He stops at the mouth of the alley, standing tall, as if to attract the eye of every man-eater in the vicinity. The sides of his head are shaved, and his red dyed hair is draped like a mop over his head. His presence is imposing; he seems to stand at almost two meters tall, though his shadow stretches even longer across the dimly lit ground.

"Who are you?" I ask again, this time with fear.

"Do you have any idea what it is that you're doing?" he says, taking a sharp step forward, "Did you not read the writing on the wall?" he says, forcing a half-crazed, half-menacing looking smile.

"Are you the one who did this to him?"

"That boy is a murderer. He's killed hundreds of innocent people. And he plans to kill many more."

"You're the murderer! I saw what you did. All those bodies in the lobby back there. That was your doing wasn't it?"

"That was collateral damage. It happens sometimes. Now give him up!"

"If you want him that badly, then why don't you just take him from me?" I say, flashing the pipe.

"Give him to me and worry about your own life! Don't do something that you're going to regret later."

"My life is none of your business, and neither is his!"

"It is your business if I kill you!" he retorts with a cold gaze, the veins pulsing in his throat, causing me to flinch.

"...if I give him to you, do you promise to leave me alone?"

"If God wills it, you'll never have to see my face again."

I mull it over in my mind, looking down at the pipe when an idea strikes me.

"That's not good enough." I reply, and as I clutch the pipe in my hand, I envision it being wrapped in flames, causing it to ignite, before throwing it at his face; he's quick to dodge it, but his coat catches fire. As he's distracted, I take the boy and run toward the other side of the alley, turning onto an empty street, crossing and zig-zagging through several more alleyways until I'm certain we're out of his sight. I spy a dumpster tucked into a corner that is isolated from the view outside the alley. I push it to the side, checking over my shoulder to make sure there's nobody behind us, and then lift the green plastic lid and peek into the bottom. The inside is completely empty; it's the perfect place to camp out for a couple of hours until the sun rises. Just as I am about to place the boy inside, I notice a faint shape glimmering in the moonlight. A nondescript body that rests against the edge twitches to life, when an object comes rushing towards me as if out of nowhere. I barely have time to react, and the four-pronged spear slices the side of my cheek. At once I seize the spear with my grip, and struggle against my attacker; the noppera-bo's head assumes the visage of the man from before. He laughs with a crazed look in his eye as I struggle against him, both of his hands trembling against my single arm.

"So you're the one who inherited the black flame from Goshen, are you?" he says, rasping as he tries to force the spear closer to my face, "It's such a shame that I'll have to bring your body back with me. Siegfried has been looking everywhere for you!"

"Siegfried? Who's that?" I manage to choke out, even as the spear edges dangerously close to my skin.

"It doesn't matter anymore. You're the enemy!" he hisses, the manic glint in his eyes reflecting the moonlight.

Using all my strength, I push against the spear, diverting its direction just enough to buy me a moment. I elbow his face with all the force I can muster, knocking the back of his head against the metal edge of the dumpster. The man falls over, his grip loosening. I wrench the spear from his hands and swing it, clipping him across the face. He staggers back and the dumpster lid closes over him. I light the lid on fire and, grabbing the boy's hand, pull him out of the dumpster's shadow, throwing him over my shoulder before bolting down the alley. Behind us, I hear the man shout, a mixture of rage and hysteria, but I don't look back. The streets are a maze, and I use every twist and turn to our advantage, hoping to confuse our pursuer.

In the distance, I see lights shooting up towards the clouds, blinking in a noticeable pattern, as if to signal someone nearby. As I move closer, I realize that it's coming from the top of a skyscraper just a few blocks away. I decide to make it my goal, as the slim chance of finding refuge in strangers' hands seems better than running aimlessly through the streets with some weirdo on my tail. I adjust the boy on my shoulder, reassuring him with a quiet promise that we'll find safety soon. I turn a right onto the following street in the direction I'm headed, when I see two figures standing on the road ahead of me; two more figures emerge from the alleyways on the sides, and when I look behind me, there are four more of them. I'm completely surrounded.

"You can't evade me any more easily than you can evade death and taxes."

"You just don't know when to let up!"

I set the boy down behind me, positioning myself protectively in front of him. The man who had emerged from the burning dumpster, his coat charred but still smoldering, steps forward from the group. His expression is one of twisted satisfaction.

"A kindly idiot. You are a rare breed," he says, almost admiringly, though his tone carries a chilling undercurrent. "If I was anymore sinister than I am, I would leave you to your devices, just so you had to suffer the guilt of your mistakes."

Looking around, I see the other figures closing in, their steps deliberate, almost mechanical. It's clear they're not just random thugs; they're well-coordinated, and he's controlling them all somehow. Despite the overwhelming odds, a flicker of defiance ignites within me. I refuse to surrender here.

"You talk a lot about mistakes," I retort, scanning the circle of encroaching figures for a weak point. "But your biggest mistake was thinking you could intimidate me into giving up. You have strength in numbers, but I could feel how weak you were back there. I'm not going down without a fight!"

The man in the charred coat chuckles darkly, as if amused by my bravado. "I like your spirit! If God wills it, then you will survive! But only if God wills it!"

Thinking quickly, I thrust my hands onto the ground, surrounding myself with a ring of fire; as the figures approach, they are halted by the searing flames. I'm not sure how long it will keep them away, but at least I have more time to think. Suddenly, one of them rushes through, swinging a knife at me, but I trip him as he passes by, and he falls onto the knife before being engulfed in the flames that had spread onto his clothing.

"Do you know what it's like to feel the pain of death over and over again? It's a sublime feeling. The spirits that live here; I can feel the phantoms of their every hope and dream slowly pacing into annihilation. We're all fated to become nothing together."

