Rae and Vaughn sat in the empty mess hall Vaughn's ship, talking idly to pass the time as they steadily moved towards the mainland. Vaughn calculated that they would reach the ports of Neverhood City by nightfall at the very least. While Rae was eager to finish his final task, he did not look forward to it. He felt the beginnings of a nervous fear form in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore it.

"How did you find me?" Rae asked. "How did you know I was leaving the city?"

"I didn't," Vaughn replied, sipping a mug of some foul-smelling liquid that the ship's cook had handed the men. Rae had left his mug full and the once-steaming drink quickly cooled. "I had some of my men waiting at the docks to escort you to my location."

"Were your men -- "

" -- the ones that chased you?" Vaughn finished. He shook his head. "No. Those guys were the reason I had to leave the docks. Those mercenaries have taken the entire city. They claim to work for General Cosmo. Isn't he the one that was hired by the Necromancer?"

Rae nodded. "Yeah. But I finished him off and I don't know where his second in command went. I have a feeling they'll leave pretty soon."

"I doubt it." Vaughn sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. "Once a merc army takes a city, they won't let go no matter what. They'll find a new leader. They always do."

Rae put his head in his hands, brooding over the situation. "Cosmo wouldn't have acted alone if he wanted the Necromancer to pay him. That's rule number one for being a mercenary. So the Necromancer must have ordered him to take the city. But why? What's there?"

Vaughn shrugged. "Some old ruins. I can't think of anything worthwhile. But now it's my turn to ask questions: What happened out there?" He made a vague gesture towards Eastshore Island, unseen through the walls of the cabin. "You've changed a lot in such a short time."

Before Rae could answer, a lookout called from the crow's nest. Another ship was approaching.

"Another ship?" Vaughn repeated. "Could it be those mercenaries?"

"One way to find out," Rae replied, standing and heading for the stairs that led to the deck. He was surprised to find that he felt absolutely no fear that he was about to look upon an endless ocean.

The ship in question followed from a safe distance, but did not look like an attack ship; for one thing, there were no visible weapons. Vaughn surmised that it was a civilian transport. Rae tapped his chin as he thought about that. Could Vincent be following them? And why? He knew Rae was heading off to destroy the Council of Elders, whom he represented. There were too many questions that needed answering and it began to grate on Rae's already taut nerves. He went down below decks once more.

He needed to rest before they reached Neverhood City: Birthplace of the Blood Guardian, home of the Council of Elders.

***

Rae checked his pistol, making sure it was fully loaded and the safety was off. He slipped it into his holster and checked his swords once again. He was ready.

Far above, clouds gathered like and army and in the distance thunder rumbled like battle drums. Rain would begin falling in a matter of minutes and Rae had no intention of driving through that on his motorcycle...not again, anyway. He led his bike down the gangplank of Vaughn's ship.

"We'll wait here," Vaughn said from the deck. "If you're not back in an hour or two though..." He shrugged. "News gets around fast in this town. If you're caught doing what you're about to do, someone might make the connection between us."

"I understand," Rae said, straddling the bike. He hitched his cloak about his shoulders and placed his glasses in a pocket in his cloak. He would need them soon. Without another word, he kick-started the bike and accelerated to the sound of tires squealing and the smell of burnt rubber.

At that moment, the ship that had been following Vaughn's docked and Vincent hopped off before the gangplank was even lowered. He rushed over to Vaughn, short of breath.

"Has he gone?" he asked.

"He just hopped on his bike," Vaughn replied. He laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Are you all right? You look terrible."

"Do you have a car?" Vincent asked, ignoring Vaughn's concern.

"No, but you can hire a taxi. Do you need the money?" He handed Vincent a wad of paper money. "That should get you to Rae with enough left over for the driver to carry you wherever you need to go." He smiled.

Vincent was stunned. "I...Uh, thank you," he stammered.

"Any friend of Rae's is a friend of mine."

But Vincent was already gone, running for the street to signal a taxi. A girl in a dirty, torn white dress followed after, calling for him to wait. Vaughn smiled, but the smile was short-lived. He had preparations to make.

