Knives had often admired the streets of Sher Kahn, and now, as he rode slyly on the mobile pathway of the upper city, he felt his admiration of the utopia skyrocket. The technological wonderland had often filled his life with inspiration. Its endless skyscrapers, its crowded roads, and sidewalks, and even its compact restaurants and street vendors. All had a separate place in his heart. This endless metropolis, filled from end to end with every possible convenience,had always been his only love... or the only one that he could recall at the moment.

His destination reached, Knives brushed through a set of pedestrians, and onto the normal sidewalk. His favorite newsstand lay in its path, so he saw no fault in paying a quick visit. The vendor took great delight in meeting with Knives' presence, and was more than happy to acknowledge him with an over the top mannerism. "My Ma-n-n!"

Knives returned the good gesture, a pleasant smile creeping way up his lips.

"How goes the exploits Mr. Reaves?" The husky old man raised an eyebrow.

"Same as always... I guess."

The news vendor shuffled behind his counter for a moment before pulling out a crisp set of newsrods. He handed Knives one, just as the lone wolf started off once more. The top of the meticulous rod was pressed, a transient green screen pulsing from its side. Front Page news was as expected. The neon blue headline read: "Lenarian robbery; three weeks in, still no suspects."

Knives laughed to himself as the investigators circled the scene of the crime, through the flat hologram that riddled the screen...

"How Nostalgic" He admitted, while retracting the newsrod to its smallest size and tucking it into his black jeans pocket. His eyes perused the multitude of holoprojector that bordered the side of the buildings above, in search of any propaganda involving the heist, but found none. Knives shrugged, and seeing that it was his turn to cross the street, proceeded.

Knives entered the P.S.R room with his jacket across his shoulder, his white tee-shirt exposed, and his overly priced shoes tracking God knows what through the front door. He was surprised when security, instead of escorting him out the door and demanding to change his attire, welcomed him with relumingly candid smiles.

"Pretending to be Bloody Knives again?" The front desk receptionist smiled giddily as she gestured for the sword tethered to Knive's upper waist. He smiled in relief at being labeled "pretending" and replied calmly while unlatching it from his waist.

"Yeah... pretending."

Sword wielding was a trend Knive's had put into play long ago. Seeing a group of teens or individuals bearing swords to emulate his style was a bit flattering. And in this way, he could carry around his sword without drawing any unwanted attention.

The P.S.R. room was as crowded as ever, and as Knives began striding through his endless corridors he'd think it to bear no better name than the public storage room. Grafted into nearly every corner of the walls around him were computerized steel plated lockers. They were stocked in a symmetrical fashion and stretched as far as the eye could see. Knives found his designated room, marked "R," and was delighted as the transparent doorway slid open for him. He approached his locker and gently slid the card key he'd received from the clerk, into its open recess.

*Hello Mr. Reaves* The lockers server flickered into life, the Sherkanian emblem pixilating into the center of the panel. *State your mother's maiden name* the computer directed. The security measure had always annoyed Knives, and he answered reluctantly.

"Bertanya..."

*Your favorite person is... *

"Ani Mundi"

*Your most prized possession is... *

"My soul." The computer accepted his statements, and after the neon greens of the retinal scan blurred his vision the contraption was ready to be opened.

The whir of the pressure lock releasing put Knive's mind at ease, and as his eyes seized the black duffel bag in its confine, a breeze of relief swept over him. He quickly snatched up the bag and slammed the locker's door, only to find that a comrade's dazzling eyes had rested upon him. The matchless Goddess stood, one hand pressed against an iron locker, and the other planted against her sultry hips. Once upon a time, the woman's angelic face, and exceptionally graceful body had driven him wild. He'd often admired the long, cascading, ribbons of dark brown hair that flowed down the center of her back. And most of all, he had once lost himself in the beauty of her hazel eyes. But that was a long time ago... or that's what he told himself...

"G-Gearhead!" he managed to say, as he tried vainly to stuff the duffel bag back into the locker.

"Whats that? Gearhead pursed her supple lips in child like curiosity.

"Whats what?" Knives smiled fakely and shuffled the bag behind his back.

