The file that Old Gray, the harbormaster had given Damon contained maps of each incident and personal letters from the Captain to the families of the deceased. This was a separate envelope that was sealed and stamped by the Captain with a small note attached to it reading; 'To whom it may concern, DO NOT OPEN until at sea. Signed Captain Raz'ir J. Quartermane. Damon scratched his head, closed up the folder and approached Port 8. The Shadow's Crossing was a large vessel. The size of an Admiral Class Galleon. Suffice to say for all the incidents that were recorded on the ship, She was in relatively good shape. Faded and beaten it was an antique amongst all the ships in the harbor. Damon stepped onto the gangplank that led to the deck of the ship.

When Damon reached the top, he took a look around seeing as no one was at the dock or on deck of the ship. The masts were visible from the Captain's Chair. Damon noticed there were no sails attached to them. Each mast was fully intact yet it struck Damon strangely, any savvy sea dog could tell. These were strange times so Damon shrugged it off for the time being. After inspecting the helm and wiggling the wheel. Damon rounded the other side and headed to the stern of the ship. Gazing over the harbor it was still early in the morning. The sun had just finished rising, showing a golden halo shrouded in clouds and morning dew. As Damon was mesmerized, someone tapped him on the shoulder, which made Damon turn around rather quickly, ready to defend himself from the surprise.

"Woah, laddie, if 'ye have reason to be here you better watch who yer' fisty' cuffin' with." The older gentleman had an accent that was common amongst sailors.

"My apologies," Damon replied, relaxing his stance, "Are you a Crewmember of The Shadow's Crossing?" Damon replied, pulling out the paperwork from the Harbormaster, and handing it off with one hand.

"Let's take a lil' peek shall we," the older sailor replied without hesitation,.

Leaving Damon to believe he must have been the Second Mate, with no inclination to prove otherwise. After a few moments of the man filing the ship roster and the bundle of documents that came with Damon's application for crewmembership. The man finally spoke, "So yer' lookin' for work eh?" The older sailor answered. "Tell me, Mr. Peters what keeps 'ye from kickin' the bucket, n' havin' a one-way ticket to Davey Jones, himself?"

"Well that is a profound question to ask a new recruit," Damon went on to say, "I'd say my main reason would be findin' mi'lady again..." Damon trailed off.

"Very good, keep yer' mi'lady at the forefront of yer' ship while weatherin' the storms." The older sailor went on to say, "The name's Raz'ir, Raz'ir Quartermane, I be the Cap'n o' this faire vessel."

Damon was a bit surprised to meet the Captain so soon, most traditional harbors that he worked at, had more stricter ranking and the Captain would only show up on first light when he is to sail. "Very good sir, I am here to request apprenticeship upon your faire vessel." Damon replied in an official like manner.

"Most new recruits 'er more weary of The Shadow's Crossing, matey; 'ye sure workin' this fine vessel is what yer' after?" Raz'ir answered in a more serious tone. "Ye' seen me papers n' her haunted souls that had their lives claimed on this very ship?"

After a moments pause, Damon spoke up with a sincere reply, "My life is haunted with spirits of my own, this relic of the past seems to call to me." Damon answered with a very firm tone as if he was there before.

"Good 'nuff, Mr. Peters 'ye look like a seafaring fellow." The Captain commented on Damon's stature, "I'll start 'ye as First Deckhand and get ya prepped to learn some scoutin'." Captain Raz'ir was ready to put Damon to work immediately.

"Very good, Captain. Shall we head below deck and have a tour of sorts?" Damon asked in a curious manner, hoping to find a whole cabin, possibly to himself, with the size of the ship, and the shortage of crew, things were looking pretty positive for Damon.

"Yes, very good Sailor Peters, let's get 'ye introduced to the rest of the crew." Raz'ir answered, guiding Damon by the back as they walked down the upper deck stairs and into the depths of the ship.

As they rounded the end of the steps, Damon could hear chatter coming from the other end of the lower deck. "Seems t'be lively in here today!" The Captain addressed the crew in the cafeteria and turned toward the Galley's port for servicing the cafeteria.

"Top o' the mornin' t'ya Cap'!" Buzz addressed Raz'ir as he approached the galley. "The usual Cap?"

"Ye know me well, Buzz, chef's specialty Captain's breakfast." Raz'ir nodded and took his seat at the head of the cafeteria. Buzz went to work turning up the coal-fired grill and headed to work in the galley. Not long after everyone on the crew's roster entered the cafeteria one after the other.

"Quinn, Maurice, Sybil meet the new deckhand Damon Peters." Raz'ir announced their names as they entered the cafeteria. "Maurice, after breakfast 'ye be showin' Peters some scoutin' and Sybil 'ye know yer' duties when we disembark, correct?"

