Unsought Memories

  Well, you now know that fate commands that I become Magnus the Grave One, First of His Kind to Return. You know of my greatest defeat, at the hands of Victor the Abhorrent One. You know of my friendship and dedication to the First Elder and his grandson, the Zion. You know my sensei, Antares the High Demon Lord. And you know that I am brother (figuratively) to Nemesis, and subject of the mighty Obsidian King who has ordered me to free my kind from the Never, but for what purpose, I do not know. You know that I am a murderer, in fact, I killed before I even took my first breath in this world. Yet, you also know that I am a slave to duty and honor, and that I would give my life to protect an innocent, even if he proved to be my enemy. Lastly, and most importantly, you know that I do not want any of this, but that I perceive that I have no genuine choice in this matter. But I will do anything to satisfy my destiny, whatever that may be, as I simply wish to return to the Creator -- whatever the cost.

  Ironically, I thought that by sharing these things with you, that I would provide some insight as to why I am sitting here, but as I consider what I have relayed thus far, I realize that I have only conveyed the tip of the iceberg. You must still know more, much more, if you are to truly understand, no, appreciate why I sit here waiting for an unknown assassin.

  Indeed, you are undoubtedly relieved to know that I am here to save your President. Not that I care for the man, in fact, his utter failure is actually quite pivotal to the success of my plan. But for him to fail, I must first insure that he ascends to his office. You know what they say, the higher the rise, the greater the fall. Poor thing. I fear that I do him a great disservice by saving him, but, like most things, this is a necessary evil -- if my plan is to succeed. And yes, I have a plan; not a great plan, but the beginnings of a crazy scheme that just might, might work. You see, time and leverage are the keys. I must exploit the things that I know, and if my brief life has taught me anything, it is that I can always rely on the fallibility of man. This lesson, life has taught me over, and over again. So while I am known as Magnus the Grave One, First of His Kind to Return on the dreamscape, in the real world, I do not yet possess a name, and for my plan to work, there is a certain title that I must earn in the real world. But, we will speak of this later, for now ... I wait. But, it seems that my **guest** has arrived, and I must deal with this doomed being.

  The stairs creak under his weight. He is a slight man, tall, but not thin, wirey and long muscled. For a larger fighter like myself, smaller opponents are particularly dangerous. I had to be careful or this man would kill me. I slip behind the door and listen for it to open. Footsteps echoe in the dark. Ten steps from the main landing. Five steps. Two steps. Then silence. My heart soundes like a marching band drum. I slow my breathing. And focus my heart, mind and soul. I wait. And then, he just comes through the wall -- concrete, rebars and all. His bowie knife barely misses the back of my knife as I clumsily fall forward, hoping to gain control of my momentum, and my shock. Someone has apparently warned the assasin that I would be here. Not good, not good at all.

  No matter. He shall die all the same. I continue my fall forward, and using my superior weight, I turn and grab his wrist and pull him forward. He swings his other arm around, and again, his bowie knife comes into play. I try to unthink a fatal wound, but I am a little slow, and the knife nicks the inside of my forearm. We both crash to the ground. I realize that I am blinded by the dust from the drywall, and the darkness, so I cease attempting to clear my vision and close my eyes to fight instinctively. The killer rolls past me, and I unthink the back of his hand shattering my jaw as he flys by. Instead, I slow my own tumble and turn to follow in his wake. I draw my tanto and effortlessly slice his achilles tendon. He howles in pain. "Curse you," he hisses. I do not respond. Instead, I unthink his bowie knife gutting me, as I move in to sever his head from his neck. Instead, I actually go low and plunge my blade into the base of his spine as he lunges forward with his knife -- neatly severing his spinal cord. He crumples in a lifeless heap, suffering a silent death. I then let momentum have its way, and I tumble to the ground a few feet from his lifeless form. But once again, it seems that I am not in control of my fate, as I impale myself on a pipe protruding from the recently shattered wall.

  Yeah, yeah, I know -- didn't unthink that did you smart arse? Look, I make mistakes; the trick is not to let your mistakes get you killed. I had done that, so I am only so pissed as I glance down at the growing red stain on my right side. I slide down to the floor, and cut away my clothing. The wound aint too bad. I reach for my duffle bag and fetch my first aid kit. And in a few painful moments, the wound is closed and the bleeding stops. But I obviously am in no condition to move or descend flights of stairs. I will have to spend a few hours here until I feel strong enough to move. Great, now I have to risk being here when this body is found. I sigh, and try to relax. I am not sure what is happening, but my mind begins to cloud, and I am unintentionally losing consciousness for the first time in over 15 years. I am still not sure which is worse, sleeping in a room with a guy you just murdered or returning to a place I had vowed never to return.

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