"You bastard !" Gearhead shrilled, taking a second look at the duffel bag " You were going to take the bag and high tail it outta here!"

"I wouldn't !" Knives lied.

"How dare y..." Knives' left palm clamped over Gearheads mouth, and his eyes narrowed intensely

"Dare not speak my name." He joked, though his expression portrayed otherwise. His comrade wasted no time in chomping on the inner of his palm, and he snatched it back instinctively. She spouted viciously:

"How dare you "Christian," Knives felt a throbbing pain wave through his stomach "Tahlgeese" The pain grew even more poignant in wrath "Elverave" Knives was nearly floored by the upsurge of gnawing pain. His true, full name stated, Knives rose slowly, the quasi-like pain subsiding.

"My name is Nasser Reaves in public, got that?"

"Awwww." The sylph cooed, cupping the sides of Knives' face with her hands "But Elverave sounds so much better."

With the distain of his code name abolished, Christain Tahlgeese Elverave swatted Gearheads hands away and started out the door way. Gearhead took great delight in annoying Elverave, and wore a broad smile as she followed closely behind him.

"Your really planning on running away with that?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Then I'm going with you."

"No you're not." Elverave snapped sharply "Think about it... The A.S.P arrived at our door step "guns a blazin'" and chased us relentlessly. Enigma informed the police of our location, so I'm sure he told them about the locker. "Either that," Elverave said slowly "or he didn't tell the police... and he'll come for it himself." Gearhead haulted her stride, and no longer hearing her consistent footsteps Elverave did the same.

"You can take Enigma right?" Elverave turned to face Gearhead, his eyes embroiling her. It was as if he was devouring her, stripping her away from this mundane, and shifting her to a realm in which only he and her stood present.

"Me, he's beat Enigma? Pfffft, yeah right."

"That's not like you." Gearheads eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"I speak the truth," he riddled. "because the truth is where the truth is."

"...What?"

Elverave carefully hooked his favored sword sheath to his back, and in the same instance made sure the bag over his shoulder was positioned correctly. The ditsy receptionist was asserting him with a hail of rhetorical questions, but he didn't care. He was more concerned with his current predicament. The pathway to the P.S.R's exit was only about five yards away, but to Knives the marvel pathway seemed endless. For in the moment that he stepped through the front door, he would become the most wanted of wanted men.

A group of Pedestrians crowded the side walls of the six foot narrow path, probably waiting for the evening "hover trolley" they'd engaged in any antics that suited them. Card games of Shulai and Gen-si were particular favorites, and the relaxing mood the game presented soothed Elveraves' mind. For the moment...

Spawning from the light that was the outside world, a truly enigmatic figure across. His body was veiled ominously in a gunmetal grey cloak, that stretched from its full metal, intricately plated sections upon his shoulders, the tips of his equally elaborate steel toed boots. Even while herald in the light from the rows of lamps above, not even an inch of the figures face could be seen. For laddened firmly atop the head of the pariah was an era stylish, tattered tattersall hat, that also bore the steel plates about its center.

To Elverave, the man looked to be a cleavers nightmarishly remake of an old westerns desperado. An based on his looks alone he could concur, that just as the ostrikon looked to bare a hundred times the fearsome flair of the desperado, he could unleash dew of the same manner.

Even his walk told tale of his great power. And his head, lowered slightly to accommodate the might of his stride, only gave indication of his silent surveillance.All stared at him, for his presence brought on the demand.

Based solely on the scream of his intuition Elverave gently pushed Gearhead into the wall before him and stepped into her.Their bodies were so close now,that he could feel the acceleration of her throbbing heartbeat.

"Follow my lead" he whispered softly.And trusting the everlasting certainty in his eyes Gearhead did as he did.

Sher-Kahn was known for its blatant lovers.And now, as the figure strode past the two engaged in the artifice of zealous love, he gave them not a second thought. Or... did at frit. Once out of the man's perphereal vision the pair towards the open doorway...just as he'd anticipated, his head rising slowly.

