The Shadow And The Flame

Chapter 1: Hero of the Day

A wise man once said, "Heroing is one of the shortest lived professions there is."

Too bad for you, child.

What was your name again?

Ah yes.

Benjamin Tennyson...

Somewhere on Earth.

A normal forest, on a normal night.

And then, with a baleful shrieking noise, like the screams of the damned escaping from some infernal punishment, things were not so normal any longer.

Somewhere else on Earth...

Ben Tennyson was in one of his usual states, that is, he was deathly bored.

And lacking any other means to rectify it, Ben was settling for kicking a rock ahead of him down the street.

Why was Ben doing this? Simply put, he had missed the bus to school, and his dad had already gone to work, and his mom had told him to walk.

It wasn't that far, but Ben hated it anyway. Well, in a sense. In reality he was displacing his anger at himself for missing the bus to begin with. Lacking any target, he settled on the rock. It also helped with his boredom.

Why, might you ask, did Ben not turn to far more OBVIOUS solutions to his boredom? Ah, read on, gentle readers...

All will soon become clear.

Though clarity was the LAST thing that came to Ben when he finally arrived at Madison Elementary...and found chaos.

Perhaps not the kind of expected chaos though. There was no property damage. There were no strange, mysterious black vehicles, or even any sign of the authorities. There weren't even any teachers, which made the scene all the stranger.

For before Ben, in the recess grounds, was strewn the bodies of the boys of Madison. They were not dead, but that was little comfort, this strange sight of their fallen forms. Some lay still, others moved with groaning noises of pain, and others sat partially up, clutching their injuries. Bruises and bumps covered everyone, occasionally marred with a streak of blood.

"Wha...!?" Ben exclaimed, looking at the sight before him. "What in the world...?"

"Ben!" Came a familiar voice, one that would sometimes put his nerves on end, but in this case, the job had already been done, as Gwen appeared from Ben's side, having been tending to the wounded, perhaps.

"Gwen? What happened here?" Ben said, as he slung his backpack off.

"It was the Macguffin Tech boys! They came here and beat everyone up!"

"They did...wow, good day to miss the bus." Ben commented. Gwen looked annoyed.

"Don't joke! They're led by Simon Nero...he's nuts! He says he's going to take over Bellwood with his gangs of students and ferocious bosses!"

"And he's gonna." Said the voice behind Ben, the words underscored by nasty chuckles. Ben slowly turned around.

The boys were maybe a little older than Ben, but puberty had apparently kicked in for them long ago. Dressed in menacing dark jeans and red and black T and sweatshirts, the three boys advanced on Ben, somehow coming off as more threatening than mere bullies. Maybe it was their walk.

"Good thing we stuck around, Moose." The one on the right said.

"Knew we'd missed a scrap or two." Moose replied.

"Less problems for Simon." The last one said, as the three closed the gap. Ben seemed oddly unconcerned.

"Get ready to bleed shorty!" Moose's left goon yelled as he broke from the pack and charged at Ben.

As Ben casually lifted his left arm.

And curled his fingers into a fist, the tension shooting through the muscles down his hand and past his wrist...

His bare, empty wrist, unadorned by anything, much less an amazing device of DNA recombination.

And strangely, Ben didn't seem much bothered by that at all.

As Left Goon swung a fist at Ben, and Ben ducked underneath it, sliding beneath the over-enthused thug in training and slamming his own fist into the stomach of Left Goon. His air left him in an explosive gasp, and he tumbled to the ground

"Next." Ben said dismissively, as Moose and Right Goon stared in shock. It didn't last long.

"YOU ARE DEAD YOU...!" Moose snarled as he himself charged. Instead of a looping hook, he threw a jab.

Ben kicked him in the chest, estimating his legs were longer than the thug's arms. He was right, and Moose went stumbling back as Right Goon came on the attack...

And ran right into a twisting elbow jab, as Ben used the absorbed momentum of Moose's impact to pivot and spin, twisting to the side ever so slightly so that Right Goon's attack missed him and Right Goon ran right into Ben's elbow, knocking himself out.

"Owtch!" Ben yelped, grabbing his arm and rubbing it. "I'd expected an empty head, not a bonehead."

"...that's TERRIBLE." Gwen said. Ben gave her a brief raspberry.

"AUGHHHHHHH!" Moose screamed, running in for the attack again.