***

Rae recklessly passed cars, ran stoplights, even drove on the sidewalk as if a hungry demon was on his heels. He didn't receive the attention of any police, however. They were all probably too busy trying to fend off mercenaries at the gates of the city, something all too common these days. Rae himself had attacked the gates of Neverhood City as a mercenary...before he became a Blood Guardian.

Before the betrayal, he though bitterly.

The first drops of rain began to fall, hitting Rae with a sting amplified by his excessive speed. He flinched with each droplet but did not slow down. All he did was pull up the hood of his cloak, covering his head. Nothing would slow him down, not even if Michael himself, backed with all of the Dark tried to stop him.

Before long, he was beside the headquarters of the Council of Elders. He slammed on the bike's brakes, squealing his tires, hurting his ears. The smell of burnt rubber was quickly subdued by the falling rain and the scent of ozone. Rae leaned his bike on its kickstand, leaving it in the rain, and pushed open the door to the lobby. He looked around, his eyes falling on the coat rack and he nearly laughed aloud when he saw his coat was still there, as if he had never left it. He walked to the waiting room.

The room was empty except for a guard by the door that led to the Elders. Rae walked past the guard, intent on confronting the Elders immediately. A hand with a tight grip on his slender shoulder stopped him short, however.

"Do you have an appointment?" the guard by the door asked. He looked over Rae carefully. "One does not go armed in the presence of the Elders."

"The Blood Guardian can," Rae replied, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. "Blood Guardian, Rae," he said, gesturing to himself.

The guard -- one of the Borderland's Finest, Rae noted -- looked skeptical. "Proof?" he asked.

Rae reached over his shoulder -- the guard tensed visibly as he did so, placing a hand on his sheath short sword -- and drew the sacred blade. The Finest nodded, his eyes as wide as they could go. "You may pass," he said softly, awed to be in the presence of the Borderland's only protection against the Necromancer. Rae ignored him and pushed through the door, his sword still in his hands.

The huge room was dimly lit, as only half the torches along the walls were lit, throwing the room in the deepest shadow. The Elders sat at their table, opposite the door, their ancient features masked in darkness. Rae wondered how he looked with his hood over his head; his face must have been unreadable. He stepped forward, noticing the guards -- two more of the Finest -- standing at either end of the table. Someone other than Rae was expecting trouble.

"Blood Guardian Rae," one of the Elders -- a withered husk of a man -- greeted him. "It is good to see you have made it back safely. We have not had reports of your progress lately. Has your mission been a success?"

"Indeed," Rae said, taking another step closer. He held his sword loosely in his left hand.

"And have you come to retire once more?" a withered old woman asked, gesturing to his drawn sword.

"Not yet." Rae took another step, past the area guests were to stand before the Elders. The guards placed their hands on their short swords, tensing, Rae noted with a cool calm. Another slow step forward.

"You will continued to protect the Borderlands from the Necromancer's evil?" another old man asked.

Another step. The guards looked at each other, then to Rae. They were trained to wait until the Elders gave their word to attack. Like puppets, Rae thought. Another step. He closed to within six feet of the table.

A few of the Elders looked nervously at each other, wondering what the Blood Guardian was doing, walking close to the table without permission. They could not see the anger etched on the man's face due to the shadows masking him.

Another step. His footsteps echoed against the walls and into the ceiling, lost in the shadows. Abruptly, he stopped, his right hand resting on his hip, his left hand holding the sword, the point touching the marble floor.

"I will protect the Borderlands from any evil the Necromancer -- or his master -- can conjure," he said softly. "And that includes you."

"What?" three or four of the Elders said simultaneously. But Rae was already in action.

He drew his pistol in a flash of movement and pulled the trigger once, twice, throwing back the two guards at either end of the table. Before echo of the blasts died, the guard from the waiting room ran in, his sword drawn. He ran towards the Blood Guardian, but his flight was suddenly shortened as Rae fired again, hitting the man in the shoulder and spinning him around. Another bullet found its mark in the guard's back, severing his spine. He fell in a crumpled heap, dead.

