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He hadn’t gotten very far before Quinn realized that he was being followed. He could hear them following above, jumping from tree branch to tree branch like monkeys on the prowl. Those creatures he had seen so long ago, and only began to see again as of late. He stopped short, breathing heavily as he looked around the dark forest. His hammering heart and gasping made it hard to hear anything, so by the time he heard movement, it was too late to react. A small shadowed being about the size of a toddler fell from above, landing upon his chest and forcing him to the ground. His nerves cried out as claws tore open the skin on his chest, and he could feel the warmth of his blood as it dripped from the wounds. The creature’s face was then mere inches from his own, the stink of its breath apparent as it snarled and spat. One of his arms was busy keeping the thing’s teeth from tearing open his face, his muscles being pushed to their limit. With his other arm, he raised it as high as he could and then brought it down as hard as he could, driving the dagger’s blade into his assailant. The thing growled, the sound chilling and inhuman as it retreated. The dagger was nearly pulled from Quinn’s hand, but he held firm and yanked it back towards him. He got to his feet as two more creatures fell from the trees a few feet away. The moon was now visible, having been hidden behind a blanket of clouds, and provided proper illumination so Quinn could now see what he was dealing with, what he had been seeing all along.

They stood only three feet tall, with long scraggly arms and stubby legs, proportions that nearly resembled that of primates with jagged claws protruding from each digit. Their torsos were cone shaped and their necks unusually long. Their heads were bulbous, their eyes large and asymmetrical, the color of urine. Their mouths were in a permanent Cheshire cat grin, lined with shark-like teeth with a long and lolling serpent’s tongue the color of vomit. Their maroon colored flesh was scaley and cracked., like that of a harlequin fetus. They looked from the pile of rapidly decaying flesh and bone that was once their comrade and back to Quinn, their faces stoic, but he knew they were anything but emotionless. He could see it all in the reflections of their eyes. They hated him for killing one of their own, they wanted vengeance and he may have even saw hunger in there as well. Perhaps they could smell the blood that dribbled down his chest like a shark can smell the blood of an injured fish.

Quinn began to back up and was about to turn and run when odd feelings and symptoms suddenly came over him. One minute he was fine and the next he began feeling like he was either extremely drunk or really drugged up. His eyes had trouble focusing as his vision went from blurry to clear over and over. His arms felt like they were composed of lead and his legs felt like they were rubber and after a while they were unable to support his torso and he came crashing to his knees. His fingers were unable to support the dagger in his hand, releasing it to the ground and making him now defenseless. His heart was beating erratically and sounds were being distorted and filtered through his ears. Had he been poisoned by the thing that attacked him? Something told him that this was what he was experiencing. He had been poisoned somehow, either through the now swelling and throbbing wounds on his chest or the saliva that had been sprayed across his face during the brief struggle. These things were as deadly as they were ugly. And these ugly sons of bitches were about to feast on his flesh.

Not knowing if it was the fact that he was dying or something else, the air between him and the creatures began to shift. He watched as a pair of shoes, a pair of jeans and some sort of hooded coat began to appear, transparent at first but then it started to take form. Then, there was a hooded figure standing between Quinn and the creatures. Both creatures seemed to be irritated by the figure and leapt at him at the same time. Quinn somehow saw it happen in slow motion, probably due to the poison. He watched as the figure reached at his belt and brought forth a dagger that looked similar to the one he had. The figure’s hand was quick, as he sliced one monster in two and then caught the other by the throat in mid-strike and disemboweled it. Now all three creatures lay in heaps of decaying flesh. Everything seemed to make less sense as the seconds wore on, especially after the hooded figure got down on one knee in front of him and removed his hood. Quinn’s vision may have been bad, but not bad enough that he couldn’t see that the face below the hood belonged to his older brother Donovan. Although his hair was a bit longer, he still looked to be the same older brother that was there the night before his eighteenth birthday, and then gone on the evening of. He had taken his college savings and a few of his belongings, and left only a note that read You know where I have gone. Thank you for all that you have done for me for the past 18 years. Tell Quinn I’m sorry. When he asked his folks where his brother had gone, they would never give him a straight answer. It was as if there were some big dark secret that was being kept from him, and he didn’t like it one bit. Could this be the brother who left when Quinn was only twelve years old? Hell, he encountered a man who was supposed to be dead and monsters that shouldn’t exist in reality, so why not? He wasn’t going to be alive much longer, so why question anything?

“Donny,” Quinn said, his voice hoarse and quivering. “I think I’m dying.”