Ben turned and dodged into the blow again, spinning around and planting his hand into Moose's back, pushing him hard. Moose crashed into his left hand goon, both of them going down in a tangle of limbs, their heads slamming together in the process. They did not get back up.

"You try it sometime Gwen." Ben said. "These guys beat up everyone?"

"Yeah, but not just that Ben! They kidnapped Tara!"

And for the first time, Ben looked worried.

"Tara? You mean prettiest girl in the class and you won't stop bugging me about it Tara?"

"Yeah!"

"...aw man! She has my geography notebook! I'm not gonna start all over with a new one! I worked HARD on those doodles!" Ben cursed, and with that he turned and ran off, leaving his backpack behind.

He didn't need it. All he needed was what lay within him, and a cause, and a general direction.

And Ben had all three.

Until he stopped.

"...ferocious bosses?"

Ben pondered the strange choice of words for another moment, and then continue his run.

A few hours later...

The students had definitely come in gangs, and the 'ferocious bosses', as silly as that had sounded, had been suitably ferocious to have SOME merit in their choice of adjective. It had slowed Ben down, but it hadn't stopped him, and now, his clothes dirty and torn, and his face and fists scuffed and bruised, Ben found himself staring at the front doors of Macguffin Tech Jr High.

THE HELLION'S TURF!

Well that was what Simon supposedly called his personal group of student slash thugs that had been trying to take over Bellwood before Ben had personally beaten them all up. A tiring, painful task.

But none of the so-called Hellions were evident at the moment. Ben took the time to throw back a Karma Jolt energy drink for one last surge. According to intel he'd collected, Tara was being held on the roof of the school.

And since Ben couldn't fly (yes he could? But why?), he'd have to take the stairs. And the front door.

He was three steps past said front door when the reason for the lack of Hellions outside the school became clear.

They were all INSIDE the school, as they began popping out of classroom doors, their faces alternately cross and cocky as they massed in the hallway. Ben stared them down.

The intercom sounded above him.

"So...you made it this far, Ben Ten. But I'm afraid that this IS as far as you come. Crush him into paste!"

And the crackly voice cut off, assumingly of gang leader Simon Nero. Ben stared at his opponents: he was outnumbered at least 12 to 1. In an enclosed space, at that.

"This isn't exactly fair." Ben commented, before grinning wickedly. "Would it help if I closed my eyes?"

The students swarmed over Ben...as he promptly dispatched them with a storm of kicks, punches, and throws, expertly using the crowd's numbers against them to whittle them down until they, like his schoolmates, lay in groaning heaps on the ground.

"Where's Simon?" Ben asked one of the Hellions, holding his shirt twisted in one hand while threatening to strike the Hellion some more with the other.

"Rooftop...with..."

"Thanks." Ben said, as he tossed the Hellion down and footed it down the hallway over their bodies, accidentally stepping on a few of them. A bit of weirdness happened as he could have sworn one of them, upon being stepped on, said "BARF!". They didn't actually 'barf', they just said the word. Weird.

Not so weird was the muscles on muscles teenager who had come down from the stairway while Ben was running towards it.

"You aren't getting' NOWHERE you little...!" The teenager yelled as he swung at Ben with brass knuckles.

As Ben ran to the side and up the wall, leaping off and right over the blow as he smashed his foot across the back of the teenager's head, sending his face smashing into the wall to his right and sending him groaning to the floor with his fellows as Ben landed.

"Whatever." Ben commented as he headed up the stairs.

Ben hadn't noticed it threatening to rain, but in the few minutes since he'd entered the school the clouds overhead had turned bleak and ugly, as Ben slammed the door open.

He saw Tara first, splendid in a pretty shirt and "skorts" (skirt-shorts) combination, her long red hair tied behind her...and her hands tied above her, chained to a ring embedded in the wall.

And before him stood the tall form of Simon Nero, clad in dockers and a black hooded sweatshirt, the hood drawn up and partly hiding his Asian features, his hands in his pockets.

A flash of lightning split the sky, followed by a booming crack of thunder.

"Ben!" Tara cried. "Help!"

"On it Tara. Give it up Simon!" Ben declared, pointing. "I've beaten all your ferocious bosses! You're finished!"