Rae holstered the pistol and slowly turned back to the Elders, who remained behind the table. They knew there was no escape. He could chase them down in a few steps, cutting them down with his swords or simply shoot them from where he stood. They glanced around nervously and a few tapped hidden buttons under the table, calling more guards. They would be a long time coming, however.

The Blood Guardian threw back his hood and glared at the Elders with undisguised hatred. He reached into his cloak and produced the pair of glasses the Elders had given him earlier. He put them on, adjusted them to make them more comfortable, and then looked up at the Elders. Only half displayed vital signs, which showed them to be very nervous. The others were as dead as the guards Rae had just shot.

He rushed forward, leapt onto the table and buried his sword to the hilt in the chest of an already dead man. The living Elders screamed, but the one with the sword in his chest only stared at Rae, as if in pity.

"You were to die," he said in his sandpaper voice. "My master was to finish you."

Rae took the sword hilt in both hands and yanked it upwards, cutting through skin and bone -- even the chair behind the Elder's back -- alike with ease. The blade exited the top of the Elder's head in a gory fountain.

He moved on, hopping behind the next corpse -- a decrepit woman -- and slipped his blade between her ribs. He spun around and yanked the blade out and when he finished, the top half of the woman's body fell away from the bottom half, emitting the rotting reek of death. He continued on.

The living Elders ran feebly, heading for the corner of the gigantic room. Rae ignored him as he stabbed another dead man in the shoulder, pinning him to his chair.

"Why me?" he demanded. "Why did you choose me as the Blood Guardian in the first place?"

"We needed a weakling," the corpse said calmly. "Someone that our master could defeat easily, yet still make it look like we cared for the Borderlands' well-being. You were the natural choice."

"We chose you again for our master's vengeance," another dead woman said. "He could not stand the fact that he lost to a man weaker than him. We suggested you again so that he could have his revenge."

Rae growled in anger and frustration and ripped his sword along the pinned Elder's shoulder, through his chest and out his other shoulder. He quickly turned and thrust his sword through the woman's eye and clean out the back of her head. She toppled from her seat as Rae turned on the last dead Elder.

"I am not a puppet," he growled. "I am the Blood Guardian. I am the Wingless!" he said with a shout. He raised the sacred black sword -- the sword wielded by countless Blood Guardians before him -- over his head. With a downward slash, he brought it down on the last Elder's skull. Reeking, black blood spilt onto his cloak and shirt and he gagged, but managed to keep from vomiting.

The door to the waiting room opened and he spun around, his pistol in his hand. His aim was trained on Vincent's forehead. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his friend.

"Rae," Vincent said, but was quickly silenced when he noticed the gore, the bodies and the remaining five Elders huddling fearfully in a corner. "You...actually did it," he said.

Rae nodded and walked around the table, holstering his pistol once more as he did so. He stepped over the body of one of the guards and walked up to Vincent. They were silent, staring at each other a moment.

"You can't walk away from this one," Vincent said, not meeting his friend's eyes. "You can't claim you're a Blood Guardian and make everything all right. Rae, no one's killed an Elder since before the second millenium and probably even before then." He hesitated. "You'll be put to death."

"If they catch me," Rae replied, sheathing his bloody sword. "I won't let them do that, though."

"Oh no!" The shrill voice came from the waiting room door, behind Vincent. Both men turned to see Emma, her face ravaged by anguish, pointing an accusing finger at Rae. "You killed them!" she yelled.

Vincent moved towards her, speaking softly, soothingly, but when he approached, she pushed him away.

"You're just as responsible as he is!" Emma gasped between sobs. "I'll see that you're both thrown in jail for the rest of your lives!"

"Enough of this," Rae muttered. "Guards are coming and I don't want to be around when they show up. I have a boat to catch. Let's go Vincent."

"I'll stay."

Rae stopped in mid-stride and turned to face his friend. "Stay?" he repeated incredulously. "Do you know what they'll do if they catch you? The girl said it herself." He gestured to Emma, who had collapsed, leaning on the doorway, sobbing loudly. "No one in their right mind would let us walk free after this. And I doubt Emma's going to let you speak in your own defense. No matter how good of a lawyer you might be."

