Evening was coming upon the city. The bright blue sky was transitioning into a more subdued yellow-orange color, partially obscured by the clusters of clouds above. The shadows in London’s southern alleys grew more pronounced and elongated, making it easier for the three to sneak around. Zander, Eliot, and Hal had been hunting since the sun came up for the obelisk that the Slayer was guarding.

Not only that, but a plan was already being set in motion. Finding the obelisk wasn’t enough—they also wanted to take out the Slayer. For Hal, justice could never be attained if a rampant serial killer went unpunished. In Zander’s mind, it would be near impossible to safely find, read, and translate the obelisk if the Slayer was still around, so he had to be taken care of. When it comes to how Eliot felt, he was mixed on the situation. Sure, the Tom King was someone who had done unspeakable actions, but killing another human being just didn’t sit right with him. Was he truly any better than his enemies? Such doubts crept into his mind now and again, but they were often put at ease when he was around Zander.

The blonde haired brainiac, Zander, continued to lead the group down yet another compact, darkened alley. He stopped, pausing everyone else’s movements, and scanned the area. His blue eyes looked at every detail within the space, leaving no trace of dust unaccounted for.

“This will do,” he finally whispered.

Hal stepped toward him. “We’re gonna do it here, huh?”

“Yes. There’s no blood splatters and no sign of recent traffic.”

Hal rubbed his chin. “I see. So it seems like he hasn’t been through here.”

“Not yet, at least,” Zander added.

They both looked at each other and nodded. Hal slowly reached for the revolver in his jacket pocket, subtly clicking the hammer back. Zander replayed the plan in his head, quickly going over every small detail. To him, it seemed like minutes went by, but because of the speed his brain processes information, he was silent for only a few seconds. At the same time, both Hal and Zander glanced over at Eliot.

“Now?” Eliot asked.

“Now,” the two of them responded.

Eliot’s mind began to thrum. Unlike most other times, the words inside his head didn’t hurt as much. It wasn’t comfortable, but it didn’t harm him as before. Gone was the burn-like pain from before, replaced with uncomfortable heat, like a sauna. Just as the rage within him swelled to the point of no return, he felt the memory of Zander and him embracing, bringing him back to a controlled reality. There was still anger, but it was no longer blind, there was restraint within it.

Apparating out of Eliot’s body was the gargantuan, wolf-like being known as Berserkir. Its muscular, fur-covered body barely managed to fit within the alley, the bone protrusions on its major joints scraping against the brick walls. Gasoline continued to drip out of its unnaturally large toothy maw, caking the alley floor whenever it walked.

Slowly, the beast prowled forward. Its eyes were burning red and bloodshot, but not as wild as before. Its pupils could now be seen as they darted from one person to the next. Anything but the ground was crushed with each step, no matter how slowly it walked. When it arrived in front of Zander and Hal, covering them completely within its evening shadow, it stopped. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, only acknowledged by the tension in the air.

The behemoth bowed its head down and rubbed it against Zander, which felt strange because they were practically the same size.

“Good boy,” Zander said, scratching it behind its ears. He looked over at Eliot, who was starting to sweat a bit, but had a half-smile on his face. “Are you alright?”

“I-I think so,” Eliot replied. “How much longer do you want me to have him out?”

“Until we can—”

An echoing footstep silenced all conversation. Every one of their eyes snapped back in the direction of the sound. At the other end of the alley was a figure draped in darkness. A silhouette of a man stood still. As he took a single step forward, it felt like he was fifteen steps closer. Every inch he moved toward the group, they all felt they were one step closer to demise.

While he was not able to be fully seen, his mental waves were anything but hidden. They resonated out, filling the entire alley with his presence. It was no mystery who this was. The bouncing waves and the echoing, hollow footsteps were all that the walls responded to, filling the space between with a single thing. There was bloodlust in the air. The Slayer had arrived.

