1 The White Devil

Neil Ackerman stepped out of the Cadillac SUV and onto the wet, glistening black, asphalt. The night was soundless; silent in it's melancholy as it quietly witnessed every criminal as he relished in the thick blanket of the darkness that now covered New York City. The wind had howled itself hoarse screaming at the towering, apathetic skyscrapers and the only evidence left of its fury now, were puddles of rainwater dotted around the mute streets.

Neil saw none of this. He was ecstatic, his adrenaline still high in his veins. He straightened his thousand dollar suit and regarded the skyscraper in front of him. He smiled. Soon. Soon all this will be mine. Contently, he walked in through the golden revolving doors of the dark building, past the lifeless ornate entrance hall, and straight to the golden elevator doors loyally awaiting his arrival.

As Neil flew upwards to the top floor, he admired his reflection in the golden polish of the doors. The face of the new King. The elevator doors soon gave way and opened into the wide, top floor, hall. For a fleeting moment, Neil's smile widened as he looked around triumphantly, but then it crumbled as his mind failed to grasp the lack of festivity. Where was the diamond champagne? Where were the girls? Where were the higher-ups ready to pat him on the back? Where was everyone?

Yet none of his questions were answered and all that greeted him in turn was a silent, dark room, devoid of any semblance of welcome. Confused, Neil stepped past all the elegant glass furniture of the huge room and towards the far end where he saw his father pacing side to side in semi-darkness. Only his younger brother and Hugh Albin accompanied his father in his worry; grave statues that dared not make sound.

"What's going on?" he asked, approaching the chairman's desk with arrogance. His father immediately looked up and so did his brother. Neil eyed him, his glance skeptical. Daniel stood with his usual impeccable suit, neatly combed hair, and perfect posture...but there was something off today. His expression was disturbed. He looked worried? Almost instinctively, Neil's eyes glided to Hugh Albin, the CEO, and even he looked worried...almost disappointed. Sad.

"What did you do?" asked his father. His voice was stable, the iron in it not yet shaken, but only Daniel caught how his fingernails tore into the leather of the chair he pushed aside.

"What needed to be done." answered Neil, the arrogance in his voice growing. The man I knew once really is gone.

Durst Ackerman's fists clenched yet still he maintained his composition. "What did you do?" he repeated to his first son.

"What I thought was right."

"What you thought was right?" Durst repeated, his voice starting to shake. Does this kid realize ANYTHING?

"Azusawa killed Pat, Dad!" shouted Neil, his frustration breaking loose. "What did you expect me to do? Nothing? Sit on my ass like you?" he challenged. "She was your daughter as well! And you were just going to let it slide? Let those fucking Japanese fucks get away with it!?" Neil breathed and his eyes caught his father's. Somewhere, deep in their depth, they looked beaten, afraid. Saddened. "When did you become so impotent, dad?" he asked, disgusted.

All he heard next was his Dad's furious scream and he was knocked back with the force of a deity. He flew through the room and hit the opposite wall with an agonizing thud and crumbled to the floor. Through blurry eyes piercing the dark room, he saw the chairman's tabl,e now destroyed, his father standing furiously in its remains, and a large, orange, magical disc glowing on his palm. The fiery disc, bigger than his father's hand glowed with a frightening anger; the triangle inside it and the surrounding runes shined with a brilliance he had rarely seen his father use as the spell angrily glared right into Neil's eyes. "Get over here!" shouted his father. And before his crumpled son could lift himself to his feet, Durst did a pulling motion with his hand and Neil was dragged through the floor and straight to his father's feet.