Now standing to one side, with his right hand the mysterio groped at the metallic handles of his second most prized possession. Moving with all the speed and prominence of a streaking bolt of lightning,the gunman in a thrust of circular motion wielded his spectacularly ornate weapon from the lapels of his cloak. With just one squeeze of its sensitive trigger the P.S.R erupted into a rash of pandemonium. The mere shock wave of its destructive blast was forceful enough to shatter the fiber glass window panels of the room and cause its igniters cloak to dance victoriously in rushing turbulence.

But when the smoke cleared, their was nothing...both fugitives had escaped.The marksman took two steps forward before a security guard lept from the ashes and forced a hand gun into his chest. The incognito, using the sinister, triple barreled shotgun he bore with all the efficiency of a twirling baton, struck the officer four times before he could even blink, staining the pure white uniform he wore with pride in sloppy red indentions. The gunman blitzed through the P.S.R's now mangled doors, and was outside within a split seconds time. A young child stood in his path, frozen in the shock and awe of his emergence. Before starting off the fiend bellowed while cocking his weapon. His voice a sinister clash of man and machine.

*Stay in school*

Elverave and Gearhead ran as if all the demons of hell pursued them.They'd made it three blocks down the road before:

"Gearhead,"Elverave shouted breathlessly "we have to split up!"

"What?!"

"I've got the bag, so he'll probably come after me.If he sees us together he'll kill us both."

Gearhead stopped to catch her breath, and Elverave was forced to do the same.

"I" she exhaled "I'm s-staying with you..."

"No,I can't fight while I'm worried about young safety. We have to split up dammit! We'll rendezvous later."

Gearhead extended her wrist watch, through heavy breathing, to show a final acceptance of his idea. Elverave continued.

"Unless you see my icon on the radar stop moving, don't come after me. But when it does I either lost him, or... I'm dead. She looked at him like he was crazy. Talk of death from Elverave was uncanny. He'd always been one to spout boasts of escorting all odds, and so far had proven all his claims solid. But now,a soffit fear had crept into his eyes. Only one thing could scar him in such away, and Gearhead was one of the only people that new of its true origin

"You think it's him don't you?"

"Yeah... I think so. "With that Gearhead began, without question, heading in the opposite direction as Elverave. Seconds into her methodical run, the woman stopped suddenly, the felling of the cold, triple barreled shafts of a weapon groping at her sides,cemented her heels.

The hitman had positioned his gun through the double sides of a trash can, and had forced its three muzzles into Gearhead's side. He said nothing, though his gestures spoke volumes. After a moment of questionable staring, the gunman retracted his weapon and started off, leaving the young woman to ponder her own thoughts. Elverave was right. He'd surely have killed her if she had the bag. But still, the fact that had not laid a finger on her was quite puzzling. She wanted to follow the man and learn his true intentions... but in fear of her own life, she stood quietly.

The traffic at this time of day was atrocious at best. Vehicles of every type and brand lay bumper to bumper. Elverave found the only means of crossing the cybernetic expanse to be leaping from one car to the next, and that was exactly what he did. Upon jumping the third vehicle Elverave stopped to search for his stalker.

Rupturing from the roof of the of the car in which Elverave stood, came the iron suited hand of his opposer. Its bladed fingers constricted Knives' right leg in an unshakable choke hold,and he was left to stand idly as his enemy prepared to fire. For some reason reason-and Elverave thanked God for that reason-, his adversary missed in his first firing attempt,and the roof, now blown to cinders, gave Elverave leave way to slip away from the hold, and charge down the valley of still cars relentlessly. Before Elverave could even scale a forth car the shadowy figure was already upon him.

Bloody Knives could not turn and lift his guard fast enough,and was struck with the full force of his assailant. Elverave reached down to grip his bruised stomach, but was hit brutally once more, his body rocketing into the windshield of the car behind him, nearly shattering the partition.

Elverave flipped backwards onto the hood of the car, just as the shells of the triple barreled shotgun blasted the pane to near none existance. Elverave hauled himself atop the hover trolley to his right, and while ignoring the screams of irate civilians, searched his sides for what was known as a "maverick".