"Not quite..." Simon replied, as he withdrew one hand from his pocket, tossing away the radio he'd had in it before he drew back his hood, revealing shoulder length black hair and eyes covered by dark shades.

"Ben!" Tara cried again

"So, this is the best Madison could muster." Simon said dismissively, as he withdrew his other hand from his pocket, rolling his slender, strong fingers.

"Funny, that's what your girlfriend said to me last night!"

"...what?"

"I mean...uh...YOUR MOM!"

"You'll be crying for yours." Simon said.

And the skies opened up and rain poured down as Simon Nero charged across the roof and leapt at Ben, striking out with his foot.

Ben caught the blow on his forearm and went with it, rapidly taking several steps back to force Simon to land awkwardly, and then blitzing forward and slamming his forearm into Simon's chest, driving him back. Simon clutched at the injured area, growled, and then spun, slashing a roundhouse at Ben. Ben went into a full split on the ground, Simon's foot whistling over his head as Ben torqued his own leg around and slashed it at Simon's ankle...as he jumped, swinging his leg out and up to the side pull his upper body downward, landing on his right hand and lashing out with his right leg in a super-quick twist that slammed his foot across Ben's face and send him sprawling to the ground as Simon in turn hit the roof, spinning back up to his feet as Ben tried to regain his.

Ben stood into a pistoning jab, his shoulder catching another as he retreated, as Simon followed that up with a slashing kick to Ben's hip. Ben caught the leg in mid blow and tried to shove Simon backwards, but Simon leapt with the movement and backflipped in the air, water spraying from his hair as he completed a 360 rotation and slammed both his feet into Ben's chest. Simon hit the ground again and kipped up...

As Ben charged in, leaping up onto Simon's upper body, grabbing his shoulder with one hand as he pistoned his elbow down on Simon's face with the other arm.

Simon's sunglasses shattered, and he yelled and pushed Ben off, staggering back and holding his head. Ben grinned.

"Yeah, your girlfriend sounded like that too!"

"RAGHHHHHHH!" Simon bellowed, charging in again.

As lightning and thunder tore through the sky, and rain poured down on the roof, forming giant puddles, Ben and Simon traded repeated punches and kicks, neither able to gain the upper hand...before Simon went for a leaping roundhouse and missed, and Ben leapt in turn and drove his foot into Simon's spine, sending him collapsing to the ground on his hands and knees.

"Ready to give up?" Ben asked.

"BEN LOOK OUT!"

Ben hear Tara's scream too late, nor had he noticed Simon reaching into one of his pockets, as Simon whirled and threw the powder into Ben's face, the rain not absorbing enough of the cloud to save him.

"GAHHHHHHHHHH!" Ben screamed, staggering back and clutching his eyes as they burned, tears running down his cheeks.

"BEN!"

Tara spoke too late again, as Simon cracked Ben across the jaw with a right hook and then slammed a foot right between his ribs. Ben staggered, his sense of balance and positioning gone, blind, as he swung wildly, trying to defend himself...

Simon's boot toe buried itself into the side of Ben's head, and Ben whirled from the blow and collapsed, face down in a puddle of gathering rainwater.

"BEN! BEN! NO!" Tara screamed, as Simon looked down at his work.

"Not enough, Tennyson." Simon said, as he began backing up, as Ben struggled to get up, drunkenly pulling himself up to his hands and knees. Grounded or standing, Simon was going to kick his head clean off.

He set his foot on the ground and then pushed off...

As Ben blinked open his eyes, water running from them as they cleared. The stinging powder washed away.

As Simon lunged at him, his foot snapping up...

And Ben turned and charged, lunging in turn under Simon's upraised leg, and as Simon's face froze in surprise Ben twisted and yanked down, using Simon's leg as a lever to hurl him over Ben and through the air.

He crashed against the high fence guarding the edge of the roof with a strangled cry, collapsing to the upraised part and nearly falling off that in turn, as Ben stood up, water running down his face and body, as he clenched his fists...

"NO!" Simon bellowed, as he pushed off the fence and leapt at Ben...

And Ben leapt in turn, scything his right foot and catching the bottom of it right in Simon's chest, sending Ben crashing back down to the ground in a bone-jarring thud, as Simon screamed and flew back the way he came...

And crashed through the fence, the barricade breaking after the second impact and sending Simon tumbling down through empty air.

He screamed all the way down.

