I am the forerunner of mind and thought
Clarity I achieve
Through the cleansing
The damned will be washed
Souls will be cleaned
My knife is the agent
Of this world's salvation
There will be no end
My mission is eternal
And even in my fall
It will continue

    The man tripped over a body. Lazily he pushed himself back up, always singing the same words as he went. Kit felt goosebumps crawl up his arm. Shivers sent up his spine. Helena placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
    “It's okay, Kit. You don't have to watch this if you don't want to.”
    Kit hadn't realized until now, but his breathing had become ragged. “No, I want to. It's okay...”
    Three men in blue police uniforms make themselves seen through the footage.
    “Stop, stop now!” one of them shouts, but his shouting falls on deaf ears.
    “I am the savior... I am the savior...”
    The man who had shout stepped ahead of his comrades and pointed his weapon at the stumbling singer.
    “This is your last opportunity. I will shoot if you persist!”
    “This cleansing... you will become a part of it...”
    “Damnit...” The cop's hand shook visibly. Then it exploded.
    “The hell? I thought these weren't supposed to do that...”
    “No safeties are perfect, I guess.” A second cop stepped forward before his gun exploded as well. Both officers stood in shock, blood dripping where their hands once stood. The third cop raised his gun hesitantly at the approaching murderer before dropping it and running.
    The bearded man was on him like a hound. Before he could even scream, the fleeing police officer died. His spine stood out from his back for all to see.
    The other two were in shock. The killer approached them slowly, with sure-footedness. Neither offered any resistance as his blade crossed their necks. The footage stopped.
    “We don't typically show this footage, Kit, even to those who ask. You're kind of a special exception...”
    “I know. I had to see it... Hard to believe that man once... with my mother.”
    “You'd be surprised how common a statement like that can be, even when murder is not involved. Disasterstrike may as well be as old as time if it weren't for the special conditions of these murders.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, before the Yorrenites we still had needless deaths. Certainly the Yorrenites are a threat, but it all goes back to that 'condition of the soul' thing. The fact that people are capable of murder is nothing new.”
    “Yeah,” Kit said distractedly, “I guess so...”
    “You look tired, Kit. This has been a long day, and don't think I haven't noticed that you haven't eaten. Can I buy you dinner?”
    “No... I think... I think I'm just gonna head on back to the apartment for now.”
    Helena nodded. “I understand. Take it easy for a couple of days, Kit. You're obligated to fulfill your duties here, but your duties do not include breaking yourself.” Kindly, she embraced him for a moment.
    “Thanks, Helena.” Kit walked out of the room, apparently dragging himself and his will with him.

    Outside of her own apartment, Susan was waiting.
    “Mr. Xxxx, I want to speak with you.”
    “Some other time, Susan...”
    “I just want to apo--”
    “Later!” he snapped. His door slammed behind him.
    Wearily, Kit took a moment to review the contents of his fridge. A moment was all that was necessary, as the contents included an old block of cheese and some molding yogurt. He briefly considered reviewing his cupboard before resigning himself to passing out in his bed.

    If the previous evening had been sleepless, this evening had qualified as “negative sleep.” All through the night, Kit suffered through images of his father running around with a butcher's knife, cutting people down. Men, women, children, all paralyzed with fear. Before him lay the bodies of the dead and the still forms of those who would not run, scream, or fight.
    He watched as Yorren struck them down, one by one. With each fallen victim, the wrinkles on his face would lighten. Yorren would stand straighter. His pace would increase. His beard seemed to grow shorter. Where once his hair was gray, it had become red. His paunch dissapeared, replaced by a poory defined thinness. Kit watched, mouth dry with terror and shock, as a carbon copy of himself continued to mow down the innocent and guilty alike.
    And throughout it all, an orchestra of death filled the air, as rancid to his ears as the smell of the corpses were to his nose.

