Darkness.

All there was to see in the chilled air of the Manhattan night was darkness. Harlem wasn’t a nice neighborhood these days, mostly thought of as “Brooklyn’s Little Sister”, the place had fallen prey to more drugs, violence, prostitution and crime than ever before. It was festering sore of depravity, gloom and pain and it wreaked of death.

The Revenant loved every minute of it.

These streets were his and the locals knew it. An old dilapidated church was his home, and it was now, atop the roof over looking his streets perched atop the once holy cross did he make his vigil. The homeless gathered around trashcan fires, the gangs made noise a few blocks over… it was just a typical night. The homeless pretended they didn’t see him; everyone did if they were wise. Night after night they just went on pretending they didn’t see The Revenant looming in the darkness with those pin points of yellow glaring at them from above watching their every move.

A pimp told one of his girls not to look up at him as her eyes continuously wandered over his shoulder during their conversation. He finally amended his final request with a fierce backhand.

Now that had to hurt… what do you say? A nine? Rose an arrogant voice from the back of Revenant’s gloomy mind as he watched the scene unfold.

“Seven,” he replied in a whisper. “She didn’t even fall.”

Okay, I’ll buy that. The Shadowed voice in the back of his mind seemed to almost nod by the tone it carried. It was an ever-present force that Revenant battled against. His bleak negative emotions given a separate living persona of their own. He walked a razors edge of morality every day and night and he knew it. Should he slip up and give in to the pain and suffering and hatred that churned within The Shadow would seize its opportunity to take control and the results were never pretty. Let say we go down there and show him how it’s done, eh?

“I’m not in the mood to hit a pimp tonight.” Revenant left his perch, dropping to the pitch of the roof below it. “It’s not my business.”

Who anything about hitting the pimp? I said we show him how it’s done. Ten to One we can kick her through that plate glass window then we kick his ass too… you know… so you can feel better about yourself. Cold mockery bled its way off the end of the statement.

He walked along the edge, his balance perfect as any could be before climbing over the rail of the bell tower to the ladder that led down into his lair. “Nah, thanks though. Appreciate you looking out for me like that, it’s times like this when I really feel you care.”

Buzz kill. I’m bored… what do you feel like doing!? The shadow of Revenant cast by moonlight upon the wall threw its hands in the air in a hopeless fit of irritation.

“I dunno. Maybe head to Walmart.” His feet crunched over the rubble and clutter of the abandoned church floor.

Gah! Not another Salamander poster! Could you please find some other incredibly attractive nova to masturbate to in the wee hours of the night?!

“I’m sure I could, but so far she’s the only decent one in Manhattan who merchandises.” A grin passed his dark shaded lips. His flesh was pale but he could still pass for human, the dark rings around his eyes and his dark lips made most mistake him for a member of the gothic subculture with a really good Tim Burton make-up job. He tossed his hood over his head as he walked towards the large double doors n the front of the church. “Besides, I’m out of allegro.”

With a mental command he dissolved his corpus and became a spirit. His vision wavered and suddenly there was no color, only shades of black and gray. Effortlessly he walked right through the solid doors where he stood in the cold night air.

Revenant, The voice was lovely and seductive. It entered his mind over a great distance. He squinted hard, trying to focus and block it our but still it rang through his skull. I have need of you my dear. Please… do not keep me waiting to long…

He raised his head as the voice faded, opening his eyes. The pinpoint of yellow was gone and all that remained was solid, inky blackness. “I’m coming, my mistress.” He spoke in a dulled almost zombie like tone.

As he walked his shadow grasped around light posts, clawed at the ground, gripped the bumpers of parked cars but nothing it tried could slow the languid pace of its owner.

The heavy bass of the sound system below could be heard, even through the ‘sound proof’ fixtures of the dark, yet incredibly lavish, office that over looked the dance floor and bar of ‘Obsessions’, a popular nightclub in downtown Manhattan. As the throngs of patrons below danced and slipped further and further into inebriation the clubs owner looked down from above with a wicked smile as she half listened to the conversation that was taking place behind her.

“… so I kicked him in the head until he was dead.” An attractive young woman took a drag from her cigarette. Her skin was mocha colored and the scent of fresh earth clung to the air around her. “Stupid red-neck country boy didn’t have no place being there anyway. Know what I’m saying?”

