"They're hunting again.

I can smell them. I can hear them.

Can't you feel it? That sense of being watched? Yeah, that's them, all right. I've been able to sense them for a few hours now. You've got one behind you, even as we speak. Oh, don't bother turning around, Gaw. It just swivels around your head and stares at you from behind. I'm killing it now. Just by telling you about it, it's dying. I can see that it's dying, Gawain. It's fading. As soon as yours is dead you'll be able to sense them as well."

My good old friend, Gawain, was staring at me with a look of disbelief in his eyes.

We were sitting in the living room of his house. A cozy place, but too large for a bachelor like Gawain. He was a decent looking man, though I don't make much of a habit of studying handsome men. He had dark eyes and short red hair, and worked for the CIA, though I don't think I was supposed to tell you that.

"Are you telling me the truth here, Sullivan?" When I nodded, he sat back, worried. "Sull, this is crazy. Everybody has a touch of paranoia, especially on dark streets at night, but this is possibly the most cockeyed excuse for it I've heard in my entire life, and I've heard some doozies."

"Gaw, have I ever said anything like this before?" I leaned forwards. "I've always been the stable one, Justin was always the one to believe every little thing that came his way. Remember back in high school? If I ever said anything, I made SURE it was the truth."

"Not always." Gawain smirked. "Remember that time when-"

"That was COMPLETELY different!" I interrupted. "I was drunk."

"When you're drunk, does your Watcher get hazy eyed as well and start hitting on female Watchers, saying that it's an Olympic swimmer and-"

"Gawain-This isn't a laughing matter." I paused, examining the strange color that his Watcher was turning. It was buzzing behind him, and the iris was changing a delicate shade of blue. "Look, I'm telling you this because I think I could use your help. You're possibly the best swordsman in the city."

"I am THE best swordsman in the city." He glanced at a glass case next to his fireplace containing several swords. Though they looked decorative, I knew them to be sharp and fully functional weapons.

Gaw's Watcher was fading slowly into nothingness. He narrowed his physical eyes at me. "Why swords? No one used BLADED weapons anymore unless they're trying to be dramatic. And the dramatic ones end up getting plugged."

I shrugged. "I don't think that bullet's will do much to these things."

"Have you TRIED it?"

"Gaw, the only thing I've been doing since I found out about these things is running from them."

There was a faint pop as Gawain's Watcher disappeared. My friend jumped around and stared directly into his fireplace.

"Oh, GOD!" He shouted.

Coming through the chimney were a pair of scarlet, disembodied, lidless eyes.

I had no time to react. Gawain was faster than I by far. He ripped the door off of the case of swords, breaking it. Glass showered the floor, but he paid it no mind. Within seconds, his favorite sabre was in his hand.

I'm sure someone who knew anything about fencing or swordfighting would have a name for the move Gawain used. He leaped over the chair, knocking it over, and sprang at the Watcher from above. The sword whistled through the pair of eyes, directly in between them. A horrible screeching noise filled the air, and I was positive that the end was near.

Then the Watcher exploded in a burst of sticky green ooze.

Gawain stood there, his sword at ready, panting from the burst of adrenaline due to fear. He glanced at me, his brown eyes at once tired and sharp. "Shit, Sullivan. What have you gotten us into?"

Before I could answer, his TV turned on in a burst of static.

AN: PH34R TH3 CL1FFH4NG3RZ!!!!