Going through the back door, Attar chased after the dancer, completely ignoring the knife thrower, currently on the stage. Out in the back alley, there was not a soul to be seen. As he stood there, quietly, unmoving, listening to the sounds of the night, an all too familiar feeling of dread, befell him. From a nearby alley, the slimy voices of a couple of men, reached Attar's ears. In the thousands of years, he had roamed the Earth, in the many generations, and nations, a few things, have always remained the same. The sounds, would be rapists made, when they were about to take their next victim, was one of them.

He had to hurry. Judging by her small stature, she didn't stand a chance, of repelling their attackers. Just as she came into view, before he could call out to her, someone hit him, at the back of his head. He slumped to the ground, holding his head. But before he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw, was the dancer, being surrounded, by 5 burly men.

Thankfully, his nanites, had immediately began to repair the damage. Just a minute later, he was already awake. The sounds of fighting, reached his ears. The picture before him, wasn't just shocking, it was surprising, to say the least. Instead of the dancer being assaulted, she was the one, beating the living spirits, out of them. There was something very familiar, in her fighting style. He reached to the nearest attacker, who was now laying on the ground. He was dad. His throat, sliced. All of them were.

Dancer: “Speak! Where is your leader hiding!”

Attacker: “Mercy! Please!”

Dancer: “Where is he?”-at every question, she stabbed the attacker. So far, there were two wounds, on his legs. Even if, he was to recover, he would not be able, to walk again. Judging by the position of the wounds, and comparing them, to the body earlier, this was some form, of deliberate revenge, not just interrogation.

Dancer: “Don't make me repeat myself! Where is your leader hiding?”

Attacker: “I don't know! He ran off!”

Dancer: “He ran, huh? Where to? When?”

Attacker: “I don't know! After our comrades, started showing up dead, we erected those pillars, in order to appease the ghosts! Who would have taught, that it was actually the work, of living people!”

The Dancer flinched, at the word “living”. It didn't escape Attar's notice.

Dancer: “Let me correct you, on one thing. Your comrades, died by the hands of the walking dead!”

Although, he had already recognized her, Attar still watched in amazement, as the dancer's yellow hair, turned fiery red, and her metallic-silver eyes, changed into emerald-green, right before him. The attacker too, watched in shock, at her transformation, as his eyes widened, right before she slit his throat. Then she turned at Attar. Her warm gaze, checking him out, from top, to bottom, making sure he was all right. A slight nod, a faint smile. Then she turned away to run. Attar quickly grabbed her hand. Then hugged her strongly, from her back. This time, he wasn't going to let her go. Not anymore.

Attar: “Wait! Selene! Don't run!”

Selene: “Let go of me. I told you before. The one you knew, is gone. She died from an arrow through the chest. I am just a walking corpse.”

Attar chuckled. What was she talking about?

Attar: “If you are a walking corpse, than why are you breathing? Why can I feel your pulse?”

Selene: “That, I don't know. All I know is, I should be dead. Not walking around like this. And what's worse, is that I've somehow given Phil, this same curse!”

Attar only hugged her tighter, as she began crying in his arms. But as she was beginning to calm down, a sudden “THUD” sound, made her freeze in shock. She heard him say “AGH”, as his body, unable to stay on his feet, slumped on the ground. She quickly turned around, only to see, her brother's dagger, sticking out, from Attar's back.

Phil: “You, die you piece of Thug trash!”

Selene: “Brother, what have you done?”

Phil looked confused. His sister, was suddenly holding on, to a piece of trash, crying over.

Phil: “What, I'm just cleaning up the trash! What's the big deal?”

Selene: “HIC! This isn't a Thug. This is Attar! He's here! He wasn't attacking me! He was consoling me! He knows something of this curse! HIC! But, most importantly. I LOVE HIM! HIC! HIC! HIC!”

Attar: “Groan! Say that again!”

Surprised, Selene stopped crying, as the man in her arms, slowly turned his body around, while pulling the dagger out of his back. He looked at Selene, and placed his other hand on her cheek, brushing away her tears.

Attar: “Don't cry, little princess. It will be alright. We're together now!”

Selene: “Yes, we are! HIC! Please, please don't leave me, ever again!”

Attar: “I won't. I LOVE YOU! I don't want to ever be separated from you, ever again!”

Selene: “You won't! I promise! I'll stay by your side, even if you don't want me anymore!”

Attar: “That will never happen! You are mine, and I am yours!”

Selene: “HIC! Yes!”

Attar: “So sleepy! Let me rest in your lap for a while. It's so comfortable!”

Selene: “No, don't fall asleep! Stay awake! You promised you won't leave me! Ata-a-ar!”

Phil watched helplessly, as his sister cried, hunched over, the love of her life. Her tears falling down his cheek. Her sorrow, was his fault.