Donovan grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re not dying bro,” He replied. “Not on my watch.” He brought Quinn to his feet, placing his arm over his shoulder and steadying him with his other arm around his waist. One minute they were in the woods, then there was a great sensation of movement that only lasted but a second and the next thing he knew, they were in another place completely. They were in a modest sized room, with granite colored walls and a plum colored carpet, two color choices that Quinn found rather distasteful even in his poisoned state. There was a mahogany wardrobe against the east wall that was wearing a thick coat of dust, as was the small desk and chair set that was a foot from the wardrobe and the nightstand that looked charred. The bed against the west wall, the only thing he seemed to like in this whole room looked comfortable and ancient, but Quinn wouldn’t have cared if it was the bed that Jack The Ripper lied in whilst pleasuring himself to images of slaughtered prostitutes. He desired to lay down, to sleep even if it was permanently. Overall the room looked horrendous, but this was from the mind of a poisoned and possibly dying young man whose room resembled that of a typical teenager. Quinn was so pre-occupied by the prospect of laying down and letting himself drift away that he had not noticed the two men standing in the room. One of them was of average build with strawberry blond hair and facial stubble, dressed in a guard’s uniform. The other was tall, slim with black hair long enough to be tucked behind his ears and a bushy moustache, dressed in a pair of black trousers with a dark gray long-sleeved shirt. The two men exchanged a look of alarm as they gazed upon Quinn. “Robert, go get Dakota!” The moustached man said to the other as he rushed forward to aid Donovan in bringing Quinn over to the bed.

“On it Gilbert!” Robert said, bolting from the room.

Quinn felt like his whole body was on fire from the inside. Sweat was draining from his pores like a stuck faucet. He felt the urge to close his eyes and drift away, which intensified once he was brought down upon the bed, but something deep within him told him to fight. To live. His shirt was tore open by Gilbert and he could tell by both Donovan and the man’s expression that his wounds did not look good. They did not feel good either, for they were throbbing along with his speeding pulse. The flesh around his wounds had turned black and the blackness was spreading. Oh god, Quinn’s mind screamed. I’m rotting from the outside and burning from the inside!

Robert returned to the room, and brought with him Dakota, the man that Gilbert had asked to be fetched. Dakota looked to be older than Donovan, but not as old as Gilbert. His silky ebony hair was tied back from his handsome, but weathered burnt-sierra face. He was wearing only a bathrobe and his tattooed torso was exposed. In his hand he held a glass vial with a puss-colored liquid bubbling within it. He looked from Quinn and then to Gilbert, his eyes puzzled. “A minion attack?” Dakota asked, handing the vial over.

Gilbert nodded, then turned to Quinn, who was getting worse by the second. He was shaking, the color having completely drained from his body. His breathing was coming out in gasps and wheezes as his blood-shot eyes dashed around the room, from each person’s face. Gilbert instructed Donovan and Dakota to each grab one of Quinn’s arms, and Robert to grab his legs. They all did as they were asked. Panic began to rise up Quinn’s slowly closing throat. He tried to demand what was going on, but no words could escape his lips.

As if he had read his lips, Gilbert replied, “Saving your life.” He then held the vial of liquid close to the blackened flesh and wounds and turned the vial upside down. The contents in the vial appeared to be liquid, but behaved like a gas. It traveled down and spread all over Quinn’s chest. As soon as it touched the wounds, it turned into a liquid and began to bubble. The pain was immediate, feeling like the stinging of a thousand bees upon his flesh. He screamed as his whole body went rigid, barely able to make a sound. His stiff limbs flailed, but he was far too weak to break from the grasps the others had on them. The pain began to intensify as the blackened flesh began to regenerate. He started to regain his voice and his ability to breathe. His insides, which had felt like they were the temperature of molten lava were beginning to cool down. For one final moment the pain became so intense that he thought he was going to pop a lung from screaming. As he let out his final yell, his entire body was glowing neon blue, like it had before. He jerked into a sitting position and from his clenched and tearing eyes shot two bolts of lightning that dashed across the room, but dissipated before they got to the door frame. The glow was then gone, and the room was silent. Quinn fainted, his body relaxing as his head fell back down to the pillow. Gilbert, Donovan, Robert and Dakota all looked from one another with shock, but everyone except for Robert didn’t look all that surprised at what just occurred. Gilbert pushed Quinn’s hair away from his face and then made his way towards the door. The others followed. Tomorrow, they would explain everything to Quinn, but for now he needed to rest and let the serum heal him completely.