Damien woke to the chirping of birds. He stretched and wiped his eyes sleepily. The sky was showing the first signs of daylight, indicating that it was early morning.

Damien picked himself up. He squinted towards the mountain he was supposed to be chasing after. It didn't seem to be getting any closer, if his eyesight was to be trusted. He sighed tiredly and continued his questionable journey.

He passed through thickets of blackberries and climbed over small hills. He walked through a field of tall grass before breaking through and coming upon a worn dirt path.

"It's a road." Damien muttered. Of the shattered fragments of memories he had, this was undoubtedly one of the most intact.

"Where are the people?" In his memory, roads were for transportation in big wooden boxes people called "carts", and usually the roads would be filled constantly with passing merchant caravans. But the road was deserted now. It had been awhile since this road had seen any maintenance.

Damien looked up and down the roads, then back at the distant mountain top.

The quest could wait. Roads led to cities, and cities meant people.

Excitement flooded Damien as his legs filled with Herculean strength.

Kicking up a storm of dust, Damien became a blur.

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Two guards sat huddled around a small fire outside the city walls in the dark.

"Fucking hell." A guard cursed bitterly as he warmed his hands on the fire. "They docked my pay again. Said it was a lack of city funds this time."

The younger guard looked at him in amazement. "You mean you didn't hear about what happened in Hoshi?"

The first guard responded with a confused scowl. "What? What does that place have anything to do with my pay?"

"Are you living under a rock, Ted? The whole blasted city was destroyed!" The exclaiming guardsman looked around cautiously before continuing in a hushed whisper. "...by demons."

Ted's eyes grew wide. "Bloody hell, Paul! Don't say anymore before you curse the both of us." Ted glared at paul. "You know what they say."

Another voice chimed in. "What do they say?"

Ted and Paul simultaneously looked in the direction of the offending presence.

The campfire reflected a pair of vermillion eyes.

Both guards screamed in terror.

""Demon!""

The pair of eyes walked out of the shadows, revealing a short man with unkempt, snow white hair, a dirty white t-shirt, and tattered jeans.

"Fuck," Ted cursed, holding his hand on his heart. "you scared the shit out of me, young man."

"We thought you were a de-" Paul coughed akwardly at Ted's glare. "What I mean to say, is that we thought you were a monster."

Ted stood up, his face serious. "Anyways, forget all that. State your name and business."

"My name is Damien. I'm here because there's people here."

Ted looked at Damien with an increasingly suspicious glare. "Paul, hand me the scroll."

Paul dug around in his pockets for a second before handing over an aged parchment. Ted tore up the scroll, violet arcanic symbols filling his eyes.

Damien (Human)

It was slightly strange that he didn't have a last name, but so far he didn't seem to be lying. Ted relaxed a little.

Damien scratched his chin. "I'm kind of thirsty. Can I pass?"

"Yeah, whatever. Go ahead, stranger." Ted said with disinterest. "Welcome to Carnation."

"Thank you." Damien bowed and walked past the two guardsmen.

Ted's eyes followed the white haired stranger as he entered the city.

After the strange man was out of sight Ted spoke up. "That man has an ominous name."

Paul's eyes grew wide. "Then why didn't you stop him?"

Ted laughed. "There's no way that man is that monster."

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Damien strolled along the city streets at night. Torches lit up the cobble road and buildings made of stone and wood.

Save a few denizens of the night and the night patrol, the city slept.

When Damien turned into a back alley, the only light came from an open establishment filled with racous laughter and loud swearing. Golden light spilled out into the alleyway, where a few people were chatting and smoking tabacco cheerfully.

Entering the building, Damien's senses were assaulted by loud drunks and the smell of alcohol and piss.

Damien's nose curled in displeasure as he entered the bar.

The environment was so unpleasant to Damien he almost turned around on the spot, until he noticed food being served by scantily clad women.

His eyes locked onto a bowl of stew and his belly rumbled. Running full speed for a day really worked up an appetite. He noticed another important detail. All around, from gamblers rolling dice in the corner, to people being served food, everyone was exchanging these metal disks.

Money! Damien remembered. You needed money to buy food. His hand reached towards his jean pockets-

Just then somebody bumped into Damien. "Get out of the way! What are you doing standing in the doorway!"

Damien's hand became a blur. "Sorry, sir." Damien apologized to the disgruntled man with a slight bow, smiling to himself slyly.

The baldy with a scar on his forehead snorted disdainfully and walked away, not even sparing Damien a glance.

Damien approached a barmaid and asked a question. "Excuse me, how much is a bowl of that-?" He pointed towards a customer eating a steaming bowl of stew.

The barmaid scrutinized his ratty appearance with a skeptical look. "It's five coppers for stew, two for a loaf of bread, ten for a room, and five silvers for company."