“Run!” Hal yelled, pulling his revolver out, aiming it at the murderer without a single second of hesitation.

As he pulled the trigger, a bullet screamed out of the barrel in the Slayer’s direction. However, with an unnatural grace, the shadowed figure stepped aside, dodging the bullet entirely.

“Shit,” he said, pulling the hammer back again. He fired two more shots, but none reached their mark.

Berserkir lowered itself into an offensive stance and began to growl at the oncoming threat. At the same time, Eliot’s body began to shake and substantially more sweat poured out of him. His breathing grew faster the louder the beast’s anger roared out.

Zander turned, his hair flopping over half of his face, and looked at Eliot. “Disapparate Berserkir, El!” he yelled. “We’re running!”

But the beast wouldn’t disappear. Eliot’s body started to shake even more and his body swayed from side to side. Each second Zander stared at him, he heard another haunting step from the Slayer. He ran up to his lover.

“Eliot, it’s alright,” he said, gently placing his arms around him. “You can be calm.”

Slowly, the howling beast started to become more transparent. Eliot’s shivering anger began to subside. Still, it wasn’t immediate, and that worried Zander. As he looked back at the approaching threat, he saw Hal slowly back up as he reloaded his gun and Tom King get ever-closer to Berserkir.

Crap, he’s about a hundred feet away, Zander thought. We’re almost in his range.

With panicked eyes, he looked back at Eliot and continued to rub his arm. “Come on, El, we gotta go.”

“I…know,” Eliot responded, taking a deep breath. Just then, Berserkir disappeared completely.

The Slayer took a few more steps forward, and reached their hand out. The evening sun shone just right on their face to allow nothing but a single eye and carnivorous smile to peek through the shadows.

“Eliot! RUN!” Zander yelled, grabbing his friend and sprinting in the opposite direction. Hal followed suit.

Just as the group rounded the back corner, they heard a voice reverberate through the alley.

“Oh, that just won’t do,” the voice said. It was Tom’s, but it was higher and more shrill than before. And oddly, it sounded more natural.

Breathing hard. All three of the detective trio ran as fast as their legs could take them. They turned down many pre-planned paths, grabbing the corners as they forcibly switched their momentum 90 degrees. The greys and reds of brick and stone blurred as their eyes began to wetten from the wind.

Eventually, they found themselves at a junction of two alleys that met underneath an old bridge. The bridge looked like one that was used decades ago for smaller trains to pass over, but the state of its decay showed the year of disuse. Long vines wrapped around the top, completely covering the tracks in some areas. Cracks and weathered erosion chipped away at the most exposed sections of the bridge.

The group took a moment to catch their breath. As the air left each of their lungs, it turned into a slight mist upon hitting the chill, moist air. Zander stood straight up with hands over his head, while Eliot sat on the ground. Hal, on the other hand, leaned against a wall and lit up another cigarette. Even while he was breathing fast, he continued to smoke.

“So,” Hal huffed, “why’d we run back here?”

Zander lowered his arms and sighed. “I just wanted to check on something.”

He leaned over and traced his hands along some of the inner wall until it reached a slight protruding set of bricks. To the naked eye, they looked no different than the rest of the crumbling structure, but to Zander, it was exactly what he was looking for. He grasped the bricks and slowly began pulling them out, revealing a small cove in the wall.

Looking inside, the cove was no more than a foot or so wide and equally as tall. There was surprisingly little dust and no cobwebs to be seen. In fact, there didn’t seem to be anything inside. It was completely empty.

“Is it in there?” Hal asked, looking over in Zander’s direction.

“No,” Zander replied, “so it seems like he got what we left him.”

“What are we waiting for, then? That’s our sign to keep the plan going. It’s go time.”

Zander carefully placed the removed bricks back. “You’re right. It’s now or never.” He looked over to Eliot and then back at Hal. “Do we have any other questions before we enter the second half of our plan?”