Even with the hybrid revolver aimed decisively, when the fighter across, Elverave found even excellent marksmanship to be nothing less then futile. With each round fired, the hitman jolted into the opposite direction. He dodged gunfire with all the proficiency of a butcher birds wings in mid flight, and just as the bird upon its prey... struck with insurmountable contingency.

The caper's wings streaked form nowhere, striking Elverave with an elevating intensity,and abstracting his reality as he fell nearly lifelessly. Before the grounded could rise again,his throat was gripped with a tyrannical force,and he looked up, staring at the drawn back fist of his opposer

"Who are you?" he grunted. The figure responded coldly, blades of crimson energy erecting from his knuckles.

"I have no name..." The bladed fist was thrust, though Knives, as expected was reluctant to accept death. He twisted the duffel bag from his side and erected it as a last means of defense. To his surprise,the cloaked man froze, the reasonant blades he bore, stopping less then inches away from the bag. In this moment of distraction, Knives was able to kick free his throat, and flip back with hands lifted.

Elveraves emergent anger was unleashed in a blinding flash,as in one spiral of motion, he struck his advisory with each of his four limbs. In lieu of the final breathtaking kick, the assassin fell over board and onto the street. Before Knives could even reach the vehicles edge, and aim the maverick the tyrant had disappeared.

All was still not well. And as Elverave lept from atop the trolley and sprinted into a ligere botique, he could feel his heart trying to claw its way out of his throat.

The cloaked renegade stepped slowly through the open doorway of the lingerie botique. He paused immediately and surveyed the room with the unseen eyes. He saw only women and teenage girls, once perusing through the boutiques huge selection of female unmentionables - they now stared in confusion.

"Ummm can I help you?" The tensed voice of a female clerk grazed the figures ears, and he turned only his head to face her.From behind the counter, her sickingly cute face bore a look of mild disgust,but considering his outer appearance, and the place in which he'd chosen to reside, he brushed off the cold stare.

"No thank you." He replied "I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"A man... Concubine. The way the incognito emphasized Concubine made the young woman's skin crawl,though she spoke remittingly.

"You mean brown skinned?"

"...."

"No,I haven't seen any men like that around here."

The yet to be named man stared at the woman for a few seconds, as if to find fault in her statement, before turning and walking out the front door.The woman exhaled in a sigh of relief, as she watched him stalk down the street.

Assured that he would not return again, the cashier knelt and beamed with delight.

"Now, the least you can do call me. "She smiled. Elverave was more then happy to return the good gesture, and in addition to this, he kissed her before swiftly jumping up and heading out the back door.

"Later Rem," he managed to say, just as his figures coiled around the door's handle.

"Bye baby." The beautiful Rem remarked sensually.

Strangely the crisp Sher Kahn air was not the first thing to meet Elverave's nose...the iron fist of his ruthless stalker had already taken its place. Before his body could meet the ground beneath it, the triple barrel shotguns shaft was already upon him, and if not for turning immediately he would have met with the same fate as the pulverized concrete. The shotguns blast came with all the ferocity of a plunging star from the heavens, and as his opponent fired and barely missed for second time he finally realized the severity of the situation. The two engaged in a brutal melee, though spoke coherently even through the detrimental swings they unleashed.

"You won't stop until I kill you.. will you ?" Elverave jabbed forward.

"Or... I kill you" The figure swept away his tightened fist.

"Do you work for the A.S.P?"

"....No."

"The A.R.P's-A.C.U?" The caper changed the subject, after blocking a forceful punch.

"That girl you were with... she asked me the same questions right before I killed her."

It took Knives a moment to fully interpret what was said,Gearhead...was dead? something inside him snapped for the demonic strength that invested him was almost like nothing he'd ever felt in his life. His eyes sharpened surreally, and the mortified expression that had veiled his face, twisting into one of satanic fury.

Even though his swings were thrown with a bitter contemp,the figure forced away each of Elveraves'blows... barely. His burning anger embellished his fists, and after finding lead way in his enemies style,he made contact with inhuman ferocity.The maurader was thrown by the impact of one dynamic punch some ten feet,and into the side of the alleyway. Before he could rise to fight again, Elverave had charged him,his cocked back fist extended to the foremost of his reach. Elverave tightened his eyes in anger, and with that, thrust his fist with all the strength his body could muster.