I turn a deaf ear to his monologue and remove the knife from the body of the dead guy lying behind me, when a man armed with a katana pushes through the flames, followed by a woman with a cane sword. I promptly ignite the knife and toss it at the man, who is closest to me, kicking him into the other, watching them both explode and fade into charred remains on the ground. As my mental exhaustion begins to set in from sustaining the flames, I can see them waver, and for a second they vanish completely.

"Oh? Are we done already? That's quite a shame, isn't it?"

Peering beyond the flames, I see one of them pull out a pistol and aim it towards me. I flinch reflexively, and much of the fire seems to coalesce around a fixed point in front of me as a result; when he fires, the flames eat the bullet completely, though it took a significant amount of energy in order to do that. I move the last of the flames toward the shooter's feet, and consume him, leaving myself vulnerable for a moment as I dash for the gun; in the corner of my eye I notice a familiar shape perched atop a nearby apartment building.

"Not so fast!" he shouts, raising his sword to cut me down; I feint and fall down in a gesture of surrender.

"It's too late for that!" he says as he swings.

Thinking quickly, I shoot at the crow, praying that it hits, and the bird bites the bullet.

"Bullseye!" I say as it drops several stories towards the ground. Subsequently all of the bodies that he controls follow, assuming their regular forms in the process, dropping to the floor. The mannequin in front of me teeters over, pounding the asphalt at nearly the same time as the others. Just as quickly as the strange man had appeared, he was gone. Was this how the boy managed to survive the onslaught in the lobby? I wonder. 

It would mean that it's probably not the last I'll see of him. 

But nevermind that, it's time to hightail it out of here.

I switch the safety on and tuck the gun into my jacket before darting into a nearby underpass, its shadows offering a momentary respite. I glance at the building in the distance, seeing faint silhouettes on the rooftop. 

As we approach the skyscraper, the blinking lights become brighter and more insistent, pulsating in a rhythm that almost feels like a heartbeat. The entrance to the building is surprisingly unguarded, perhaps because they're expecting someone soon. In the plaza, as we're making our way towards the door, I am startled by the voice of an elderly man beckoning me.

"Young lady, what are you doing out so late?" he asks. When I look to the side, there's a codger standing still as a statue on top of a rectangular barrier enclosing some of the hedges beside the walkway outside of the building. He's dressed in a kimono and geta, and his concave back is hunched over, so as to balance himself upon his cane. He lightly taps the tip on the ground, seemingly as to gain someone's attention, but he doesn't appear to be facing me.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask, but he doesn't immediately answer.

Just as I am about to turn away, he taps his cane again.

"Yes, young lady, I am speaking to you. Come over here. Do not walk away from me."

"Please sir, this boy has been badly injured, and he needs medical help!" I say frantically, pleading with him as I approach. He raises his cane and places it against my lips; his narrowed eyes open to their meridian, and through the cataracts forming in his eyes, I can almost see the halos surrounding my head.

"Whatsoever I say unto you, do it." he commands, "Be still." and I nod in return, quelling my shaking.

He raises his cane once more and points it towards the lobby. As if he were controlling the doors with his mind, they suddenly swing open.

"Go inside and take the boy to the holding cells, and abide there until I give you free passage to leave." 

Inside, the lobby is dimly lit and deserted. The usual security measures seem to be offline, maybe due to a power outage or sabotage. As I hurry inside with the injured boy in my arms, the doors swing shut behind us with an ominous thud. The eerie silence of the lobby is only broken by the soft hum of the red emergency lights and the sound of my footsteps echoing off the polished marble floors.

Following the old man's instructions, I navigate through the labyrinthine hallways, searching for the holding cells. The deeper we venture into the building, the more unsettled I become. The walls seem to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and shadows dance at the edges of my vision.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally come across a sign among others that says "Holding Cells" pointing to an area downstairs. The air grows colder as we descend, and the red emergency lights cast an eerie glow on the concrete walls. The boy in my arms shivers, and I hold him closer, trying to shield him from the cold. There are dark webs sprawling his cheeks, though I understand that there isn't much that I can do for him besides laying him to rest, whether that be sleep or death. At the bottom of the stairs, we find ourselves in a narrow, brightly lit corridor. The walls are lined with large rooms covered by heavy metal bars, each one marked with a number. The silence here is even more oppressive than in the lobby above, and I can't shake the feeling that there is another presence here. I walk slowly down the corridor, searching for an empty cell where I can lay the boy down and tend to his injuries. Finally, I come across an unlocked cell; the last cell on the left. Pushing the gate open with my foot, I step inside and gently lay the boy down on the bare cot. The cell is small and cramped, with nothing but a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and a small, barred window set high in the wall. 

With my hand, I push away his hair and feel his forehead. He's developing some kind of fever.

"You poor thing." I mutter, mustering up what pity I can from my empty soul, full of apathy and exhaustion. I rummage through my pockets, finding a small, somewhat crumpled packet of aspirin I had stashed away. It's not much, but it might help reduce his fever.

I carefully prop him up against the cot's thin mattress, patiently waiting for him to open his eyes, if it's possible. After five minutes of staring blankly into the light above me, the clang of a closing door echoes from somewhere upstairs. Thinking that the old man has sent someone down to greet us, I relax in my seat. The faint footsteps grow louder, coming down the stairs. I notice a small necklace dangling from his neck and take the pendant into my hands; it appears to carry some kind of red gemstone. As they enter into the corridor, I see the boys eyes open, at last.

"Are you the one who saved me?" he asks, causing me to drop it.

"Someone's coming to help you right now." I say, before getting up and leaving my seat.

"Wait." he says, tugging on my jacket, "I have to return the favor."

And when I turn around, I see a large black arm hurtling towards me; it sends a punch straight through my heart.