Wyatt opened his eyes. He blinked around, searching frantically for Star and her comrades.

"Wakey, wakey," someone smirked. Wyatt shot up in bed and swung his legs off, tripping into the wall. He saw a shadow outside of the abandoned trailer he was in.

Wyatt stepped back at the person who walked in.

The person's eyes were red, with jet black hair in the same style as Chase's. Wyatt felt a pang of sadness at the comparison. As Wyatt continued to study, he noted the black skull tattoo on the person's cheek, and two scars. One reminded Wyatt of the blade of a knife, whereas the other one resembled a large x. The person wore a black shirt, black jeans, boots, and a leather jacket.

"Who...are...you?" Wyatt whispered, frozen.

The man smiled and closed his eyes. "Who do you think I am, Wyatt Clark?"

Wyatt jolted. "Th...Thane?"

"Great that you remembered. Took you long enough, though. You've seen me before," he scrutinized Wyatt.

Wyatt squirmed under Thane's menacing gaze. "I have?"

Thane groaned. "Who the hell did you think Uncle Ethan was?"

"You mean the cheap one? That was you?"

Thane glared at him. "For your information, a brand new car to your mother wasn't considered cheap."

Wyatt sighed. "Never mind that. What happened after I passed out?"

"Well, obviously I saved your sorry weak ass."

Wyatt flinched at Thane's one. "Weak?"

"You may not realize, Clark, but you've depended on my power more than you're supposed to."

He opened his mouth to protest. Thane cut him off with a cold glare. Wyatt stared angrily at the floor, rage boiling insid of him, "I can't help it."

"You're a coward. You use my powers to make yourself feel better. That's about the only thing you used it for. Death and Time Magic are both meant for fighting. It's not used to make some crying little boy feel brave."

"Shut up, Masterson," Wyatt yelled.

"You can't deny the truth, Wyatt," Thane stated coldly, turning his back to Wyatt. "I'm not here to argue. I just came here to tell you that you need to find some courage."

Thane was walking towards the entrance of the trailer. "Get some sleep," he said gruffly, "I'm keeping watch."

As Thane was about to leave, he suddenly stopped. "Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. You are the killer of many now, a wanted fugitive. I'd suggest you keep your identity hidden." Thane tossed Wyatt a helmet, before closing the door behind him.

Wyatt caught the helmet and studied it. It was similar to a motorcyle helmet, just fancier. It was completely black, made of a solid, yet flexible metal. There was a visor in front that had a grey tint to it. Wyatt realized that it was diamond.

He peered at the bottom of the helmet. He understood that the hole at the bottom was supposed to be around his neck, yet...how would it fit his head? Wyatt sat on the bed, annoyed. He'd never been the major fan of figuring out how technology worked.

Wyatt brushed his fingertips over the diamond visor. The helmet reacted, and Wyatt dropped it in surprise. He noticed that the back of the helmet had retracted, leaving it easy to put on his face. Tentatively, Wyatt picked it back up, putting the front of the helmet on his face. The back slid back into place.

He was shocked at the clearness of everything he saw. The lopsided eyesight he'd had before was now crystal clear in both eyes.

Wyatt grinned. How was he going to sleep, knowing that Thane had given him a sweet gift he couldn't wait to try out? He put on the spare clothes Thane had given him, a black shirt, black pants, and combat boots, before slipping on the now clean jacket he'd worn for a while. Wyatt leapt out of bed and almost skipped out the door.

Thane gave him a collected glance. "You're not going to sleep?"

"How can I? This is the best thing I've received, other than the free death pass from Dagger."

Wyatt noted the faint upwards curve on Thane's lips. "You should probably call yourself something different, too."

"I'm not very creative with names," Wyatt admitted.

Thane stood up. "Call yourself Thirteen. That should be easily remembered." With that, he faded into smoke that trailed into Wyatt's open mouth.

"Well, shall we go?" Thane asked in Wyatt's mind.

Wyatt noted the top of a water tower in the distance. "I'm going there."

"Good choice."

Wyatt took off, walking into the village.

When he arrived, he was met up with a pleasant surprise. A dozen armed guards were blocking the entrance to the village, their muscles practically rippling.

"I'm not helping you this time."

