"Donovan Blackwater! Greetings and salutations!"


I am acknowledged by an exuberant Dillinger D'Marco as soon as I open my front door. His cheerfulness, somehow only making the maniac seem even more off-putting than usual, I step back and allow him access to my apartment anyway. He takes a jaunty stroll inside, passing me briskly, he turns and faces me. A clever smirk now accenting his face. I lock the door and proceed towards the living room, closely followed by Dillinger. The idea of having the self professed, serial killer in my abode, isn't a concept that sits all too well with me but it's not like I had much choice in the matter. Dillinger was the only person who could help me with my current situation. I needed answers and his assistance was the only way that I would be able to achieve them. Still, his presence made me rather weary, I think he picked up on that fact, which explains his very apparent enjoyment. He relished the reaction. Whatever. I wouldn't grant him the satisfaction of witnessing my discomfort, if there's one thing I was very good at... it was hiding my true, inner feelings. So I did just that. Smiling as I slipped on my metaphorical mask, I spoke in my most friendliest of tones.


"Thanks for helping me out with this little problem I've been having."


"Hey we're practically family, it's my pleasure."


Family? We're practically family? What the actual fuck?!?! This guy was straight up nuts, if he believed that.


"Family? How do you figure?"


Laughing, I scrunched up my face a tad, in mock disbelief and shook my head.


"Well, I'm Reese and Griffin's half brother and Griff is pretty much married to your sister Lila, makes sense to me."


"Right. I forgot that you recently shared that information with Griffin. You both have the same Mom, she left her family and hooked up with your father, Ozarath: The Blood God."


"She was the first person that I killed. Ripped right outta her, like that scene from Aliens, when the alien tears itself to freedom. Good times."


"Lovely. Do you think we can move this along, I have to pick up my son from his tutor soon."


"Tutor?"


"Yeah, he can't exactly attend regular school, what with his advanced aging. Too many questions would be raised. So I had to hire a tutor to teach him. It's easier explaining the process to one person, rather than an entire school."


"Ah. Gotcha. So what did you need my help with? You told me before that it required the use of a specific ability of mine and that only I could aid you in this endeavor. What's the act that I need to perform?"


"I don't need you to kill anyone!"


My words were swiftly blurted out with a great deal of excitement. Did I mention the idea of spending time with a murderer made me on edge? I laughed and attempted to recover from that nervous outburst. I needed to keep the upper hand here and not lose my cool. Or at the very least, not let Dillinger be aware of it, should my unease take over and momentarily remove me, from my faculties. He couldn't know that happened. It would only give him an undeserving sense of control and power. I couldn't afford such a thing to occur.


"I just need you to understand that I don't require you to commit any acts of violence, especially not murder. No one will be dying today. Well, maybe someone might be dying, somewhere out there. However, it isn't going to be due to anything that you're helping me with today, capisce?"


Dillinger snickered.


"Okay, I get it. No murder. So what can I do for you?"


"I've been seeing things. Things that aren't there. There one minute, gone the next. Specifically someone that isn't there. Someone that can't be there and yet, she appears as clearly and visibly as you are standing there. My dead wife, Abigail."


"Generally when folks find themselves hallucinating, they seek out some sort of mental health professional. Not an inter-dimensional, demi-god with a blood lust and a deep, intense desire for death and destruction. I mean, sure I spent most of my youth in a sanitarium and my step-mother sent me off to the Realm of Madness, where I was trapped for two years but that doesn't qualify me to give advice on the subject of insanity. Although, being that I'm a picture of pristine mental health, I will tell you this... if you're having visions and seeing shit that isn't there, your mind is more than likely gone. Or severely shattered in some way. Basically your brain is broken but chin up, they're making excellent strides in the field of mental health these days."


"Thanks. Hearing that from you really means something."


To say my statements were sarcastic, would be a gross underestimation.


"As much as I appreciate the free advice, I was hoping that you'd use your powers to see if my apartment is being haunted."


"By Abigail."


"That would be the most logical assumption, since she's the one I'm seeing. I figured since you can track spirits and observe their paths of energy, you could help me to determine if I'm being haunted or as you so eloquently worded it... if my brain is broken. Mental illness does run in my family, so insanity isn't an utterly absurd answer. Still, I'd like to think, I wasn't a crackpot destined for the laughing academy. So if you could do this for me, I would owe you, big time. Oh and if you could also keep this between us, that would be great. I don't need the knowledge of me possibly seeing ghosts to spread. That's literally the last thing I need."


"No worries, man. Your secret is safe with me."


Dillinger patted me on the shoulder and walked past me. Continuing onward, he sauntered around my apartment, his eyes panning its interior as he almost seemed to study it. He went from room to room, an expression of deep contemplation fixated upon his face. Dillinger ended his expedition within my bedroom. Where he stopped at the foot of the bed, his sights set on the farthest corner of the room. Next to the windows, he peered intently into the empty space that existed between them and my nightstand. With a sigh, he spun around and directed his focus to me. His movements so abrupt and quick, it was slightly startling and I couldn't help but softly gasp as my eyes widened a bit. This caused a grin to filter across Dillinger's face.