“Very classy Terris.” A young man draped in a leather duster that looked more like 1800s style cloak than a modern coat chimed up as he swallowed the last bit of wine from his glass. His eyes glowed green, brightly so, and he was groomed immaculately from his eight hundred dollar shoes to his perfectly trimmed blonde hair. “Leave a wake of bodies ere’ you go. How wise.”

“Screw you Sumnyr.” Terris gave him a very energetic middle finger. “You ain’t gotta deal with men grabbing your…” She stopped in mid sentence. Sumnyr was most likely the gayest man in New York and did in fact have to deal with men grabbing all sorts of places.

Sumnyr rose from his chair, grunting lazily as he did so, making his way to the bottle of chilled wine opposite of him. “You were about to say something?” He grinned sarcastically. He paused mid stride as a chill ran down his spine and his breath formed in front of him, a gray wisp of air heralding an arrival.

The wall behind the two chairs where the novas were talking stretched outwards in a vaguely humanoid pattern, like an adhesive refusing to let go of whatever it held. The Revenant slowly tore through the shroud that separated the living world from the dead realms. With a ripple in the fabric of reality the wall released it’s grip upon him, snapping back with a bit of a wobble.

He walked calmly forward, not looking at the rooms’ occupants. Terris and Sumnyr only stared at him. Revenant creeped them out something fierce and as he passed through Sumnyrs body like a spirit the pretty blonde nearly wet himself. Revenant approached the large desk positioned before the massive wall of tinted plate glass where the club’s owner stood looking down upon the packed house.

Her name was Edena Rime, New York’s ‘Frost Maiden’. She was about as cold as a person could be with nothing resembling a heart; just a void of pitch that pumped quantum charged ice water through her veins. Like fortunate novas she was perfect in ever way, shape and form. Every curve was desirable and every word that passed her lips was law as far as most simple baseline minds were concerned. She grinned as she felt him approach her desk. Right on time sweetie, that’s what I like about you. she cooed seductively in his mind, not bothering to speak.

The undead nova stood in the center of the room, in front of her desk and slowly dropped to one knee. “What is your desire?” He asked. His voice was low; barely a whisper and it send a chill through those in attendance. Terris and Sumnyr looked at each other, slightly in awe of what their employer had under her control.

Looking at her reflection in the glass she took a moment to scrape a stray mark of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. She walked around the desk, leaning against it just off to Revenant’s left side. She placed the tip of her boot just under his chin, raising his head so she could look at him.

He saw her platinum blonde hair, the dark leather pants and the open-back sequined top but none of it did anything for him despite her being a vision of pure lustful desire. She had total control of his mind and nothing anyone could say or do would distract him from hearing what his mistress had planned for him. She motioned for him to stand.

“Revenant, I have a task for you,” she pushed herself from the desk and started walking around him. “I need you to retrieve some logic software that they will be submitted for patents on Monday morning.” She grinned, tracing a finger along the back of his broad shoulders. “Microdyne has stolen them from me, and I do so need them back.” She lied with a near pouty tone. She slid a folded piece of paper in his breast pocket and gave it a sinister, yet loving, tap.

“It will be done.” Revenant said with a whisper. He faded from view and in a moment the temperature in the room returned to normal.

The room was silent for a moment, despite the quake of the music from below. Sumnyr finally worked up the nerve to pour another drink for himself, offering one to his hostess as well. “I don’t understand why you use him Ms. Rime. We could have done that job no problem.”

“I need you here, with me.” She to him, her voice always seemed touch with a hint sarcasm mixed with flirtation. “I’m not about to waste my senior and well trained staff on a simple burglary. He serves a purpose, and while he is doing that we can focus on other, more important matters.” She failed to mention that her ‘closest and well trained staff’ would have no doubt botched the job. They had no sense of subtlety.

“Well, he creeps me out.” Terris added. “Is he even a nova?”

“Yes, Terris, I assure you he is.” Edena answered, leaning against the desk again, bringing her glass to her lips. “And he’s mine.” Edena grinned rather joyfully in her own sinister way as she drank her wine, thinking about the puppet on the end of her strings.