"Sit back and watch, my dear Patron."

"Hey!" One of the guards yelled. "Who are you?"

Wyatt walked closer. He stopped five feet away from them. Immediately, the guards growled in unison and charged towards him. One of them swiped his sword across Wyatt's chest. Despite the curses he held on his tongue, Wyatt grinned at them.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, quoting Ben Drowned.

Wyatt swept his arms outwards. "Death Magic," he commanded, "Vacuum."

The guards screamed as their souls were sucked out from their bodies, transporting immediately to the Afterlife. The only thing left of them were their empty shells of their bodies.

Wyatt showed no remorse as he stepped over their bodies, climbing the water tower. His lungs burned with the effort and Wyatt wheezed. "I have to work out sooner or later," he panted.

Wyatt pulled himself to the top. He studied the tall structure before walking up to it. Wyatt pulled his fist back, willing his Magic to turn into strength. Immediately, he saw wisps of black Magic escaping from his clenched hand.

He punched right through the metal and pulled his fist back, taking a chunk of metal with him. Water began to flow out, followed by a rumble within the structure. It exploded, sending clear water in every direction, flooding everything in sight. Wyatt held onto the ladder right below the water tower and laughed. As soon as the water stopped pouring from the building, a crowd gathered at the base of the building he was on.

"You up there! Who the hell are you?" someone yelled.

Wyatt couldn't help but smile under his mask. "Me? My first name is Thirteen. I do not have a middle name, nor do I have a last name."

"Don't give me that bullcrap!" the person barked harshly.

"Goodbye, then." Wyatt thrust his hand forward. "Death Magic. Arrow!" a wisp of Magic escaped his fingertips like a gun, before launching into the person's chest in a milisecond. The man disappeared into ash.

"Griffin Lighting!" Wyatt bellowed. "I know you're down there. If you have any guts at all, come up here and meet me!"

All eyes tore away from Wyatt and traveled to the back of the crowd, where Griffin stood, scowling. "Well, Griffin? I'm expecting your company."

Griffin walked slowly towards the tower and began climbing the ladder. "Who are you?"

Wyatt chuckled and slipped off the mask. "You think I, the master of death, would die so easily?"

Griffin looked shocked for a minute before he glowered at Wyatt. "You cheater. Should've died a long time ago."

Wyatt's smile dropped too. "You deserve what's coming to you."

Wyatt leapt forward. In a flash, he had Griffin in a chokehold. "I'm going to kill you."

"Prove it," Griffin choked, "Kill me for real."

"Mistake number one." Wyatt closed his eyes. "Time Magic," he commanded, "Fast Forward."

The building under them began to fall. Wyatt let go. Griffin slumped down, trying to catch his breath on his knees. Wyatt was about to escape from the wreck when a strong grip pulled him back. Griffin coughed. He smiled a demon's smile. "You're coming down with me."

"Let me go, idiot!" Wyatt threw a punch. Griffin staggered back and laughed.

"I won't die until you do, Wyatt Clark! Even if I die, my soul will find a way back from the Afterlife and I'll haunt you until you die!" Griffin launched forward once more and tackled Wyatt. They wrestled, while the roof collapsed around them.

"Let go! You're going to get yourself killed!" Wyatt shouted.

"Who cares? As long as you're dead and I've completed my mission for Royce, I don't care! Royce promised me a new world, where I can finally live without having to suffer any secrets! I can finally live without the fear of my father!"

"You crazy ass idiot!" Wyatt drew back his fist and pummeled Griffin once more. "If you die, then there won't be a new world you can see!"

"Look who's talking!"

"Screw you!"

"You wish, dirt face!" Griffin suddenly lurched backwards, tipping himself...and Wyatt...over the edge of the building. Wyatt didn't have time to react and pull himself to safety before he was falling, with a crazy psychotic eighteen year old punching his jaw every other second.

Wyatt panicked. He screamed out, "Slow Down!" Instantly, the time around only Wyatt slowed. He watched as Griffin fell, full speed, before crashing onto the floor.

Wyatt drifted gracefully like a feather. "Death Magic. Drown." The black water he was immune to formed around him in a bubble of watery air, and Wyatt released his slow spell as the protective water bubble crashed onto the floor. Wyatt tucked himself into a roll and came up on his feet, soaked but safe.