Eliot took a few steps forward. “Do we know what his powers are yet?”

Zander paused. “Not exactly.” He glanced at Hal. “We’ve been talking about this very issue for a while now, bouncing theories back and forth to each other. Based on what I’ve gathered during my own research and from what we witnessed at the city square, we are certain of two things.”

Hal removed the cigarette from his mouth and held it with two of his fingers. “The first is that the Slayer has a pretty limited range to do what he needs to do. From what we saw, he waited until Terragong was about fifty feet away from him before he exploded it. And seeing as Tom and Archard are efficiently ruthless people, I reckon that they wouldn’t wait until the last possible moment to kill someone; they would do so as soon as they could.”

“And the second thing we are sure of,” Zander added, “is that the Slayer’s power is that of Dominator. We never saw any apparitions come out of him and it looked like he used his power in an instant. Based on how every victim, human or bestial, explodes, we also surmised that whatever he dominates has to be something that most animals have within their common anatomy. We’re just not exactly sure what. It could be proteins, musical fibers, oxygen, tissue—”

“Blood,” Eliot stated.

Hal and Zander looked over at their quiet friend with an inquisitive, yet amused look. It was like the clearest, most obvious thing was said.

“I mean, since he’s a serial killer,” Eliot continued, “wouldn’t it make sense for it to be blood?”

Zander let out a short chuckle. “Sure, El, that would make sense. But this is real life, not some fantasy story like the ones you always read. Things aren’t so thematic.”

“But Lucretia was greedy and she controlled gold. Archard always tries to be the center of attention and his power has something to do with magnetism. And you,” Eliot said, looking at Hal, “are a hot-head and you control fire.”

Zander and Hal were quiet. Their mouths were shut, but their eyes spoke of how the gears in their brains were turning.

Eliot continued. “These powers aren’t just random. They reflect who we are. Trust me, I know. You remember the obelisk, right? It said that these powers correlate with what we resonate with. That wasn’t just a metaphor…it’s literal.”

“I see…” was all Zander could say.

“Makes sense to me,” Hal added. “Everything fits together.”

Zander rubbed his chin. “If that’s the case, then he has an even more dangerous ability than we thought. There’s no way we can fight him anywhere that he killed someone in.” His eyes then went wide. “We can only fight in that one alley.”

Hal’s eyebrows raised in a surprised fashion. “You're right…every other alley is caked in blood. If he can control it, then he always has the advantage. Oh, Lord, the more he kills the more places he can fight. We have to end this now, otherwise they’ll be nowhere in London that’s safe enough to fight him at.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Then what are we waiting for? We have to get back to that first alley…now!”

“Which alley?” a chilling voice echoed out. About a hundred feet away, emerging from an alley to the left was Tom King, the Slayer. “Surely running away isn’t your only plan.”

Everyone’s eyes immediately darted over to him and froze in place. Zander, in particular, felt cold heat wash over his body. It was a kind of sweat that chilled you to the bone. His brain screamed at him that the most logical choice would be to run, but his body just wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t expecting to see him so soon. Considering the path behind them ended in a dead end, hope started to leave his body like the remaining pigment on his skin.

Suddenly, he was jerked backward and slung over a shoulder. All he saw was the bouncing ground beneath him. That was enough to knock him out of the trance. He turned his head and found that Hal had picked both him and Eliot up and began running away from the threat.

That’s a veteran detective’s institution for you, Zander thought.

He continued to look behind him at the Slayer, but Tom didn’t seem to move. Instead, he watched Tom reach their hand up near a rat that was scurrying about. The tiny creature exploded and the blood rose up and swirled around him.

At that moment, for some unknown reason, Zander felt his focus tighten. The world seemed crisper. Everything was more refined and just sort of…made sense. It was hard to describe, but he intuitively knew the distance between all objects, especially between him and the Slayer. For a brief second, the ground and walls turned into grids, much like those he would map mathematical equations on.