Elveraves' fist rocketed through the darkness that had shadowed his attackers face,and amazingly... split through both it, and the stone wall that backed its position. The wall incredibly, had crumbled under his might, and Elverave, so bewildered by this, finally opened his eyes in disbelief. There was no blood, not even a trace of contusion. As the brute's hat lay atop Elveraves forearm, and his cloak dangled underneath his pressed fingers... he realized that he had struck nothing.

"You blinked." The eerie falsetto once again pierced through Elveraves' ears, as his undertaker stood poised behind him. He wanted to turn... turn and face his now unconcealed enemy. But he could not, for he knew without a doubt... that the solid object forced into the back of his head was nothing less then deleterious. Elverave didn't dare move, though the anger consuming him still flailed hungerly.

"You bitch!"He glowered "I loved her"

" That so... If you love someone, make sure you tell them before you die, eh."

Elverave laughed to himself,and spoke sarcasticly. "Thank you... Mr. Hitman." His enemy released a short, glib chuckle, before plowing Elveraves head into the concrete wall before him.

For a moment, his world flashed into a well of darkness... As he awoke, not even three seconds later, the blood flowing from his temple rode down his face, and stung his eyes bitterly.

"You bare such strength" the hit man commended. "But as long as you allow your anger to overtake you, this will be the zenith of your power... You could be so much more."

"If you are going the kill me, then do it..."

"So eager to die... very well."

In one flash... it was all over.

Was this what death sounded like? A bullet that bore no sound? A solemn round that split through the atmosphere, and wailed across the skies. One that if blessed by the hand of God soared with uninhibited flourish... though Elverave would not find the answer in this hour, for his assaulter had yet to fire his weapon. Even so, the coherent projectile streaked through the air, the cry of its origin following seconds behind. With the terrifying speed and accuracy, the desperado snatched up the bullet while in mid air, and marveled at its composition. Knives had yet to realize that his enemy had been fired upon, but using the disruption of his foe's tactics to his advantage, he ducked away and distanced himself.

The transparent, silver rimmed round, cased in the assassin's hand brought about a nostalgic feeling. The lightening like energy strobing through its interior only fortified his recollection.

"Machina." he gasped, just as the bullet began chiming incessantly. It didn't take him long to realize what was happening, but before he could cast the device into the wind, it was too late.

The explosion was loud enough to be heard a city-state over, and ensnared all in its path in a plume of smoke and fire. Elvarave; who knew the low beeping of a time bomb all too well, had hid behind an iron hided trash can, and for now was protected.

He sat, devoid of space and reality, the lucid embers of fire reminding him of place lost is the toils of time. Of a place burned to ashes...and a place forgotten by all except him. The light of the flame had always blinded him with recollections of the past. Ones in which he'd prayed to forget over and over again... but found it harder each time.

Through the flames he rose, like a phoenix from the ashes. He walked with such fearlessly through the sea of flames that Elverave at first thought that he was hallucinating, but deciding he could not manifest so picturesque of a figure, shook off the notion. The young boy stood before him, his wild, yet tapered hair as black as the ornate black garbs he wore. The gray accented,trench coat-like-jacket that spanned from the ends of his wrist, to the balls of his knees, fluttered in the light breeze brought by the wind. The mesmeric shoes that cuffed the edges of his black pants smoldered through the blaze with angelic grace. And most of all, the fire in his eyes burned with all the intensity of the surrounding inferno.

"No..." Elverave thought,he could not conjure something so great. Although he looked to be nothing more then fifteen years of age, and stood only 5'6, he spoke with all the predominance of an ancient scholar. He began with a slightly Earthen accent. English perhaps...Elverave he decided.

"Dreams of Pairidine will never elude you...although it is lost and forever will be."

"Who are you?" Elverave stood slowly "That accent...you an Eartherner?"

"Of course not... I am like you, an angel without wings." Elverave masked his pain and confusion behind a skeptical smile.

"Angels?" he retorted "You and I are both human."