"Do you realize what you've done!? You went against my orders and assassinated Azusawa!?" He roared. "Did I did I not tell you to stay patient!? Did I not order you to not make a move? Did I not tell you to not leave the country!? Yet, still, my eldest son, you went against all that and went to Japan and killed one of the Arima-clan's Lieutenants!" Neil looked up at his father from the floor. The lion towered over his cub once more as he had done every day when he had been younger...the big king of this small concrete jungle. Neil took a deep breath and stumbled to his feet. "I did...What. Needed. To. Be. Done." Durst stared at his son; the sheer resolve in his eyes shook him; for the first time since all this fiasco had began, he actually took a breath to calm down, tame the fearful tsunami in his mind. He turned away, his sadness overwhelming him, and stared outside the large windows at the city beneath his feet. "Pat was a lot smarter than you, Neil. She knew the risks of her mission well and what failure would mean. And she failed." he said, his voice calm again as he stepped through the rubble of the once grand table. "And her failure meant we were left exposed. But that didn't mean I was going to let Azusawa get away with it."

"What?", Neil asked bewildered.

Durst sighed. "I needed you to be patient. Patient only till we found a way to deal with Arima-clan's greatest weapon."

Neil's pupils widened and he straightened up. "The White Devil?" He breathed. The mention of the name covered the room in a cold, damp air; solid icicles piercing the very darkness the magicians stood in. "But...that's just a myth. A fairy tale Arima came up with to keep everyone in line. You can't seriously-"

Bam! Neil was lifted off the ground and slammed into the side wall. The dark tiles shattered at the impact and force, and Neil fell to the ground once more. Durst calmed his second outburst and the bright magical disc from his hands faded. Neil got his feet under him once more and stood up, white dust coating his expensive gray suit. "He isn't?" He asked hollowly. Durst turned his back on him again, and by nature, Neil turned to Daniel. He looked disturbed and worried for his brother; an expression he hadn't seen in years. With a move as slight as a feather, Daniel shook his head silently. "He is!?" exclaimed Neil.

Durst Ackerman sighed. "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled...was to convince the world he didn't exist." A haunting silence hung over the now demolished room in a thick fog of fear; a fear felt by everyone who stood there. "The White Devil is very real, son." whispered Durst, his voice afraid for the first time. "Not many in the world know of his existence past fleeting rumors, but there are those who do know for sure and fewer who dare say it out loud. I don't know what evil abyss Arima pulled him out of, or what kind of the blackest magic he did to summon such a devil...but he did. He did. Somehow, from the deepest pits of the darkest hell, he managed to drag out a ruthless monster. A fiend with no conscious, no morals, no mercy." Durst turned to his son. "A beast so bloodlusted, that within weeks of his ascension, he drowned all the streets of Japan in Divine blood and stained the oceans red. And then, still not satisfied, he spun those tainted waters towards every corner of the world, inhumanly killing every man, woman, or child that got in his way till all the seven seas were running red. In one year...one year...he managed to make the entire world shake from fear of his name. Do you realize how brutal...how satanic...a man has to be for the entire world to fear him in one year?"

"He isn't just powerful, he's efficient." said Hugh Albin, speaking for the first time. "He's killed every target Arima has ever sent him after. Seemingly invincible and unreachable targets...Divines none of us could touch...The White Devil got to. Madame Rose, Russ Baker, the dismantling of SES-corp, the massacre at Beijing, Moscow Murders, the Washington revolt...all of them orchestrated by him. And these are some of the only ones we've heard of...who knows what the true number is. The slaughter of Shin-ra corp. is just the most recent example. "

"And to ensure that Arima doesn't make any wounded enemies...The White Devil's solution is simple: kill everyone. He's merciless and powerful enough for that." said Daniel. "No one could raise a finger against Arima if no one was left breathing. When The White Devil comes, your entire family is doomed to be drowned in a sea of their own blood...a red bath to cleanse anyone who does or ever would oppose Arima."

"There have only been few in our circles who dare whisper about him and his threat...but if they do, they can count their remaining hours on one hand. He, Neil," said Hugh, turning to him, "is the reason Arima-clan now has an international presence. A single magician that no one has ever even seen. A demonic mage who remorselessly kills anyone Arima points him towards...a mage who laughs as he stands on the mountain of bodies."