"Jumpy, aren't you?"


He joked, freely.


"I'm facing the options of madness or being haunted by my dead wife, so no I'm not altogether calm or in a state of complete tranquility."


"Understandable. I see phantom apparitions and specters on a regular basis, so I'm used to it by now. Anyway, you can ease your troubled thoughts, you aren't crazy and Abigail isn't haunting you."


"If Abigail isn't haunting me, then what's going on?"


"Oh you most definitely are being haunted, it just isn't Abigail that's doing the haunting. It seems like there is an entity that's been looming around for some time now, more than likely feeding off your life force. Possibly even your son's, since children are fairly susceptible to spirits and can be easily manipulated by them. From the energy that's being given off, this ghost is quite strong. Hence my assumption that it has been here for awhile."


Pause.


"There's something else that's unnerving about it as well, and this is coming from me so that should tell you something about the degree of seriousness behind the information. I don't scare or frighten easily... or at all, really. Anyhow, this is chilling to me and it should be noted."


"What?"


"Its aura... the very essence of it is black. In fact, it almost seems to be giving off an abysmal, black hole type of pull, I can feel it trying to feed off your life force, right now. The true embodiment of darkness, sin and misery. I have never encountered something like this before, not on this Earthly plain anyway. The pure, unadulterated malevolence is overwhelming."


"Fantastic. So what should I do about this vile thing?"


"There's nothing that you can do. Nothing I can do either. I'm only able to detect the essence of the dead, I can't exorcise unruly or displaced souls. For that, you need an expert. Ordinarily, I'd suggest my girlfriend, Nyx Nephthys but she's currently in New Orleans and we're in Brooklyn; however, from what I've been told, there's someone that might be of assistance that resides relatively close by. A certain holy man that patrols the night like some type of religious Batman and claims to be a master of the light and dark arts."


I knew precisely who he was talking about and felt a little silly that I didn't seek this man out to begin with. Dillinger was of course referring to Alister Dante, more commonly known by the criminal underground, vicious beasts that went bump in the night and all the evil forces of the netherworld as Templar. If anyone could put an end to my issues and remove an unwanted entity, it would be him that could do it.




"Thunder Knuckles."


"The man that has one goal and one goal only, to get paid. He's all about that sweet dolla, dolla bill, yo."


"I can respect that. I have a rather lavish taste myself. I prefer the finer things in life. Opulence and splendor that could only be acquired by a man of means. Someone of immense wealth and prestige. Which I happen to be, so this isn't any trouble for me. I'm not first class, I'm elite class, therefore it's only the best of the best for me. After all, I deserve nothing less. Although, my wealth and social standings, didn't come from wrestling, no I was already a well established member of the upper crust, crème de la crème, long before I began wrestling. Still, the extra publicity of having my name in lights, definitely helps, more than it hurts. Not that there are any locked doors standing in my way. I'm Donovan Blackwater, all the women want me, while the men want to be me and why wouldn't they, I'm marvelous. Absolute perfection."


"This is something that Thunder Knuckles would know nothing about cause... well, look at him. He looks like some kind of hideous troll. I'm certain before he became a wrestler in the XWF, he lived under a bridge somewhere or deep within the confines of a cave. He's grotesque. Offensive to every single one of my senses. I'm willing to bet that he smells as foul as he looks. He's more than likely constantly sweaty or sticky, for some unknown reason. Like a being that's always covered in jam. If he had a flavor, it would be wet dog or raw sewage. Not that I know what either tastes like, I can simply surmise that it would be terrible. Atrocious and utterly awful. Much like the very essence of Thunder Knuckles."


"Seriously. No human in their right mind, would sink so low as to embark upon any type of sexual act of gratification, with that abhorrent freak of nature. No wonder he's determined to accumulate cash, the only way that he gets laid is when he pays for a prostitute. Not even high end hookers either, these are like the bottom of the barrel trash. The kind that don't mind kneeling in filth and shit. Ones missing most of their teeth, with questionable hygiene skills. When they spread their legs, the wallpaper starts peeling off of the wall. Fucking gross. That's all T.K can get though."


"Not everyone can exist by my supreme standards. I'm exquisite. The only thing that mirrors my fine features is my intellect, charm and wit, oh and the fact that I'm an incredible wrestler. Inspiring awe and excitement to the masses, my matches are unparalleled and I always entertain. Meanwhile, Thunder Knuckles resembles a drunken sloth, with all the skill and flair of one too. Is it any mystery as to why he's struggling to obtain his cash, his performances thus far are pathetic at best. He doesn't deserve the paycheck and soon, everyone will come to realize that but first, I'm going to beat him into oblivion."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...