Before he crashed into the open dumpster, the impact knocking him senseless.

Ben pushed himself up and staggered over to the edge, looking down at Simon's twitching form lying amongst the garbage.

"...wow...that was metaphorical. And strangely convenient." Ben commented.

"Ben!" Tara called."The key! Simon dropped it! Get me out of here!"

"Coming, coming..." Ben groaned. "Not like I just spent a few hours kicking butt here, oh no..." Ben groaned to himself as he picked up the key and headed over to Tara. At least her handcuffs were easy to unlock.

And as she threw her arms around him, all the pain and trouble was made worth it, as the rain tapered off.

"YAY BEN!"

They were all there for him now, down in the courtyard, all his friends and contemporaries, all cheering him as he went and stood on the edge of the roof, as the sun came up and he waved his arms triumphantly and the crowd lauded him and Tara gave him a peck on the cheek and it almost seemed like a full brass band was playing in the background...

"Henh. And I thought the average hero ran their life on delusion."

And then, for Ben, everything went black.

Ben gasped as he regained a sense of self, his cheering crowd and adoring female friend Tara gone, even the Hellions and Simon gone. Though he still seemed to be in Macguffin Tech Jr High...except someone had turned out all the lights, leaving Ben in the dark hallways with only the faint light from doors and fire alarms to provide any illumination.

"What the...wha...?" Ben said, as he whirled around, trying to figure out where he was.

As he heard the faint voice softly begin to sing.

"99 luftballons..."

"What? Huh?" Ben said, whirling around some more.

"Auf ihrem weg zum horizont..."

Ben could hear a slight tapping noise along with the song, like someone was sounding out the tune along the lockers with a finger as they walked...

"Hielt man fuer UFOs aus dem all..."

Now the singing was coming from behind him, as Ben whirled around again.

"Darum schickte ein General..."

Ben thought he saw a figure in the corner of his eye, but when he turned again it was gone.

"'Ne Fliegerstaffel hinterher..."

"Hey!" Ben yelled.

"Alarm zu geben, wenn's so waer..."

The voice was to his side again, and as Ben whirled he saw a dark form.

Then he blinked and it was gone.

"Dabeit war'n da am Horizont...Nur 99 Luftballons..."

"SPEAK ENGLISH!" Ben yelled.

"As you wish."

It was hard to describe what happened then. It was if the whole SCHOOL spun around Ben, like he was the only fixed point. It was brief and jarring, and he staggered back from the effect.

"...what is this? Is that you again Enoch?" Ben called into the darkness. "Or is that you Hex? Heck, uh...is that you Zombozo?"

"Um...no...I'm afraid you're in considerably more trouble then that, my young Tennyson..."

The light seemed to brighten a bit...as dark curved shadows fell on the lockers before Ben. He whirled around...and again found nothing.

"A strange dream...most dream of being heroic in their moments of weakness and envy...and yet you do...but as you are. Without the miracleworker on your wrist. Without the bright flame you have wielded so passionately."

And then it was back, as Ben looked at it, the Omnitrix, the alien device that granted him power, the power he had used to become a hero...not with martial arts and strange Battle Royale school battles, but with alien DNA summoned by the spin of the wheel.

"Do you grow to resent it already? See it for what it is, the anchor that drags you not down but up, to heights you could never reach otherwise? A whetstone on your potential, drowning it beneath far greater things? Killing your sense of accomplishment?"

"...what are you TALKING ABOUT?" Ben angrily asked the darkness.

"How did you put it? If you're not a hero, you're a zero? The only thing that renders you a hero with the power to invoke any change is that device, Benjamin Tennyson. Without it, there is no hero. And what does that leave you?"

"Screw you! You're lying!"

"Am I? Am...I?"

And Ben felt something he felt very rarely, the dryness in the back of his throat, felt only the few times when he'd sensed his grandfather or cousin was in truly deadly danger, and he had only so much time to save them. But it had always been an outward directed terror, a fear for others. Never himself.

Until now.

"...who are you?" Ben asked.

"Don't you know?"

A form blurred by behind Ben, down at the end of the strange school hallway, as Ben whirled around, barely catching the form as it disappeared from view.

"I am the echo in the steps of the path you chose."

Something flashed over Ben, across the ceiling, too quick to follow, as Ben whirled around again. Normally he'd have long reached for the Omnitrix, selected Fourarms, and proceeded with the smashing, but yet he did not...