"I'm not a lawyer," Vincent said softly, staring at the bodies around the table. "I was once a representative for the Council of Elders." He straightened, threw back his shoulders and said in a loud voice that echoed throughout the large room, "I am a representative for the Blood Guardian now. And what good is a representative who is not there to speak on the Blood Guardian's behalf?" He faced Rae, a large grin on his lips. His eyes had an almost wild look to them. "I'll hold back the soldiers. Give them false directions or something. You have to leave. I have a feeling the Borderlands still need you."

Rae stormed forward and embraced his friend tightly. "I'll come back to free you," he said, patting the younger man on the back. "Don't worry." He released Vincent and held him out at arm's length. "I'll be back. I promise." Without another word, he turned and fled from the room, rushing past the sobbing girl at the door. She didn't even seem aware of his presence.

"Goodbye," Vincent said softly. He knew Rae could not keep his promise. There was no way that a single man could break into the dungeons underneath the Council headquarters. There was no record of it in any of the archives.

The sound of booted feet advancing towards him erased any further thought.

Owyn drove past the east gates of Neverhood City, waving to the guards on duty as he did so. They didn't even give him so much as a second look, let alone wave. He didn't mind however. He was finally free of the hustle and bustle of the crowded city, free of the pushy mercenaries, the beggars, the bums and the whores. He could finally get a job, save up enough money and propose to his girlfriend! They could get a house in the country, have lots of kids and the perfect life he always dreamed about could never have in the cramped quarters of the city.

He felt so free! He almost felt like his spirit was flying in the storm clouds high above him. Even the rain did little to dampen his spirits.

He looked himself over in the rearview mirror, making sure his long dark hair was straight and that there were no smudges on his pale face. His blue eyes sparkled back at him and he smiled again. He had a job interview that very afternoon and he wanted to look his best.

Nothing could go wrong for him.

Or so he thought.

He felt a sudden pain in his chest and wondered if he was having a heart attack. No, he thought, I'm too young for that. Besides, I'm the very picture of health. What the hell is wrong with me?

He quickly pulled over to the shoulder of the road and switched off his car's engine. He sat for a few minutes in silence, clutching his chest and listening to the hard and quick thump-thump-thump of his heart beat in his ears. His breath came in short gasps, whistling through his parched throat.

And then, just as quickly as the pain began, it ceased. Owyn sat in confusion for a few moments, waiting, expecting the pain to begin again.

And, as predicted, the pain resurfaced. But it was a new type of pain. Not in his chest or in his heart, but deeper, into his very soul. He screamed, but his screams were unheard on the empty road before and behind him. His scream became high enough to annoy dogs when it suddenly stopped and he slumped dead over the wheel.

Silence reigned in the car for long moments. The only sounds were the far-off thrumming of thunder and the beating rain on the car's hood and roof.

After a few minutes, the dead man inhaled a shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. In but a few moments a regular breathing pattern returned, as did the beating of his heart. He pushed himself off the steering wheel and touched his temple. He had a killer headache.

He looked at himself in the mirror again, only his features seemed to have changed. His hair and facial features remained the same, yet somehow...different. It was unexplainable, even to him. The only real difference was his eyes.

They were intense, glowing green orbs.

He smiled and started up the car again.

"Now to my new city," he muttered to himself. "And you better watch out, Wingless. I have a few more surprises up my sleeve."

He put the car into gear and slammed down on the accelerator, spinning his tires in the soaked gravel. When they caught, he flew onto and down the road, heading for the port that would take him to Eastshore Island.

~DSL~

I thought I’d leave the end open for the intended sequel, if I ever get around to it (*thinks about Evolution for a moment*). I do have a plot in mind, but a few kinks need to be worked out.

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As of now, my next project will be a horror/sci-fi story, entitled Cold Blooded Mercy. Watch out for that, if you care. LOL.

Anyway, I just want to say that I couldn’t have finished this without my readers. If you’re reading this, you know who you are and you have my sincerest thanks.

Thank you for reading. Please review…for the last time. *sobs*