“DUCK!” he screamed out.

Instantly, Hal got low, bringing the two boys he was carrying with him. Then, the small blood that was hovering next to Tom was fired in their direction like a bullet. It barely grazed the tops of their heads, splattering against the wall they were running toward.

How did I…

But before Zander could ponder any further, Hal stood back up and continued running at full speed.

“Good lookin’ out, kid,” Hal said between breaths. He came to a stop just before he reached the dead end. “Well shit.”

Zander swiveled his head around and glanced ahead. In front of him was a concrete wall that went up three stories. There was a ledge at the top that seemed to carry on into another alley, but it was obviously too high for any person to realistically jump to. To make things worse, the wall itself was smooth and without major imperfections that allowed for handholds.

There has to be a way. There has to be a way, Zander thought. He tried to force his brain to work harder. Faster. Smarter.

Turning around, he watched the Slayer briskly walk in their direction. “It seems that running didn’t really work, did it?” Tom jabbed. “I wonder what your blood looks like against the wall? Would it look afraid? Sad? Terrified?”

“I wonder what your head will look like with a bullet in it,” Hal retorted, clicking the hammer of his gun back.

One hundred feet…eighty feet...seventy, Zander thought to himself. We’re almost in his range. What do we do? Make a stand? Find a way out? What do we do? He looked over at Eliot and time stood still. I can’t let him die. I can’t go on without him.

And then he felt a thrum in front of his head. It buzzed all over, but it started to focus in the direction of Tom. It was a familiar feeling, but one that had been subdued to the point of nothingness in the past. It never fully made itself known until recently—until he started loving Eliot.

Truth; reality; shape. Those three words echoed within his head. Finally, after so long, he could hear them. They were clear. No longer were they muddled under the static of the distant thrumming. He let those words meld with him and become him. And in turn, he let himself become those words.

Endless geometry filled his brain. Patterns that shouldn’t even be possible formed themselves and made sense. All concepts of spatial reality flooded into his psyche. As he looked around, he saw that everything’s geometry revealed itself to him. The alley walls had 3-dimensional grids that layered overtop of their reality. Symbols that weren’t quite numbers appeared from every inch of what he focused on and he could understand them. They represented the truth of the space. They represented the true geometry. They represented true, universal math. And he felt a connection to it. He felt the vibrations in his head thrum at the same frequency as the mathematical world around him.

And he felt a connection to it.

“Shit!” he heard Hal yell, followed by gunfire.

As Zander’s eyes scanned his vicinity, he saw that the Slayer was approaching, but he also saw the slight, microscopic indentations his footsteps made as they pressed against the ground with each step. More importantly, he knew the exact distance to him…and it was dangerously close to fifty feet.

Run. Fight. Move. Scream. Climb. Dig. Jump.

All different options ran through his super-powered brain. He could feel the thrumming inside his head speed up every calculation that he made. Down to the millisecond, he knew how long he had until Tom reached him. He knew the space around him. After crunching every possibility in his head, a new one came to light—one that wasn’t possible until now.

“Let’s change geometry,” he said.

He focused his attention at the ground and the grid that was there. His mind imagined the ground beneath him morphing and rising upward. He calculated the volume, distortion, and change in movement. Once that was set, he let the vibrations take over.

Beneath the group’s feet the ground rose up in a rectangular cube-like fashion, raising them up to the previously unreachable ledge. The texture of the stone and ground seemed warped and stretched. It looked like an object from a video game glitching out and being stretched farther than what it was initially programmed to be. Zander was able to change the ground’s fundamental geometry.

“What the hell?” Hal said, barely keeping his balance as he was lifted up.

“Zander, what did you do?”

Zander looked back down at Tom, who had an inquisitive look on their face. He then glanced back at Hal, who was still carrying him and Eliot. “I can’t explain, but we still need to go back to that alley.”