    “Well, good morning, sunshine.” Walter passively greeted Kit. The microwave timer stated “1:00.”
    Helena placed a styrofoam cup of some steaming liquid down on the counter and addressed Kit. “I thought I told you to take it easy, Kit.”
    “I can't rest...”
    “Try some Nyquil,” Walter suggested.
    “Nothing will work. Not until there are no more Yorrenites.”
    “How very admirable, Kit. It's always nice to see someone so invested in their work.”
    “I'm invested.” Walter sounded wounded. “This job offers a very nice retirement account.”
    “And we shall all have an opportunity to earn that today,” Susan announced stoically as she entered the room. “If surveillance is correct, there is a Yorrenite outside of the city.”
    “How do they know?” Walter asked.
    “Dead bears.”
    “Oh, well, could be any hunter dude with a gun.”
    “Dead bears with knife wounds.”
    “Everyone's got a hobby, I guess...” Walter's shoulders slumped in defeat.
    “Not that I'm complaining, but why don't these guys ever use guns?” Kit asked.
    “They do, occasionally. It's all a matter of what is available when they go on their rampage. More than once we've had to placate armed police officers and the like,” Helena offered.
    “So where exactly did the reports come from?” Apathy dotted Walter's question mark.
    “Down the end of Old Way.”
    Walter let out an impressed whistle. “Spooky. Good choice.”
    “Okay,” Helena clapped her hands together once, meaning it was time to get down to business. “Walter, I want you to take Kit out to check out the road. Don't deviate into the woods. It's too risky. There aren't any people living out there, so you're not going to save any lives by putting yourselves in too much danger. Just investigate and handle encounters as they come.”
    “What about me?” Susan looked befuddled.
    “You'll continue monitoring the radios. Be sure to have one tuned in on Walter's frequency.”
    “I don't understand,” Susan's face seemed to be turning red, “I always go on missions.”
    “Not today. I need you to listen to the radios.”
    “This is about him, isn't it?” Susan pointed an accusing finger at Kit, who stepped back in surprise.
    “Your recent malice towards Kit did figure into my decision, yes.”
    “This is so much bull shit!” Susan was in an unprecedented rage mode. “I'm a much more experienced singer than he is! He doesn't even know what he's doing! He just opens his mouth and... stuff comes out!”
    “Ms. O'Hara!” Helena's sharp speech brought the rage to an abrupt end. “Your... loud... opinions of Mr. Xxxx have been noted. However, I have complete faith in him and Mr. Indigo. They will be handling this mission. You will be handling surveillance. Understood?”
    “Yes, Doctor...”
    “And I expect you to handle it well, Ms. O'Hara. Your recent track record of letting your feelings affect your work is not good.”
    “Yes, Doctor...”
    Thoroughly chastised, Susan left the room to resume her surveillance duties. Helena sighed wearily.
    “Okay, Walter, be sure to take a flashlight.”
    Kit looked confused. “It's still early afternoon.”
    Walter walked out nonchalantly, not waiting for Kit to follow. “Take her word for it, we're gonna need it.”

    An hour and a half drive took Walter and Kit to the outskirts of town. Office buildings gave way to homes, which soon gave way to trees. Every attempt Kit made at conversation just led to Walter turning the speakers up.
    “Relax, kid, don't you like Pink Floyd?” Kit did not respond. Walter sighed. “Look, it's just that this is the first time I've gotten to go out without Ms. O'Blowhard keeping the mood down. Just enjoy the ride; we're almost there.”
    Prophecy itself could not have been timelier. The trees had been thick for miles, a forest running parallel to the road. Walter parked the car outside a dirt road that led into the forest. Even from the outside, the necessity of a flashlight was apparent. The trees formed a canopy over the road, as if in a concentrated effort to keep light from ever touching it.
    “Okay, kiddo, take the flashlight and stay beside me. You heard Helena, there's no reason for either of us to go out of our way. We'll walk down the road, we'll walk back up the road.”
    “I know that's what Helena told us to do, but we really should find the Yorrenite. If we don't, more people will die.”
    “More people will always die, kid, no matter what you do. Besides, there probably isn't even a Yorrenite out here. Some dead animals don't really mean that much.”
    Kit's final objection was a half hearted sigh. He grabbed the flashlight and slipped out the car. Without even waiting for the sound of Walter's door to close, he ran ahead, turning the flashlight.
    “Hey, wait up!” Walter shouted. “Take your time... damn!”