"I am the crack in the back of your mind that speaks the first thing when you wake and the last thing when you sleep."

This time, the form ran across the hallway in front of Ben, but he could make out no detail as it slashed across his vision. All he knew was that it scared him.

"I am the snap in the inevitability that lay within the sealing of that device you proudly wear."

A whispering wind crawled across the stood-up hairs on the back of Ben's neck.

"I am the shadow to your flame. And I am afraid it has burned too brightly for too long."

Footsteps behind Ben. And yet he did not turn.

"Who am I?"

And they stopped.

Ben slowly turned around.

Nothing.

That became something, a face, thrusting out of the shadows, with whispy black hair and an expression that spoke of a thousand venoms.

Ben found himself transfixed.

"You know my name." The face said.

Eyes like the abyss.

Smile like the gates of hell.

"Hero."

And Ben awoke, his eyes snapping open.

He sat up, blinking, as the sensation of his body and the tangled bedsheets it lay in washed over him, and he realized it had been a dream. The whole thing.

A nightmare.

Ben slowly let out a long breath of air as his sense of reality fully returned to him, no longer seized in the mists of sleep and vision. All just a dream. And it had been a good dream too, before it had gone all weird and Hellraiser on him.

Maybe he should stop sneaking down to the den and watching late night horror films on the Sci-Fi channel.

...nah.

Ben briefly felt the Omnitrix on his left wrist as he lay back down, comforting himself with its presence and weight. Maybe without it he wasn't much, but he did have it, and all that came with it.

Even if he hadn't had a chance to use it much. After that amazing, terrifying summer vacation, every day a new adventure, every night a new experience, Ben's 5th grade year in school had been...dull. Well, there had been Eon. And some other troubles sprinkled throughout the year. But the idea that his life would forever be like that summer had eventually faded from Ben's expectations.

Some would have liked the quiet, but Ben just found it boring.

But soon, it'd be over. It was Tuesday, and this Friday was the last day of school. The next day, Grandpa Max showed up in the Rustbucket. And on that day, Ben was certain, it would be Omnitrix Hero Tour 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Whatever the heck an electric boogaloo was.

Oh yeah, and he'd be stuck with Gwen again. But after a whole school year of her, he was sure he could handle her.

Probably.

He needed more sleep. He was tired.

And thus Ben Tennyson dozed back off.

If he had any more dreams, he did not remember them.

Somewhere else, a female didn't think she'd be getting any more sleep that night.

"What in the name of Merlin's codpiece WAS that?" Charmcaster cursed, as she dragged the blanket off the bed she was sleeping in to use it as a makeshift robe, as she stalked over to the table in the hotel room she had "fairly acquired" and began pawing through her magical bag.

"Huh...ugh..." Her male companion groaned. Charmcaster ignored him. Ice was good for some fun, but he didn't have much imagination. And if what had sent her screaming out of her restful sleep was any indication, imagination was going to be the LEAST of the requirements for what lay ahead.

"...Cynthia...what the..." Ice said as he rubbed his eyes...and yelped as Charmchaster turned and blasted a purple arc of magical energy at him, sending painful shockwaves through his body. "OW! WHAT THE HELL!"

"DON'T call me by that name." Charmcaster growled. "Call me by my specialty, or by what I like. Or regret it."

"Ugh...fine...Cyn..."

"That's better." Charmcaster said, and resumed looking through her magic bag. Ice rubbed his eyes again and went to smooth down his hair...and then remembered he'd recently shaved his head.

"Did you have to drag the blanket off?"

"Be quiet Ice."

"What's so important?"

"Did you feel it? I thought you were "THE MAN" in magical matters." Charmcaster said with heavy sarcasm.

"You weren't complaining earlier."

"Oh shut up. I don't believe that tantric nonsense and neither do you. If you had any REAL magical talent, you'd have felt it..." Charmcaster said, as she finally pulled the needed charm out of her bag. "Illuminus extant...show me what has..."

The charm exploded in Charmcaster's hand, sending her flopping to the ground with a squawk. Ice hoped his amusement didn't show.

"It's worse then I thought." Charmcaster whispered.

"What is?"

