Wyatt spat the dirt out of his mouth. His head hurt like an elephant had spent their joyful time walking over his skull.

He groaned at the way his chest ached when he moved. "Ugh."

"That's the same exact sound my girlfriend makes in bed."

Wyatt looked up.

He groaned again. "You're back again to murder me, aren't you?"

Jackson tilted his head in confusion. "I don't remember meeting you up until now. But, now that I think about it...can I still take the offer?"

Wyatt noted the relaxed stance and the way Jackson joked around.

"You're real."

"Duh, yeah, no one could achieve six pack abs like me!"

Wyatt smiled, picking up the mask next to him. He slipped it on. "I met an imposter of you. He said you had Enhancing Magic, but he seemed nervous. I assumed he wasn't you."

"Smart choice. The imposter was correct about my Magic, though. I am, indeed, an Enhancing Magi, but I rarely use it, so it makes me great at blending in with the crowds. You'd be good if you could stick around the same place for around five years without anyone finding out your true identity and you crimes."

Wyatt felt his stomach flip-flop. "Crime?" he asked weakly.

"I'm a criminal, Wyatt. The only reason why I am here is because of my hiding strategies from the police, so I've been able to stick around."

There was an awkward silence. Jackson coughed and cleared his throat. "You're wonder about my crimes, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"I killed my 'parents,'" Jackson admitted, making finger quotations over the word "parents". "Both of them lied and told me I was their biological son, even though I looked like some kid they adopted. I was suspicious after a while, so I did some research. I found out that my real parents had been brutally murdered when I was really young. My so called parents that I'd grown with were the very group that murdered my real parents. They raised me, taught me how to fight, and pretended they loved me. Later on...when I was ten, I killed them and went to death row. I broke out, and I'm still in hiding to this day."

 "That's unexpected," Wyatt said, "you look like a rich kid."

"Well..." a sly grin formed on Jackson's lips. "I might have done some...ah...shoplifting."

"You're a criminal from the inside out, aren't you?"

Jackson shrugged. "You get used to it."

"Insane freak," Wyatt muttered under his breath.

"We're all insane, Wyatt, even just a little bit. Parents are insane about taking care of their children properly. Children are insane. Grandparents are insane, where do you think we got the word 'senile'? We're all just a bit crazy, just some more than others," Jackson spread his hands. "Get my point?"

"I'm going to leave now," Wyatt muttered blandly. "You know, just kind of float away on a cloud and hope I never have to see some faces again."

Jackson waved mockingly. "Seeya. Good luck, bye the way. It's hard to beat the devil."

Wyatt sighed, walking off. He slid on his mask, completely unaware of a shadow that passed by his side. There was a whoosh of air, the faint smell of perfume, and then Jackson's voice shouting, "Look out!" 

His eyes widened before someone shoved him out of the way. Wyatt landed on his back, wincing as the breath was knocked out of him. He growled, looking over before his eyes widened. 

Jackson gritted his teeth as he sat up, an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Blood stained his dirty white shirt a brilliant shade of red. 

"You ass," Wyatt scowled, kneeling down as he pulled the arrow out carefully. Thankfully, the wound wasn't as deep as the arrow made it look. "Why'd you take the arrow? If it'd gone any deeper you'd be a cripple in your right arm for life."

"That was on purpose."

Wyatt groaned. "Not again." He stood up, looking to the source of the voice. "You get really annoying, Crimson. What are you, my personal stalker? You didn't seem that way when we were at school."

She stood up, a faintly amused smirk written on her face. "It's the same with Jackson though. Who'd ever believe that Mr. Player was actually an Enhancing Magi?"

"Touché," Wyatt muttered. 

From the floor next to him, Jackson growled lowly. 

Crimson laughed, rolling her eyes.

Wyatt shrugged. "Anyway. What do you want? You almost crippled a football player."

"I have many things I want, Clark," Crimson casually replied. 

"Drop the smartass act," Wyatt snarled. "You're clearly here for something."

She waved her hand as if to silence him. "To be quite honest, I didn't want to come over. But Royce flashed some puppy eyes and I'm a sucker for those, no matter who they belong to. I'm just here today as an examiner. The person who's gonna kill you isn't me, though I kinda wish it was. I haven't seen blood in two days. It's driving me crazy."

Wyatt shivered slightly. "Then who's killing me?"

Crimson didn't speak. Hell, Wyatt wasn't sure if she was breathing. Finally, she raised her index finger and made a circular motion in the air, gesturing him to turn around. "Look behind you."

Wyatt forced out a nervous laugh. "Like I'll listen to you."

Shaard walked next to Wyatt, his cold nose bumping into his hand. 

"We can do this the hard way if you'd like, Wyatt, but either way, you're probably dying today."

Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut. It was impossible to think straight. 'If I turn around I might be able to run.' He slowly spun around, expecting to find a hunk of a soldier in front of him. 

There was nothing.

He frowned. "I don't see anybody."

"Wow. Apparently your eyes suck more than I thought they did. Look up."

He shifted his gaze into the trees. 

There, hanging upside-down by a branch, was a boy.

Wyatt stared. He rubbed his eyes, closing his gaping mouth. "Well then."

Crimson smirked. "Meet Erik. Erik Killman."

The boy jumped off, doing an impressive back flip before landing squarely on his feet, scrutinizing Wyatt in a manner that reminded him of a cat stalking a bird.