"Aye, aye Captain." All three, Quinn, Maurice and Sybil acknowledged the Captain's orders without hesitation, even though they all seemed groggy in their response. All crewmembers lined up to place their orders for breakfast.

-~-

There is one particular incident that would make Raz'ir and the Shadow's Crossing, stick out in Damon's mind; many years ago in a distant land. The year was hard to remember since the beginning of the face wars; in these days it hardly mattered... People were haunted by thoughts that were uncontrollable, at least that is what they thought... many would end up wandering the cities for days almost as if nothing had changed from their daily lives but there was one small factor that made them remember one crucial thing, fear... Damon was one of the last to be infected, as the term was coined by modern doctors at the time this all began. People would go see doctors for pain in the back of the neck. There was no physical damage in these cases so doctors would write several prescriptions a day since they too were suffering from the same ailment. What was really wrong with these people? This would not become obvious until months after the first signs would appear. Some would call it a parasite that would take shapes in their dreams, but the worst cases say that the shape was always near them, or close by. The Germans called it "Der GroBman" or Slender Man in English. To the Japanese they called this form of a parasite "Kuro Kiseichū," Black Parasite in English. Damon called it, simply, fear...

One of the most famous cases was when a diplomat from Agartha went to visit a series of countries at the world summit called "The G8/G20" he would never show up for meetings with other world figures and when he did he declared war on all of them; the problem with this case is that his fellow Agarthan's representatives could not make sense of what he was doing. As these meetings progressed he became more and more distant to a point where he would physically look weak and sick. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was always antsy always biting his nails, sometimes to the point of bleeding; or fidgeting to the point that others would give him unsettling looks. Then what set this whole summit in to a spiraling downfall was when the diplomat stood up started throwing papers everywhere, taking pens and pencils and stabbing people close by him and then he turned one of them on himself. He stabbed himself in the neck in such a way that blood would squirt out hitting the injured individuals near him. His dying words were simply... "All mighty Cube, formless and dark, the infection has begun..."

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Those that were injured at the summit and had blood spatters on them were the next to go insane, but this time it was short lived due to the nature of being injured and having a completely infected man's blood on them. This is where it started... it became known as another fluid-transmitted infection but it was short lived as individuals that were completely isolated from cases that were obvious would begin to have symptoms. Very few people remained after the war, but this is just the beginning of what happened... Damon was a survivor of the Black Parasite, The Face Wars, since it began...

In Damon's mind it appeared like what the late cases would describe they seen in their dreams; a black cube hollowed out and the black streams of light would shoot out from the corners giving it a lively look to it. When you are able to have a waking dream it notices you; and a sharp humming sound would resonate from the cube. The fear was apparent but a person with more self esteem, and have had a few waking dreams can overcome this infection. Damon found the origin of this "Der GroBman" or "Kuro Kiseichū". The Slender man or Black parasite was an entity from a realm within imagination. It was pulled from a parallel existence; it had a spiritual name called "Dark Kai". It also had some origin in space, from extra terrestrial beings that traveled with the usage of phase-shifting technology; something humanity could never comprehend a few decades ago...

-~-

It was not long after Damon's thoughts had collected and energized from the breakfast everyone was off to start their duties. Maurice was running down the basics with Damon, as Sybil began all the rope rigging and disembarking procedures. Quinn and Raz'ir were at the helm discussing the daily jobs.

"There is a delivery for Marc at the Red Pearl Casino, and there seems to be a pickup as well there." Quinn said as he read from the work orders that Ol' Grey dropped off earlier that morning.

"Very good, get Maurice and Damon to finished storing the cargo and check in with Grey." Raz'ir ordered Quinn to pass on the work directives. "Once they finish storing the cargo, have Sybil start the engine." Quinn nodded and wrote down the orders, he headed to the other part of the deck where Maurice and Damon were operating the ship crane to load the cargo.

"Oye! Maurice have Damon finish picking up the last bit of cargo from the Docks warehouse we will depart once the last of it is boarded." Quinn kept on to the front of the ship where Sybil had finished untying some rigging. "Sybil, the cap want's ya to warm up the engine when your done there, once Damon gets the last of the cargo, we depart!"

"Aye, aye Quinn, as the cap orders." Sybil replied, finishing with the morning duty, she headed into the ship's engine room, twin turbo Mach-boosters, with the experimental Anti-Matter FTL. Sybil always felt at home in the engine room, being raised in the far reaches of engineering worlds, those who are closest to the Architects and Quicksilver's ground zero.

