Wow big guy. That's some pretty harsh stuff.

I've been having nightmares ever since you rescued me. Nothing involving the reaper, though. Just flashbacks to... you know, what happened in Chicago.

Last night it was a flashback to that thing in the backyard...

Actually, you've been figuring in my nightmares a lot, big guy. I hope you won't take offence when I say this but I really hope we never have occasion to meet face to face again.

I've started taking sleeping pills just to cope.

Well then, it would seem that I would make three. I to have been having troubling dreams since Chicago. They are about the first hunt I did after finishing my training.

I was tracking a werewolf in Michigan, and since it was my first hunt on my own I wanted to make sure that everything went perfectly. I tracked the beast's patterns for two weeks before I made my move. I entered it's layer packing enough silver to cause a market shift, only to find that it was not there despite the fact that according to everything I knew about it it should have been sleeping.

It seems that while I was studying it, it to was studying me. It fed me false information so that when I came for it, it would be off hunting for others. Tracking it from there was easy because now it was not hiding. I came to a lovely home seated on three acres of land. There were numerous cars in the long drive way. With that many people there there should have been more noise, but the place was as quiet as library on a Friday night.

I raced to the house praying I was wrong, but knowing I wasn't. As I reached the front steps, I could see the door hanging by a single hinge, swaying in the gentle night breeze. One look through that door told me I was going to hate myself for being fooled. In the foyer, a sign fluttered softly. It said "Happy Seventh Birthday Lindsey!".

I forgot my training at that point and rushed into the house, trying find out if there had been any survivors. The gruesome scene laid out before me assured my eye's that none lived, but still I moved from body to body checking for any small sign of life, in a vain hope that my need to be perfect had not led to the deaths of 34 people.

10 adults.
24 children

All dead for my pride.

It was as I moved about the dead when it jumped me. It was male and in it's altered form it stood nearly nine feet tall. My armor took the brunt of the impact, but it still knocked me across the room. That was when my training took back over and I drew my shotgun. I am fairly fast, it was much faster.

The second hit sent me through a wall into the kitchen, my Spas went in another direction. As I drew my self up out of what had been a breakfast nook, I drew Nemesis and set myself for it's next lunge. It pounced through the hole in one bound, looking to pin me under it. What it got was Nemesis plunged into it's chest.

From there the fight went in my favor, and that beast's sliced up corpse was found with the rest.

I have only gone into this much detail because I want you all to know what happened. Because in my most recent dreams, I have been watching what happened to those thirty four souls, through their eyes.

Every night since Chicago.

Slayer wrote:The second hit sent me through a wall into the kitchen, my Spas went in another direction. As I drew my self up out of what had been a breakfast nook, I drew Nemesis and set myself for it's next lunge. It pounced through the hole in one bound, looking to pin me under it. What it got was Nemesis plunged into it's chest.

What?

I must be tired, there's no way I just read that.

Nemesis:
Yes, you read it. The name of my sword is Nemesis. That has been it's name since creation.

Cessiel:
That is very true, and I have fallen more than once. But if we do not fall, then we do not learn and are doomed to repeat our mistakes.

Thanks Doc, but to be honest I didn't even know Brutal and Techno were there. I was only after the creature, those mob fools just got in the way.

Brutal, I hear you. I have had dreams about that night before to, but never from the victim's perspective before, it has been.... unsettling.

Familiar how exactly? If you have any thoughts please share them because my research has not turned up any leads.

I haven't been able to sleep well for years, only getting a few hours of sleep here and there. But I never have have dreams that I remember.

I usually just go and putter in the shop when I can't sleep. I seem to get a lot done at night.

Seems to be a lot of bad dreams going around lately.

If you lay off the bottle, the dreams may go away, my good Doctor Boggs.

Is there anything else to these dreams, do you think?

Sadly the drinking was part of an ill considered attempt to ignore or blot out the lousy things, but I digress. As it happens I had the 'dream' again last night but... well I'll just recount it and let you decide.

After an evening I have only the haziest recollection of I passed out in my latest hotel room hoping for a night free of dreams. Just like every night recently I was back being that young dumbass who was all full of himself with the taste of power. I'd past the last of my Grandpa's tests and I could finally do any damned thing I wanted and sure enough I was. Every night the dream started just as I cracked open the safe of a promising looking house I'd spotted a few days before. I didn't even need the money but I got a rush from being able to just walk in and out people's houses and take what I wanted, the power always seemed to go out when I approached the houses and locks were as simple to open as Ali Babas cave, although I was still careful to scope the places out first so nobody would be home during my visits. Except of course I got cocky.

So there I was in this complete strangers house popping there safe open with a s*** eating grin when I hear someone walk into the room. Some part of me knows this isn't real and fights so damn hard to resist, but I still panic at the unexpected intrusion. Just like every other night I can only watch in horror as I spin around and lash out with the heavy flashlight I'm carrying and club the old man in the temple. Then I stand there uselessly as he tumbles over sideways and cracks his head against a large chest with a sickening crunch. Time seems to stretch as I stand there with my mouth flapping noiselessly while I fought with myself over whether I should run like hell or call for help. I'll admit I almost booked it, but changed direction at the last second and went for the phone to call an ambulance and nuts to the consequences.

Normally that's when the man stands up completely unharmed and perceptions twist slightly as his image is replaced with that of my Grandpa, who had been teaching me a pretty sorely needed lesson. Maybe it doesn't seem that nightmarish to some, but I still remember the moment when I thought I'd killed an innocent old man for no reason and I'm not fond of recalling it in vivid detail. But last night instead of my Grandpa a strange man appeared, I couldn't seem to focus on anything but his face which was oddly familiar with its receding hair line and bushy eyebrows, but I can't quite place it. He spoke to me in this deep voice and I could hear the suppressed tones of amusement laced throughout, "this has all been very enlightening. I never realized that such a group of people existed. But I do now and I also have your dreams well in hand."

He stopped and held up a single finger. "In exchange for the information you have provided me, I have decided you may bear a message for me to your friends. Or one of them at least. Tell The Fallen that his daughter... she has very pretty eyes!" And then the dream faded out to the sounds of his laughter.

I cannot imagine who that was and no clue who the Fallen may be except he's probably a board member. I'm concerned enough I thought I should let everyone know though.

I have two daughters.

Keiko has eyes just like mine.

Katherine has green eyes.

But no one has ever referred to me as 'The Fallen', to the best of my knowledge.

Who here with a daughter refers to themselves or is referred to as 'The Fallen'?