Wyatt choked down a laugh, looking down at the boy. He was barely up to Wyatt's chest in height, and had the innocent face of society's "good kid." He had tousled brown hair, big purple eyes, and wore a black cloak that'd been pinned lazily by a single purple jewel. The boy was wearing a gray tank top, baggy grey pants, black boots, and a pair of gloves. The wind blew, revealing the tan lines along his arms and wrist hidden by the cloak. The most macho thing about him would have been the two earrings in his right ear, if they weren't baby blue and bright yellow. However, the realization of the fact that'd he'd heard of the last name before swept away any comical feelings, leaving him with an ice-cold feeling in his stomach. "Kill...man?" He squeaked. "As in, the most skilled, badass, and angelic assassin in the world? How old is he?"

"Fifteen," Erik drawled, revealing a slight Australian accent. He stretched, shirt riding up to reveal a pale stomach and a small scar across his left hip. "Hey, I wanna find out something."

Wyatt nodded weakly, flinching as Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue-raspberry flavored lollipop, popping it into his mouth. "Go ahead?"

Erik grinned. "How strong is the infamous Thirteen?"

Before Wyatt could answer, the small, four foot nine boy was gone. His eyes widened in horror, body stiffening as he felt the cold edge of a knife against his neck. There was a laugh in his ear. 

"Who is it behind this mask?" Erik asked quietly. "Is he a coward, a warrior, or merely trying to get attention?"

Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat. "Hello? Anyone there?" He mentally whispered to Thane.

"I told you before. I'm not helping unless it's a life threatening situation."

"Oh, so this isn't a life threatening situation, is it?"

"You can beat Killman. True, his skills are way better than what you'd consider average, but you're completely capable of beating him."

"I hate you."

"Of course you do. I'm Thane Masterson, after all."

Wyatt took a deep breath. "Alright, Erik. You really want to see my face?"

Erik smiled innocently. "Of course. Everybody wants to know who destroyed Rusty Village. That place was the most dangerous place on Earth, and you crushed it underneath your conquest to gain power."

Wyatt smirked faintly. "What's so important to you about that town?"

Erik growled. "It was my home. I spent a butt ton of time finding refuge, and I finally did. Then, of course, you come along, and you decide to flood the place."

He kept his breathing even. "Technically, Royce took over first. I just went there because a specific Lite told me to kick ass there."

"I work for Royce. I gave him permission."

"What's your motivation?" Wyatt gritted his teeth. "That man is twisted, insane, and cares only about saving himself. Why do you obsess over that guy?"

Erik grinned. "Oh, don't worry. I don't bow down and kiss his shoes like the others there. I'm just there for my paycheck."

Wyatt laughed forcefully. "Oh, come on. You're so low. The world might end and you're still worried about how much you can make in an hour?"

Erik shrugged. "I'm a fifteen year old kid with a dream. And I need a foundation to start off if I need to get a year's supply of candy. Anyway, are we done here talking about my private life? I'd like to kill you, end this, and then go back to my place."

He growled, stepping back. 

Erik rolled his eyes before moving quickly behind him, kicking Wyatt down. Wyatt grunted, falling onto the floor in agony as he heard his spine make a cringe-worthy crack. 

After the fogginess disappeared from his swimming vision, he could make out the silhouette of a young man, holding a wickedly sharp knife. The look of distaste was in Killman's eyes, as well as the shine of excitement.

Panic flared, red hot inside of him. He opened the visor in his helmet, revealing his eyes. 

Erik recoiled before grinning. "Wow. Red as blood." His hands twitched slightly. "Oh, man, I wanna see your face so bad now."

Wyatt scowled weakly as he threw his hand forward. "Fast Forward." Black wisps of magic escaped his fingertips and landed on the floor. The ground rumbled beneath them, large spiderweb cracks appearing. Dust rose up into the air, providing Wyatt with a cloud to escape in. He coughed before running down the crumbling stone stairs and onto the lower floor. 

"And, may I ask, where do you think you're going, Thirteen? I still haven't killed you."

Wyatt whipped around, stumbling backwards as Erik kicked him in the chest. He stumbled into a wall, part of it crumbling behind him and revealing the starless sky. 

Erik's eyes darted to the cracks that appeared behind him before smirking, rushing forward and punching Wyatt in the gut. Wyatt choked as the wall broke and he fell backwards, fingers desperately grasping the side of the building in an attempt to save himself from a sure death. 

The boy grinned as he walked over. "You know you gave yourself away when you used your magic, right? Only one person currently has Time, and you're it. Royce was being an ass when I asked who Thirteen was and didn't give me a clear answer, but I know now." He grabbed the helmet and yanked it off, tossing it to the side. "You're Wyatt Clark, master of Death. Jeez. You really do look like Thane. I studied him for a semester in school during history. Fascinating conquest."

Wyatt scowled. "Shut up."

Erik ignored him as he drew out the knife, studying his face carefully. "You're missing something. Thane had the scar on his face. The Running X. " His gaze flickered to the blade in his hand. "However, Royce gave you the one down your eye already. Perhaps I should continue what he did?"

He gritted his teeth, swing his hanging arm upward and snatching Erik's wrist, forcing the boy to drop his knife. Wyatt pulled himself up and his hand darted forward, snatching the blade up. 

On the impulse of his mind, he drove the blade wildly at his target.

The knife sank itself into Erik's chest, and everything went silent. 

Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. :3 Feel free to edit it in the comments if I messed up somewhere.