"...why did I..." Charmcaster muttered to herself, as she stood up. A gesture brought purplish-energy around her, and moments later she was clad in her purple pants and jacket, her white hair tied behind her. "Do you remember the basic lessons you learned, Ice? About the auras of magic, and so on?"

"Yeah? So?"

"Worlds have auras too."

"I know that."

"And their nature is solitary."

"...huh?"

"You can't cross between worlds like you would between streets!" Charmcaster snapped. "Sure, there's ways to do it with SCIENCE..." Charmcaster mocked, saying science like it was the most inane of possibilities. "But if you want to do it with magic, you better damn well know what you're doing. You try and bludgeon your way through, chances are you'll end up vaporized, dead, insane, disembodied, in a hell dimension, or worse. And even if you make it, you'll be majorly wiped. You'll hardly show up on a blip in the new world, if that."

"So?"

"So something just broke through...and hit with enough impact to shake the whole world's aura."

Ice stared blankly.

"SOMETHING CROSSED OVER, ICE. Something that landed in our backyard, so to speak, with enough power that sorcerers in CHINA probably felt it. I feel like someone took a jackhammer to my back teeth, it was so potent! We're talking Elder Gods of myth here. Except it's not, or we'd all be annihilated already. Lovecraft got some things right." Charmcaster said. "But there's something out there Ice. Something new. And nothing that arrives like that is EVER benevolent. Something's out there. It's powerful. And it's unfathomably MEAN."

A wicked grin crossed Charmcaster's face.

"And I want in on the ground floor."

Somewhere on Earth.

Someplace we've seen before.

"What do you reckon it is?" The older man said, as he and his adult son peered down into the smoking crater, 10 feet across. The shotgun he and his son both clutched didn't make him feel much better...especially considering he thought he saw twisting movement down in the bottom of the crater.

"I think it's something we should stay well enough way from, Papa." The son said, as he stepped away from the pit, their camping and hunting trip interrupted by the most horrendous of noises that had scared them from sleep. They'd dressed, loaded up their Remington's, and gone to investigate. And found this, in the middle of the forest, a smoking mass of what had once been trees and earth, and was now scoured black rock.

"If I could just get a signal, damn it..." The son said, turning away from the crater as he pulled out his cell phone. "This was working decently too this evening! What...dad!" The son said, seeing his father having retrieved a long piece of wood from the nearby ground. "What the devil are you thinking?"

"There's something moving down there!"

"DO YOU NOT WATCH HORROR MOVIES? DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT IF SOMETHING IS DOWN THERE, YOU SHOULD POKE IT?" The son snapped, walking over and grabbing the stick, tossing it away. "Let's get out of here. Call the police, the government, whatever. THEY can decide what it is." The son said, walking away while holding his father's arm.

"Now stop that! I might be getting old but I'm not an infant!" The father snapped, pulling his arm free.

"We still need to get out of here Papa!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming, just let...me..." The father said, trailing off as he saw the color drain from his son's face. "What?"

And the father turned.

As it emerged from the crater, a slithering mass of tar-like morass, yet impossibly fluid, unnaturally fluid, like someone has distilled the very essence of the night and poured it down before him.

And that, in the end, was precisely what had slithered up before him.

And into him, shooting forward and through his chest.

"DAD!"

There was no blood. No injury.

And yet the father screamed, screamed and clawed at the air, as his son stepped back in horror, as the father thrashed, as darkness spilled forth from within him, mists of shadow that oozed forth from his eyes, mouth, ears, his hands and body, shadows that coursed around him...and above him, as his eyes rolled up and the father fell, collapsing on the ground.

The son was too transfixed at the shifting darkness to see his father was still breathing.

As it flowed back down slightly, shifting and twisting, its mass stretching out...and taking form.

Arms.

Legs.

And a face.

No tentacles. No mouths in chests or hands. No twisted bone structures, impossible muscles, slimy skin, or myriad eyes over slavering fangs.

What formed before the son, as the darkness solidified and settled over the form as several cloaks, as the head's skin faded and tinted to an almost natural paleness as the features fully formed, was simply, terrifyingly...human.

And then it...he was still.

"...ahhhhhhhhhh. Better." The dark man said, and opened his eyes.

In them lay the void. The son was dimly aware of him losing control of his bladder.

"These trips...never pleasant. Needed a recharge. Your arrival...fortunate." The dark man said, looking at the son. "You think otherwise though. Unsurprising."

