"Forgive this you greedy little pigs!" Zack roared.

He leaned back and slammed the Molotov down in front of the two men.

The bottled exploded as it crashed to the ground, flares of orange and red consumed the area and the two men. It was like a bomb had gone off. I wanted to run in and help, but I was paralyzed. I couldn't force myself to move. It was like I was hypnotized by the flames. Then something I can't explain happened.

I saw an angel-like figure standing in the flames. The angel flapped its wings and the silhouettes of the two gang members suddenly vanished, with the angel. I was at a loss for words. I thought I was going crazy.

"Zack did you s-"

"Yeah I did," Zack replied instantly.

We both stared wide-eyed into the flames. Watching as the eruption of fire dwindled at an unnatural rate. The flames that had engulfed the alleyway were soon gone. Leaving no trace of the fire.

"No, it can't be. The fire...it's...it's gone!" Zack stammered out.

He quickly ran back into the alleyway. Running his hands over the brick walls that had been engulfed by that unholy fire. Not a thing was out of place. Nothing was burned, no ashes, just a normal dirty alleyway.

"It's cold," Zack muttered.

I wanted to believe I was hallucinating. But Zack’s reaction, that was proof enough I wasn’t. We both definitely saw it.

My thoughts were interrupted as an intense stinging pain shot through my arm. The knife wound, it cut deeper than I thought. As I focused on the pain, I could feel the blood flowing down my arm. I moved my hand up to the wound and tried to add pressure. But I couldn’t relieve any pain. I grunted a bit and walked over to Zack. The pain reminded me.

"Hey, are you're alright?" I asked.

I looked him over a bit, seeing how bad his cut’s and bruises were.

"Yeah, I just got a few bruises," he replied soullessly.

He seemed lost, like he had seen a ghost or something. But then again we just might have.

Surprisingly enough, no one saw us fighting or the fire, so it was easy leaving the area (another odd occurrence.) We walked back to my house to get patched up, not speaking a word to each other. When we arrived to my place, I could barely steady my hand enough to put the key in the lock.

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Zack walked into the kitchen and sat down at our small kitchen table, taking a load off. I walked to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. When I came back in, I began to clean up some of Zack's wounds. I could tell he was getting a black eye, and his lip was busted open. Plus a bunch of minor bumps and bruises.

"Woah, Woah dude, your cut looks pretty bad! Fix yourself first." I ignored his comment and kept patching him up.

"Don't worry about me; you know how I am," I replied.

Zack sighed and let me finish fixing him up.

"My hero," Zack said sarcastically.

After I finished with him, I fixed myself up. Like Zack, I had bruises and red bumps all over my face. I was sure my cut needed stitches though, but I patched it up the best I could for the meantime.

I walked over to Zack and sat down across from him.

"So let's talk about what's been happening," I blurted out.

"What's there to talk about? I'm sure you know just as much as me," he shot back with obvious agitation.

"Well, after what just happened, I don't think it's a coincidence anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"Think, who else suddenly vanished out of nowhere on us?"

"Every girl you come in contact with," he snickered some with that comment.

"No, you idiot! The old man, remember?"

"Oooh right, the old geezer. I thought he just had the munchies.

"Even if he did, it doesn't add up. Unless he was Houdini."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. He just so happens to be in the same alleyway the gang just jumped us at? and vanished? It was a dead-end area, and he vanished as soon as we turned our backs, with no trace. Did you ever stop to think how odd and random it was for him to have only two masks and for them to be in perfect condition? He also seemed really poor and frail. I'm sure we would have seen him begging before too."

"You have a point, I guess. But what does it mean?"

I leaned back in my chair and moved my thumb to my mouth, nibbling on my thumbed nail and tried to think.

"Zack, yesterday do you recall any odd voices?"

"Now that you mention it." He sat back and gripped his chin with his fingers. "When I went home, I kept hearing these voices saying you will be our sorcerer," he mimicked the words like he was telling ghost stories around a campfire. "I thought it was the TV, or some druggy outside."

I began to tell him about the voices I heard yesterday, and back at the old man's stand. He looked shocked when I finished.

"So Sir Stryder the knight. What a fitting title for you. But anyway, what's your verdict on all this?"

"Well, in every way I look at it, I think something wants to use us for something. The titles I can't figure out. Maybe it's something with our personalities? I don't know."

It was silent for a minute. My mind raced with ideas and possibilities. The knight and the sorcerer, but why? Why the fire. Why the masks? and why save the thugs? Then something else hit me.

"Zack, what the heck were you thinking!"

Zack jumped some in his seat. "What, what?" he spazzed.

"You brought a Molotov! We could have been killed if that went bad!"

"Well, you always told me to start thinking ahead, so I did," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Not like that!"

"Well, I thought since you're a ninja or whatever, you could handle it, but all I saw was you getting your ass kicked."

"Don't turn this around on me! And watch your language!"

"I thought you said you did martial arts for thirteen years; why the hell did you lose so bad."

"Shut the hell up. I'm rusty, okay! I can still kick your butt any day!"

"Ha! I got you to say hell," Zack snickered.

I didn't respond. I was going to kill this boy.