"We are not even sure who actually runs Arima anymore. He himself might be running it. It is bigger than us now. We are not in the same league as Arima-clan." said Daniel, his mind calculative. "The smartest move was to ingratiate ourselves with them after Pat's failure."

"But instead," said Durst, fury taking over him once more as he remembered his dire situation. "my son invaded the devil's temple and killed his priest. Killed in cold blood a man the Devil called a brother. What do you think is gonna happen now? That same fiend who shakes our world with his name...the same devil who slaughtered hundreds without a thought...now comes for my son. Now comes for you."

"Then I'll kill him." said Neil simply. All three of the men present in the room sighed exasperatedly. "Do you not realize what's happening here!? Do you not know who's coming for you!? Death! Death itself is coming for you and you can do nothing about it." said Daniel walking up to him. "You can't kill Death, brother!"

"The best we can do is delay it." muttered Hugh.

"I'll kill him." repeated Neil. Durst shouted and grabbed his son by the collar. With one hand he charged up his fire spell, the burning orange disc shining from his palm barely an inch away from his son's face. "Arima's Black Death is coming for you, son. You cannot reason with it, you cannot escape it, you cannot fight it." Neil stared back defiantly, his eyes burning with an iron resolve his father had never seen in him. "I'll kill him." his son repeated quietly.

Durst sighed and his spell disintegrated. What day was it in hell to have me doomed like this...to have my son on the guillotine like this. But... He stared into his son's convicted eyes once more; they burned with magical aura more bright than he had ever seen. Not all is lost yet. "Go to the estate in the outskirts." said Durst quietly. "I will set you up with guards and your best men. If you truly believe you can perform a miracle, my son, do so and come back to me alive with the Devil's head."

Neil grinned a savage smile. "I will redeem myself of my mistakes, father. Wait for me, for I am coming back in the morning."

* * *

The night was reaching its apex as the Cadillac pulled up to the sprawling mansion on the outskirts of New York City. Neil was strangely calm as he sat in the backseat of the car. The leather of the seat was cold on his skin, the night breeze outside rising in a crescendo once more as it applauded the imminent arrival of a demon, freezing the entire city for him as he tore it apart. Neil ignored it all; he had committed himself now and even the so-called Death would not deter him. His resolve was made up, his heart calm, his hands steady, and his mind drowning out all fear in a wall of razor sharp focus.

The young man hopped out of the car in front of the carriage entrance of the mansion. An entourage of over thirty guys awaited him, silent in black suits, as they observed their commander. Neil looked around and spotted even more guards patrolling the front grounds, roofs, and the entrance. The mansion and all its grounds were doused in an eerie darkness...a palace of death only waiting for the imminent bloodshed that would follow its master's arrival. Only a few brave windows dared to bore through the thick mist of fear and shined a hopeful light from the facade of the building.

Two men standing at the head of the group detached themselves and walked over to greet Neil. The first towered above Neil with a colossal physique reaching over seven feet. His arms were titanic, chiseled with almost inhuman muscles. He wore nothing but a black tank top, the cold wind trying to freeze him in vain waves. The other had short hair perfectly combed and a faultless dark gray suit. Both of them smiled as they reached Neil.

"What's this I hear?" asked the shorter one with an arrogant, friendly smile. "You finally pissed someone off so much they're sending their demon after you?" The bigger man guffawed loudly, his confident laugh echoing in the thick air that every guard had been swallowed by. "Aren't they getting a little ahead of themselves? Maybe killing off weaklings has given them some form of confidence." He smashed his hands together. "Guess it's up to us to show them what a real fight means as we tear this demon's skull off his body and send it back to them in a box!"