    It didn't take long for Kit to accommodate Walter's leisurely pace.
    “How long is this road, anyway?” Kit asked.
    “I don't know. I've never gotten to the end before.”
    “Isn't that what, like, the internet is for?”
    “Look like I have a laptop, kid? Shit, even if I did, you think you're gonna find a signal out here?”    
    “Speaking of signals, maybe we should report in so they know we're still alive. It's been over an hour.”
    “Yeah. Usually they call first. I wonder why Susan hasn't yet.”
    Kit sighed guiltily.
    “Whatever, kid, it's like I said. Susan is a full on blow hard. Don't let it get to you.” He raised the radio up to his mouth. “Susan, this is Walter and Kit, checking in.” Silence. “Susan, can you hear me?” Static, then silence again. “Susan? ... Looks like we're on our own.”
    Then darkness came. “Damnit, kid, keep the flashlight on.”
    “Uhh... I think it ran out of juice. I'm not getting anything.”
    “Damn. There's no way we're going to be able to find our way back in this darkness. The best plan is to just sit and wait until they notice we're gone. They'll have to send someone out eventually.”
    “Wait a minute. Do you hear that?”
    “What? I don't hear any-- wait, I do. It sounds like singing.”
    “It could be a Yorrenite.”
    “Guess we better check it out. Not like there's anything better to do.” In the darkness, Kit could hear Walter unholstering his gun. Together, they followed the music, abandoning the road for an obstacle course of trees. Not five minutes afterwards did Kit detect the noise of crashing and falling.
    “This isn't going to work,” Walter grumbled. “We know which way we're going, but that's not gonna get us around these trees.”
    “Well, there's one thing we can try...” Kit conceded. He cleared his throat before emitting a low hum. As vibrations coursed through his throat, a dim light emitted from the flashlight.
    “Why didn't you do that earlier?”
    Darkness. “I just thought of it.”
    “Whatever, just keep going.”
    “You know, whoever else is singing will probably hear me.”
    “So we'll all find eachother that much sooner, bang bang, he's dead, we go home!”
    “... Right.” Clearing his throat again, Kit began to sing a wordless song. The notes were light and bouncy, almost as if from a song written for children. As he sang, he could feel energy running down his arm to the flashlight, which was now showing the way much more brightly than even when it had its own power.
    A few more minutes of exploration soon led Kit and Walter to the source of music.
    “I don't get it,” Walter griped, “It sounds like it's right here, but I don't see anything.”
    “I do.” Kit pointed the flashlight at a blue tarp sitting on the ground. From the outside, the outline of a human body could be perceived. Slowly, Walter inched over to the tarp before removing it from the ground. Indeed, a human body had been beneath the tarp. Now he simply lay there, pale, bald, naked and unmoving. The head had been severed, but lay just above the neck none the less.
    “Like I said, kiddo, more people will alway—YAH!” The eyes of the body shot open. A maniacal grin spread across the face. Grabbing the bald head and cradling it at his side, the body jumped to the ground and began dancing in spins and jumps in time to the music, which had suddenly transitioned into a carnival theme.
    “Aaah! Shoot it! Shoot it!” Then darkness once again came.
    “I can't see when you're not singing!”
    “... I can't sing! It's just not coming!”
    “Let me help you with that,” a third voice.
    A spotlight shone from above, its origin a complete mystery. Illuminated by the sudden light was a teenage boy. Pink hair fell flat against his head, long to his shoulders and the bangs just long enough to reach his eyebrows. A black sweatshirt hung off his body, giving way to torn blue jeans and a pair of all black sneakers. At his feet lay the previously dancing body. The head had presumably rolled out of the spotlight.
    “There, all better.” The boy cracked a twisted smirk. “Well, then, you made it!”
    “Who the hell are you?” Walter's grip on his weapon tightened.
    The boy performed a sweeping bow. “My name is ARGH I AM SHITTY WRITER WHO CANT COME UP WITH NAMES FOR HIS CHARACTERS SERIOUSLY FUCK THIS