And as the calm tone smashed over the son's ears, the sound of English...coming out of this THING...

With a terrified scream, the sun hefted his shotgun and fired. The blast rang through the quiet forest.

It punched a hole in the dark man.

Who's expression did not change.

And as the son watched, the hole closed back up, gone within a second.

"...Actus no facit, reum nisi mens sit rea." The dark man said. "In other words, in my opinion, I don't believe that was merited."

It was amazing the son had the presence to cock the shotgun again before he fired. Another hole was blown through the dark man's form.

It fixed itself even swifter.

"Stop that."

BLAM!

"Really, stop."

BLAM!

"I know you're not deaf. I can see every facet of you." The dark man said, as the son cocked the shotgun and pulled the trigger anew.

CLICK.

The dark man cocked his head at the son, as the son realized he was out of ammo...and began stumbling back, fumbling in his pockets for more. The dark man sighed, almost sounding exasperated.

"Really child, if the first four shots didn't do anything, I don't think the next four shots are going to do much better." The dark man said, as the son fumbled his ammunition in his panic, the shells scattering around his feet...

As one went in. The dark man's eyes narrowed.

"Enough of this."

The son never saw the dark man move. One moment he was several feet from him and the next he was seizing the shotgun's end with a dusky hand.

"ROT."

And the darkness flowed off his arm and into the weapon, shifting through it as hundreds of years of rust and decay began happening in seconds, as the metal and wood of the weapon began to crumble away into dead dust, scattering on the ground around the dark man's feet.

Had the son held onto the weapon, who knows what would have happened to him.

But he didn't, as his last frayed nerve finally broke and he turned and fled, screaming for his mother, screaming for god, just screaming in sheer wordless terror. The devil himself could have little provoked such a reaction.

"Hmmmm." The dark man said, as what remained of the shotgun fell to the ground, continuing to waste away.

It sank into the ground.

And the corruption began to spread. The dark man glanced down.

"Hmmmm?"

As the grass beneath his feet withered and died, a circle of death spreading out from around him, as the trees turned ashen gray and their leaves fell in masses, disintegrating on touch with the ground, as the forest around the dark man, in turn, withered and died.

"Hmmmm." The dark man said once more, as he floated over to the fallen body of the father, the darkness beginning to take root in him too. With a gesture, he dispelled it. He felt it unnecessary. It was not why he was here, after all.

Once, he'd have butchered both father and son, and gloried in their deaths. But that had been a lifetime ago.

He liked to think he was more...refined now.

But for his target, that would prove little comfort.

"...how fragile." The dark man said, as he watched his wasting touch continue to spread. That really shouldn't have happened: his powers were still scrambled from the breaking. But even with that factor, the fact that his destroying touch was able to spread so far from its simple target...

"I wonder if all this world will prove as delicate." The dark man said, as he raised his arm and finally willed the spreading ruin to stop. "I wonder if it's hero will be."

The dark man held out his arms, rolling his fingers as he gathered his power, feeding on the residuals he could gather from the death around him, from the sky above him, from the earth beneath him.

The darkness...

As waves of force exploded from him, and the forest around him disintegrating in a maelstrom of dead wood and ash, as the dark man floated up, his cloaks swaying in the pandemonium he'd unleashed.

The son had barely made it out of range when the chaos erupted, and as he stumbled and turned, staring at the carnage with terrified eyes, he barely noticed the black figure rising up from the turmoil and flying off into the sky.

And with that, the winds and force died, and the dead forest collapsed to the ground, leaving a wasteland over four miles in radius.

Later, police would find the father amongst the ruins...unharmed. And despite many men examining him over the following months, they would find nothing. When the man woke up, he in turn remembered nothing.

Yet for the rest of his life...he never once again grew angry with something, or hated anything. He seemed strangely calm in the face of everything, including the death of his wife. Some thought him cold. The father had no explanation.

He did not understand what had been taken from him. Never understood that from that day, he was no longer whole.

But in terms of obvious injury, the men could find no sign. And with the story of the son, not to mention the forest, the men were at a loss.

But their losses were nothing compared to the ones that would be inflicted in the coming days.

As the dark man flew away through his handiwork...a slight test of his power. Now for the target.

"...Benjamin Tennyson?" The dark man said to himself. "Henh."

Dark days were coming.