"Hmm, impressive," Thane murmured.

Wyatt grinned before feeling something lurch in his heart. He cried out in pain and shock. Was that what a heart attack felt like? Wyatt wheezed out painfully.

The Magic began to seep out from Wyatt's mouth.

He fell to the floor, out cold.

*****

Griffin Lighting

Griffin felt someone gently shake him and he moaned in pain. Blood pounded in his head. His mouth tasted of sawdust. He couldn't feel his left leg. Amanda was standing over him, looking at him with pity. "I already know the outcome of the battle. Royce is going to kill you."

"Shut it," Griffin growled.

She smirked and handed him a pair of crutches. He looked down and saw his left leg, which had swelled to the size of a watermelon and was turning purple.

"Let's go. You know how Royce has no patience. Let's not make him angrier."

They got to the place in about thirty minutes. Royce was standing at the doorway, motionless. "One more chance, Lighting. After that, you're dead to me."

Griffin hung his head. "Yes. I'm sorry."

He opened the door and pushed past Sophie, who stared at him with her good eye, making him cringe at the eyepatch.

"Well, well, well," someone snickered, "there's the loser that lost." Mike Best stood in the hallway, blocking out the sunlgiht with his muscular body and choking Griffin with his cologne. He felt like he was getting gased. "I could've done better, you know."

"Keep talking, Best. We all know you spend the majority of your time on your bedhead and flirting with the girls here."

Mike growled and grabbed Griffin by the front of his shirt. "You better watch your tongue around me, Lighting," he hissed.

Griffin laughed and slipped out of Mike's grasp. Despite his crippled leg, he could still move fairly well. "What was it that happened? We all saw you blanch when Royce found out you couldn't slay one measly peer of yours. What was his name? I disguised as him...oh, yeah, it was Jackson Smith!" he snapped his fingers in mock realization.

Mike's gaze could've killed. Griffin shook his head. "You're too much of a disappointment, Mike."

He hobbled away. As Griffin walked, his hand went up to the earring dangling from his ear. Strange. It was his father's symbol...yet he couldn't throw it away. Griffin took a deep breath before stumbling on his bad leg. A string of expletives escaped his mouth.

"Woah, there, Lighting, we've got seven year old little girls hanging around here, and a lady who'll gasp if you told her to shut up. Keep the swearing down to a minimum. "

Griffin glanced up, finding Chase tripping down the corridors. The boy's face was covered in sweat, a wine glass in his hand.

"Did the girl approve of you doing underage drinking, too?" Griffin crossed his arms.

"Point taken. I heard you fought my brother," he mumbled.

"I lost."

"That's good."

"You're drunk."

"No shoot, Sherlock."

Griffin snapped his fingers in Chase's face. "Are you even aware of what you're doing?"

"For the most part. The only part that I didn't have control of was when I kissed Cassie," Chase sighed before leaning against the wall.

"Hey, Lighting! I'm not done with whooping your butt yet," Mike yelled, running towards him.

Griffin spun around, to find a knife coming for his face. He ducked, the knife cropping his hair by a few inches. As Griffin ducked, however, his bad leg buckled and he fell, onto his face. He cried out unintentionally.

"Ah, it's great to hear the tough murderer Griffin scream," Mike grinned evilly. He kicked Griffin's bad leg. Griffin's hands dug into the cement floor in pain.

A feeling washed over Griffin. He hadn't experienced this feeling...since the Lighting Manor Incident. He wanted to kill someone. The bloodthirst he'd abandoned long ago was back, and back for revenge.

Griffin stood up slowly, wincing at the pain. He grinned. Mike stepped back, intimidated.

Griffin leapt forward, ignoring the screaming protests of his leg. He drew out his knife and left a cut on Mike, a deep one. Blood gushed from the wound. Mike screamed like a banshee.

He bent low to whisper in Mike's ear, "Next time you mess with me, Best, remember who I used to be. Remember what happened at the Lighting Manor Incident and know that I can take your life at any minute, any second of the day if I feel like it."

Griffin stood up and walked away, leaving a drunk, a wounded victim, and the intent to kill behind him as he disappeared into the dark hallways.