"Do you have any water?" Damien asked eagerly.

"Water is free for paying customers." The barmaid stated bluntly.

"So I can have water if I have this?" Damien flourished the coin purse he had filched from the rude bald man and dumped its contents into his open palm.

The barmaid's attitude changed immediately, her eyes were glued to the pile of silvers in his hand. "Of course sir, one bowl of stew and a water." She fluttered her eyelashes and flipped her hair suggestively. "And is there anything else you would like sir?"

Damien brought a finger to his lips thoughtfully. "Also I'd like a room too, please."

"Will you be needing any company with that room, sir?" The barmaid asked with shining eyes.

"Company?" Damien asked. "Like someone to talk to?"

"That's one way to put it."

"Then yes. Can I have someone nice to talk to? I've been extremely lonely."

The barmaid winked at him. "I know exactly what you mean, sir."

After attending to Damien, the barmaid approached one of her girls. "You're up, Shelley." She nodded towards the poorly groomed man with white hair eagerly gulping down his bowl of stew.

***

Damien was let into his room by a shy, delicate young woman.

He looked around the room with a perplexed expression. "Where's the bed?"

Shelley flushed red in embarrasment. "S-sorry, sir. There is no bed. This is where we sleep." Saying that she walked over to a pile of straw with a shabby blanket and sat down, looking akward.

Sighing despondently, Damien sat down and leaned against the wall. "You know I haven't- why are you taking off your clothes?"

Shelley froze in the middle of taking off her top. "Am I not to your liking, sir?"

Damien tilted his head quizzically "What? I just find it strange that you're taking off your clothes."

Shelley stared at the man dumbly.

"Anyways, as I was saying-"

***

After making small talk for awhile, Damien yawned contentedly, turned over and fell asleep.

Shelley looked at the dirty man sleeping peacefully. Her face flushed red, slightly miffed at being rejected, despite not wanting to have sex with him.

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Damien turned the page and took a drag on his cigarette before letting out a cloud of smoke.

*Cough* *cough* "Dude, stop blowing that shit in my face!"

The distracted youth apologized absentmindedly without taking his eyes off of the page. "Sorry, Dylan. Here just take this, I'm done."

Dylan accepted the cigarette with a frown and took a puff. "I know I keep harping you on this, but why do you keep smoking? It's gotta be hell on your lungs after what you went through."

The sound of a bell ringing could be heard from below the floor of the school roof.

Damien closed The Illiad, stood up and slung his backpack over one shoulder after stowing away his book. "C'mon, we're going to be late."

Dylan flicked away the cigarette, picked up his own backpack and did a short jog to catch up with his aloof friend. "Ugh, I have civics next." Dylan complained.

Damien smiled. "What's wrong with civics? I much prefer it over algebra any day."

Dylan scrunched up his face. "But it's taught by mister Smith. I swear the old man has it out for me."

Damien lifted up the tile, revealing the secret entrance leading down into the school. "I don't know what you mean. I am a model student."

Dylan chuckled. "Whatever you say, loser."

They both sprayed themselves with cheap calogne to mask the smell of cigarettes.

The delinquent students climbed down into the school janitor's closet. When Damien climbed down, he put the tile back into place.

Dylan cracked the door, then stuck his head out to check for witnesses. After making sure it was all clear, Dylan and Damien parted ways and headed to their respective classes.

***

After school students scattered out of the school in all directions like cockroaches.

Dylan approached Damien on his way out. "Hey man, you wanna go check out a garage sale? I found an ad on Craigslist. I'm getting a really good feeling about this one."

Damien perked up visibly. "Yeah, what are you waiting for? Lead the way."

Dylan chuckled. "Alright, but anything Superman I get dibs, though."

"Keep your Super-garbage, but don't touch my Batman comics." Damien retorted as they walked.

"Okay, okay." Dylan put his hands behind his head. "Just don't insult Superman like that. He's my hero." Dylan paused thoughtfully. "You collect Batman comics, but why is he your hero?"

"I wouldn't say that. If I had to pick a hero, it would probably be Achilles."

"Achilles? Why's that?"

"He's an invincible warrior who's only weak point is his ankle. It's poetic."

"Pfft. That's just like Superman except he can't fly and shoot lasers out of his eyes. Achilles is a lame knockoff, with an awful weakness."

"..."

When they arrived at the garage sale Damien whistled in appreciation. "You weren't kidding man."

"I told you, when will you stop questioning my spidey-sense? I can smell an original Superman a mile away. And this, my friend, is a gold mine."

The two boys went home that day, each having something new to add to their growing comic book collections.

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When Damien recalled his strangely vivid dream the next morning, he realized he was not originally from this world.