Damon left the ship crane and Maurice to finish up, taking a docks owned work truck down to the storage warehouse at the opposite end of the wharf. 'This doesn't seem to be a too bad of a job.' Damon thought as the drive took a good 10 minutes to reach the storage warehouses. Taking a peek at the work order that Damon had, he was to pick up the last of the cargo and supplies at warehouse 8-B. He pulled into the parking area of the warehouses, and headed to warehouse 8, bay B. When Damon had lined up the truck with others waiting to pick up their orders, he was the third in line. A sudden sharp ringing sound began to go off inside Damon's mind-space, where the Dark Kai resided.

'I sense many of my brethren's essence... near...' Dark Kai whispered into the mind-space of Damon's.

'Jeez! Dick! could ya pick a different sound to catch my attention!' Damon shouted back in the mind-space.

'Very well... how about a bell ring...' Dark Kai replied in a monotoned sound. 'Have you decided upon a label to name me now?'

'YES! You really are a dick sometimes, but are useful like the old stories of Dick Tracey.' Damon decided, as this would allow him to call upon the Dark Kai when needed. 'So you say the essence of your brethren...'

'...Indeed...' Dick trailed off knowing more than it let on.

'Well, spill the beans, ya good fer nothin' rude cube!'

'...I can take other forms if it pleases you...' Dick answered in its same monotoned way, but Damon sensed a bit of sarcasm in it.

'Looks like you do have a sense of humor Dick... Yes take on any form, an animal, a ghost, something this cube shape is giving me a headache.'

'...Very well...' Dick began to cover the mind-space in darkness, to the point where it seemed that Damon was in a waking-dream. A sudden flash of light blinded the mind-space and condensed into one point. The Dark Kai took on a silvery form of a leopard yet had humanoid qualities. It was female.

'I did not realize you black cubes had gender in your essences...' Damon was astonished and frankly flustered, realizing a female Dark Kai was possessing him.

'We do not distinguish between such things... in your peoples minds we are asexual.' Dick Tracey seemed to enjoy this form, giving it an advantage over Damon, so it thought.

'This is my mind so this way I can distinguish when your people invaded... and give me context knowing the enemy close to you instead of the one you can't see.'

'We are about to load the cargo... anything else you wish to share about this essence of your brethren?'

'...Br weary... It seems the Shadow's Crossing is dealing in another shady smuggling ring...' Tracey replied 'Call me Tracey... I have some dignity...'

'Okay Tracey...' Damon trailed off and ignored her, backing the truck up to the bay.

Damon got out of the truck and entered the receiving area of Bay B. "Anybody there? I'm here to pick up the cargo for the Shadow's Crossing." Damon called out in hope of a reply.

A moment later someone came out from behind a corner dressed in overalls, "Aye this be the place, we just finished packaging the last of the order." the person was below average height and slender, he seemed a bit uneducated in Damon's eyes.

"Good enough, any ETA on when the order will be ready to load?" Damon asked hoping this person understood what an ETA was.

"Eat tea eh? Dunno, but buddy is gone on the forklift to pick it out."

"Okay then..." Damon trailed off a bit irritated with this one. '...this one possesses my brethren's essence...' Tracey whispered to Damon in the mind-space.

"This place is Anark-y..." Damon replied hoping to get a reaction from the little man.

"Yeah, don't worry I didn't steal it from Marc's stash..." the little man let it slip; Damon knew he was on Anark3y drug,

'Dammit Tracey! can't your people keep their hands outta the black market?' Damon answered in the mind-space where she was... she did not reply.

"That's fine, how much is being delivered to..." Damon referenced his work order, "The Red Pearl Casino?"

"Oh there's about 10 more kilos, and here is buddy with your order." the little man replied still oblivious to Damon's interrogations. Buddy took the order right up to Bay B, only stopping for a moment to talk with the little man. "Watch your tongue, Garrett!, Sorry sir! for the delay is that your truck backed up to the receiving bay?" buddy asked in a professional manner.

"Yes, that be the order for the Shadow's Crossing?" Damon asked buddy.

After a moments pause buddy spoke, "I apologize on behalf of my dumb co-worker here sir! Captain Raz'ir will be pleased everything is accounted for."

"Very good, I will pass your regards on to the Captain." Damon handed buddy the form for the cargo, buddy took it gracefully and slapped Garrett on the back of the head, pushing him back into the office. "You can go ahead and load the cargo on your truck, I must teach my co-worker a lesson in manners!" Buddy also disappeared into the office. Without a second thought Damon jumped on the forklift and loaded 10 kilos of Anark3y onto the truck and the rest of the Shadow's Crossing supplies for the trip to the Red Pearl Casino.