“You got it,” Hal said, “but you gotta run for yourselves.” He let both of them down off of his shoulders, and all three of them began running back to the bloodless alley.

Unlike before, this run didn’t take long. Every twist and turn was led by Zander. He intuitively knew the way back, even through alleys that were unfamiliar to him. He wasn’t just looking at the stone or the brick or the walls; he was looking at the overall geometry of the alley system. At times, it was like he could partially see through solid matter, gazing upon the overall makeup of it all.

“Left. Right. Two lefts. Then straight. Then Left.” Zander continued to use his newfound sight to make the journey back quick. And quick it was. Within less than half an hour, the group of three arrived at the fated alley. There was no blood anywhere in sight.

“Alright, what do we need to do?” Eliot asked, catching his breath.

Zander, without missing a beat, replied, “Summon Berserkir, again.”

“But, Zan, what if he—”

“It’ll be alright.” Zander turned and looked Eliot in the eyes. It was at that moment that Eliot saw something different. In the eyes of Zander, there was a sparkle to the blue that was never there before. It was ethereal. It was like the essence of his eyes slightly shifted about and shone ever-so-slightly.

Eliot took a deep breath. “Ok.”

He let the raging fire inside of him burn once again. He controlled the flames, guiding them to where he willed. He could not let them frenzy about. As he did that, the form of Berserkir once again emerged from him, towering within the alley.

“Now what?”

Zander looked down the alley and instantly calculated several things. “Have it run down the alley and back while drooling. Quickly.”

Eliot paused. “Why?”

“I have a plan.”

Eliot nodded and used his mind to command the Apparition through the alley, its gasoline saliva splattering against everything. At the same time, Zander used his geometric vision to look through the walls around him, hoping to spot any moving figures through the world’s grid. And that’s when he saw him.

While this new ability of his doesn’t actually let him see through anything, he can perceive the measurements, geometry, and spatial sense of what’s in a certain vicinity, regardless of if he can “see” it or not. When there is a change or movement within the geometry, it’s fairly obvious. And just around a few corners, maybe a minute or two away, he sensed movement.

“He’s almost here, get ready,” he said. “El, when I say so, immediately make Berserkir howl and then disappear.” He turned to Hal. “And Hal, start heating up.”

“You got it,” Eliot said.

“Gotcha,” Hal replied.

The air went stale. Nothing seemed to move and nothing seemed to give. Quietly. Patiently. They waited for the signal. Everything was so still that they could hear the thumping of their own hearts. Even the wind was silent.

And then they heard it.

Slowly and methodically, footsteps came echoing around the corner. Trailing right behind that sound was the shadow-cloaked figure of Tom, the Slayer. For the third time, he had made his arrival, and something seemed to indicate that this would be the last.

“Honestly, I’m getting tired of this cat-and-mouse game we have going on,” Tom said with a sigh. “I’m afraid I have to end things here. You all understand.”

“I agree, let’s end this,” Zander said, placing his hand on the alley wall. He felt the vibrations in his head flow down his arm and enter into the wall. He focused that thrumming in the direction of a certain vertex that his eyes saw.

I need to stall for time, he thought. Let’s see what I can do.

He allowed his mind and the space around him to become one. His will vibrated out of him in the form of waves that he could not yet see. Reality began to quake and he commanded it to change.

“Reality Warp: Convex Barricade,” he yelled.

The alley wall shifted and jiggled like it was made of gelatin. Halfway between Zander and Tom, the wall jutted outward, causing it to have an unnatural parabolic curve to it. The apex of the curve reached toward the other wall and connected with it, essentially sealing the passage between them.

Zander looked back at Eliot and Hal. “Now!”

Berserkir let out a primal howl and disappeared, and Hal took a step back and lit a cigarette. When he did, the lit end started to grow brighter. And brighter. And brighter. Over the course of the next few seconds, the sparking end of the cigarette turned into a small, maintained bonfire.

