The mansion loomed ominously above the four thieves that crouched next to its walls, their breath coming out as puffs of vapor in the cold hours of night. Fortunately for them, the hired burglars had only encountered one guard that night, and his corpse was now in a bag that sat rather conspicuously off to the side. As the light of a passing watchman faded from a window about two stories above them, one of the thieves moved quickly, tossing a rope with a hook tied to the end up onto the windowsill, acting as a sort of grappling hook. She motioned the others to follow as she began climbing. Exactly as planned, they entered the third floor with plenty of time to spare until the next watchman came around. The woman, clearly the leader of the group, pointed toward a door a few meters down the hallway, and they moved silently toward it. One of the men produced a lock pick, and in a few minutes, the door was open.

Inside was a room that had clearly not been used for some time. It was cubical, with bare walls and a nondescript wooden flooring. The only source of light was the moonlight streaming in from outside, and even that wasn’t much. The woman produced a flashlight, and switched it on. Security would be coming around in few minutes, so their time was short. She motioned with her free hand toward a large box in the middle of the room. It appeared to be the only furnishing there, and it was pretty poor. The box appeared to be made of wood, and was about 6 feet or so long. The thieves had been told that it held something important, and that they were to steal it. Pending their success, they would be paid handsomely for the contents of the container.

One of the men removed a crowbar from his backpack, and inserted it under the lid of the box, lifting it up then shoving it to the side. As he did so, a cloud of dust rose up from the interior, causing him to blink and cough vigorously…

And found that he was lying in the box.

“When the hell did you get in there?” The woman hissed, half-angry, half-confused. None of them had seen when he had gotten into the box…

“I don’t know…” the man replied, moving to get out of the box. In the next instant, a figure appeared between the three burglars standing there and the box.

“Ah… it’s been so long since I’ve had visitors.” The newcomer was obviously male, and his voice was deep and rich. It wasn’t the kind of voice a doting uncle would have, however. The thieves were filled with fear when they heard him. How had he known they were there? When had he entered the room? Most of all, who was he?

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There was a sharp scream from the one in the box as some kind of invisible force began pressing down on him, as if he had been placed under a large printing press and some devious sadist was sqeezing him with it.

“Help me! I’m going t-” was all he had time to say before the force suddenly increased, crushing his body and killing him, splattering his insides over the interior of the box.

“Little thieves… I must thank you for awakening me. Your presence has renewed my power. I give you the gift…” The man vanished, and appeared behind the remaining three, lifting the woman up by her neck.

“… of death.” He squeezed, and crushed his victim’s throat and lower brainstem, killing her instantly. The other two men were already running out into the hallway, attempting to get to the window that would be their escape.

One of them, a shorter, stouter fellow, made the mistake of looking behind him. There, only a few inches from his face, was the man who had just killed his comrades. Out in the hallway, the moonlight illuminated his face slightly, revealing a tall man with pitch-black hair streaked with white, as if he were on the verge of aging. However, his face was young, like one who had just reached his mid-twenties. The stout burglar didn’t have time to consider what this meant, however, as a force blasted him from the side, crushing his ribcage and knocking his skull against a wall, breaking it. If he didn’t die immediately from that, the sheer trauma and blood loss soon would.

The last thief had just made it to the window when he felt a pain in his stomach.

“You almost made it too…” In his pain, the young thief heard the melodically deep voice floating to his ears, as he looked up and saw that the mysterious man was now (somehow) standing right in front of him. Then, he looked down, at his abdomen.

His last thoughts were those of confusion. When had those knives gotten there?

***

The pitiful thieves thus dispatched, the man gazed out of the window, at the crescent moon glowing in the sky above.

“I’m back…”