the fletching. Furrowing his brows, he raised the baton and whacked the side of the fletchling earning a scream.

"Who turned you?" He asked. Twirling his baton in the meantime.

"She did. Mentioned that I had a gift that I needed to use for the good of her-our people," he said. With a quick draw of breath and grit of his teeth, revealed pointed corners.

The interrogator looked at the fletching one more time before raising his baton, ready to strike until he felt the piercing sensation go through his left calf. Taking a knee whipping his head back he saw a few men and women wearing police uniforms with handguns aimed at him.

"Louis Duncan! This is officer Sánchez, ordering you to drop your weapons and raise your hands where we can see them!" Ordering the interrogator.

He eyed the fletching to find his eyes glowing and a curve at the corner of his lips, almost fighting the urge to laugh. Glaring at the fletchling, he returned the baton to its clip of the belt and rose, even raising his hands.

"Gomez, cuff him," the officer said. Hearing the oncoming footsteps, the man rubbed his left hand onto its palm in quick succession, he swung it behind him, where a wall of smoke would appear providing cover.

Yelling from the officers would enter the stomp sphere, but that did not matter for the man, making sure to turn to the fletching only to find nothing but clothes left behind. Gritting his teeth he sprung into a sprint to reach the west edge of the building. In a haste he felt more piercing travel through his legs and stomach by the time he reached the edge, using the speed he jumped over the ledge and down to the floor, where he would make a splash.

Washing in the river, he would dive deeper to avoid detection and under the water, he swam away from the building and go elsewhere. The currents of the river were sporadic, one moment he'd be in control the next five he would be carried into an unknown direction. With this knowledge he ceased his movement and let the waves do their job, before he could register his direction by opening his eyes, he'd stop coming in contact with a ridged cement wall. Knowing he reached a stop he swam upwards to the surface to find the underpart of a bridge, and with enough strength, he lifted himself out of the water and onto cement ground just at the edge of the water.

Rising he'd remove his top to dry, his belt which the batons dangled from, and left his legs to dangle over the water. Looking to the west and east, he knew where he had washed up, the grand bridge, he was certain he'd lost the patrol. Knowing this he stared straight to see more of this grand bridge underside and exhaled.

"Two thousand-five," Louis said. With beaten breath.

The night wind was calm. The tires of cars echoed on the streets. Streets that inhabited the grand bridge of Madalina City. The city's citizens walked along the sidewalk that accompanied the bridge, and many varied ages. Voices of young children screaming from excitement to passive talking of adults or enthusiastic singing of performers looking for an extra penny. Yet none of them compared next to the man who sat just below them but to be perfectly honest, it was for the best. Sitting at the ledge with his legs dangling over the water wearing now dirty standard cargo pants and boots, he sat. Wearing a wet yet loose blank white shirt, with his accompanying bracers with the wet top part of a priest gown that he crudely made sitting by his lap side.

"One hundred forty-two years of searching. Yet back to square one," he said. Shutting his eyes and exhaling a disappointed breath. He pulled his legs away and fell on his back connecting with the stone ground. His shoulders shuddered but kept himself down.

Looking at the bridge many thoughts went about inside his head. Yet the one that tuned inside the most was the pulsing ache that came from out of the blue. His eyes shot open, and, in a panic, he grabbed for his head with his hands and squeezed hard in an attempt to dull the ache. He gritted his teeth, with some that had been sharpened at points, and his ears began to ring with the sound of those above. From the excited children to the mundane speech, followed by the enthusiastic singing, his lips began to water by his tongue that had licked them from thinking about those he heard. Turning onto all fours, he looked to his right to find the stairs that would lead him to the top, instinctually he began to crawl towards them, putting one hand in front of the other, gaining speed similar to a raccoon.

Crawling, his lips had watered even more, with visible saliva drooling escaping his mouth, some of it landing on the ground but also onto his right hand leading him to look at the sudden touch where he examined it but kept his eyes still. Atop his hand that the brace covered were his fingers whose nails had sharpened but it was his finger near the pinky that had his attention. Around the finger was a rusted iron ring with etched letters of 'L' and 'R', the ringing in his ears began to fade, the aching soon dulled, and his drool began to subside. Blinking his eyes and shaking his head, he sat cross-legged and took hold of his right hand, and hugged it close to his chest, where a pendant dangled.

"Remi, thank you..." he said.

Hugging the ring tighter he felt the pounding in his chest calm down but remained seated as the sounds of the people above continued...