“I’m all ready when ya need me,” Hal said, the flaming cigarette resting in his mouth.

“Good,” Zander replied, “because I’m going to need you soon.”

As he said that, the warped wall in front of him shook, causing some dust to fall from it. And then it shook again, this time a little more violently. After a few more short bursts of movements, the center of the wall cracked. Before anyone had any time to react to it, the wall shook again, finally collapsing in place. Dust and debris scattered into the air, obscuring the entire center of the alley.

Walking out of the dust cloud was the Slayer, silhouetted and calm.

“Now that was rather unexpected,” he said, dusting off his suit with his hand. “I wasn’t made aware of another Resonator in the group. But it matters not. You’ll end up as a crimson pool like all the others.”

“That’s a bold prediction,” Zander taunted, “but I don’t make guesses—I make calculations. And the only thing I’m calculating is victory.”

Tom just laughed. His laughter was shrill and sharp, echoing as it bounced off of the walls. There was nothing happy about the laugh, only cruelty remained within it.

Zander didn’t retort anymore. He just stared ahead and continued to focus on the distance. Currently, the Slayer was 100 feet away…80…70…60…

“Hal,” Zander said, winking at the detective, “light ‘em up.”

“Say no more,” Hal replied with a smile.

As the fire around Hal ignited further and swirled around him, both Zander and Eliot ran behind him. The fiery eyes of the detective shone with a spark of justice, and the flames of his passion were burning ever brighter. He flicked the burning cigarette and it fired out of his hand like a bullet, colliding with the ground in front of Tom.

“Now what were you aiming—” But before Tom could finish the thought, the area around him erupted in an explosive inferno. His figure was all but obscured, and the heat was immense. For Hal, it surprisingly didn’t bother him, but for Eliot and Zander, it was barely tolerable, even from their distance away from them.

Hal chuckled. “That's the tricky thing about gasoline. It explodes pretty quickly, just like my passion for justice.”

And like passion, the initial explosion quickly began to subside, leaving the fire to be more like a bonfire than a blazing furnace. As the orange slowly petered out, an unusual shape was left where the Slayer once was. It was a red sphere that was about six feet in diameter. It seemed more fluid than solid, too.

Once the flames became embers, the sphere collapsed and turned into a pool of blood on the ground. Emerging from the center of the sphere was a scowling Tom. Half of his face was marked by flames, with parts of his body burned and charred. From both of his arms, massive amounts of blood dripped down.

“Did you really think that would take me out?” He said, seething. “I can resonate. I can sense when you’re about to attack. I can use my own blood to shield me. But even so, it seems like blood is slower than fire.” He gently caressed the burn marks that now singed half of his body.

Zander continued to look ahead at the Slayer as he staggered ahead.

Sixty…Zander thought, fifty-five…fifty-four…fifty-three…

The Slayer was just about to get in range, but Zander did not panic. Unlike most times in his life, he felt oddly calm and in charge of his emotions. In fact, the more he thrummed and used his powers, the more logical he became. Anything within his mind that was fueled by emotion was now fueled by rationale.

Fifty-two…fifty one…

“I’m going to make you all pay!” Tom screamed.

And just as he stepped into the fifty foot range, extending his bloody hands out toward his victims, a shot rang out from elsewhere. Tom stopped in his tracks. He barely had enough time to say or do anything, seeing as the bullet hole in his head continued to bleed out.

“You…” was all the Slayer could say before he collapsed onto the ground, dead.

Looking up at the roofs above, another figure emerged from the shadows, holding a pistol out toward Tom.

“I see you got my message,” Zander commented, looking up at the figure.

The figure jumped down from the roof and landed on the ground. His slender body obscured by the now-approaching night sky, barely lit by the smoldering embers of Hal’s attack.

“Of course,” Lucky Larry said, “I had to avenge my gang and my best friend, Silo. Now, let’s go find that obelisk.”