"Human?... My friend, the definition of th word has long since changed... Those who exhibit abnormal powers or strength are human.We... "

"Everyone on this planet is like that!" Elverave huffed whipping blood his brow.

Only the might of God can divert the harbinger of death... and had you not been diverted by your own anger, you may have defeated him."

"Who?!" That psycho son of a bitch?! He was "kickin" my ass... And... and... " Elverave stared at the young boy in inquiry "You saved me...?"

"That I did."

"Why?"

"I wish to alley with you."

"What? No!" Elverave gropped his throbbing head. "I've got enough problems...Gearheads dead..."

"I need your assistance." The boy cried.Deafening pain streaked through Elveraves' skull.

"I... I can't help you." He scowled.

"I saved your life...!"

"Everyone around me dies!" Knives exploded,unable to contain himself any longer."I'm a localized disaster! Everywhere I go, I bring nothing more then heart ache and pain. Siding with me would be a fate worst then death! Is that what you want?!"

"I see now." the oracle smiled grimly "The fire diverts you. When the wreath of fire blooms around you, you become the child once more. Full of resentment and self inflicted isolation. You'd do best to stay away form fire." The boy turned and turned and started off."When the curtains of flame have subsided," He called " I will come again... "By the way," he concluded." That girl is not dead..."

Elverave said nothing,just watched as the stranger strode through an envelope of fire, and blurred into none existence. The boy was right. When the walls of fire surrounded him, the hells of his past consumed his soul... and the only way out was to simply... wait. Wait until only he stood unscathed and everything around him had been blackened by the touch of death.

"He better not have died." Gearhead pouted prettily, her eyes locked on the red dot that had frozen in the center of the watch. It had been that way for eight minutes now, and she was slowly making her way to the location. She strutted like a runaway model past the faceless maze of pedestrians. And ignoring the various cat calls of some, she felt inclined to listen to one. He started.

"It is said that she who moves through the minds eye,is a specter of the imagination;But she who strides through the heart shall forever stay there.... And you my lady..."

Gearhead turned to face the speaker, and surprised with his visage, she first bore a look of astonishment, but then diverted into one of pure jubalation.

"You made that yourself?"

Yes... your overwhelming beauty inspired me." Gearhead was an extremely flirtatious individual. She'd always taken pride in leading someone on to the point of self proclaimed succession,then bludgeoning their pride with a smooth dismissal. Such was the case with Elverave, though his standing was... different to say the least.

"I'm flattered." She smiled graciously "B-u-u-t" She pointed out. "Your a bit young for my taste."

"Hmmm..." The young boy stroked his chin "Will you grace me with your name then?" Gearhead thought overtly for a moment.

"Gearhead." She chimed

"Come,Come now..." She took delight in the smoothness of his speech and answered sweetly.

"Deznia Krewlanser, and yours?" The boy took her hand in his.

"Milyardo Shayacquious." He declared.

There was something different about him... Something unearthly. Everything,from the way he walked, to the particular gestures he exhibited were new her. Just as she began to notice the further deviance of his persona, the busy street cleared, and with a wave,she started across the road. Her wrist was grabbed gently, and she turned instinctively. Deznias' first impulse was to strike him, but Milyardo's liquid eyes calmed her spirit.

He swiftly pulled a diamond studded trinket from the inners of his coat and handed it to her. She didn't want to accept it, but once again Milyardo's eyes persuaded her.

"A Goddess is not a Goddess unless ordained with this." He said. "Give my regards to Elverave."

Deznia was forced forward by the bulk of a crowed crossing the street, and was forced to step in toe with them. Before she knew it, Milyardo was out of sight..but not out of mind. Even now, as she'd already crossed the street and was about her way, she could his eyes upon her. But the strangest fact of the matter was: that more or less it was a feeling of serenity, as if his gaze protected her from all the dangers of the world.

She turned one final time, eager to see if Milyardo still watched her. To her slight surprise he was gone. She sighed with mixed feelings. While walking backwards, she clumsily bumped into someone, and spun spouting apologies.

"You should be more careful Gearhead." Elverave smiled, looking down on her.

Chapter 4