Neil smiled in spite of himself. Hank and James were his most trusted lieutenants...and it was always in his bleakest moments he was reminded why by their unbending loyalty and power. "Oh, that little demon has no idea what's waiting for him." said Neil. "Call every guard from patrol. He's an assassin; he'll want us to be separated so he can pick us off one by one. There's no point in that, since we know he's coming. We want everyone to be together. We'll all assemble in the rear grounds and wait for this fucker to show up."

Hank and James smiled. Neil never looked like the type who could command, but when every table was against them, every card wrong, only his genius and orders pulled those three out of there. Within five minutes everyone was congregated. Neil picked the shadow of a big oak tree and all his guards formed a circle around him, giving him a respectable space as they turned their back on their boss; nothing was getting to him without going through three walls of guards first.

Far, far above the clouds in the dark twilit sky, a figure was falling. A black overcoat flapping in the wind as the body plummeted to the ground stabbing cloud after cloud as it cut its way back to the earth. A silent comet of death headed straight for a huge New York mansion.

Neil looked around at all the stoic backs of his guards. Hank stuck out like a sore thumb and James bled his aura of arrogance even from the back. He sighed. Now to wait. He sat down on the damp grass, the wet, cold blades nudging him to get back up; he kept his feet under him however, ready to jump up when the moment arrived. His breathing slowed as he focused on the air around him and soon his mind and heart fell into a rhythm of calmness. Every worry in his mind fell away, every emotion replaced, every thought displaced to the back; all that mattered right now was his breath, this calmness, and the alertness of his mind. His meditation was perfect.

Neil continued to breath, his sixth sense pulsating, seeking out any foreign aura of magic throughout the grounds. So far, nothing. The quiet wind delicately picked up as the coldness in nature gripped the world and it gently brushed past his face rustling the big oak tree as it glided. Neil smiled and let his eyes blink for a moment. But as they opened again and realization sliced his heart, a terrifying bolt of shock went through his system as every sense of his body exploded in sheer horror completely decimating the calmness of his mind. He was here! The White Devil was here! Sitting right in front of him, barely three feet away was a young man. He sat in exactly the same pose as Neil, but his eyes were not wide in shock, instead completely calm and closed. Effortless white hair fell over his eyes, glowing with a divine beauty in the moonlight. His face was unnervingly perfect, his features not Japanese, but European. He was dressed completely in black. Black shirt and black pants. A long black overcoat spread under him blooming like a flower of death on the grass. The high collar of the black overcoat wrapped around 3/4ths of his neck like armor. His gloves were different though...they were white; the shade flawlessly matching his flowing silver hair. In the blackness of his entire outfit, the white hands gently placed on his thighs screamed to draw attention. Neil evaluated all this in silence; he couldn't move...he couldn't think. Arima's Black Death was literally sitting across from him; perfectly calm, his eyes closed...as if he too was meditating.

It took Neil every fiber of his being and courage to stop himself from screaming. His mind was on fire, his fortress of calm annihilated within a second; questions and fears started pouring out like a hurricane he couldn't resist. How did he get here? I was ready for him! How did I not see him? How did he get here in the middle without me sensing a thing!? HOW!? Yet the White Devil ignored his fear, and chose instead to sit on the grass with him; silently letting the goddess of air run her fingers through his hair as they gently swayed in the wind. Neil looked around in panic. None of the guards had even noticed that their quarry was already here. They were waiting for a ghost that was already in their midst. Fear started to seep into his veins as it flushed down every sense of his mind.

"So...you're here, huh? The White Devil!" announced Neil loudly, his desperate heart praying that the guards standing not ten feet away from him would notice and respond.

Hank and James turned and recoiled in shock as involuntary screams escaped their throats. "He's here!" screamed Hank in dread. James brought both of his hands up and charged his spell; bright orange discs with a large triangle in the middle and runes floating inside it, glowing brightly from his palms. Every single guard reeled around in confusion and flinched in shock at the spectacle that greeted them; their boss sitting face to face with the White Devil himself.

How did he get here? How did we not sense him!? We should've seen him! What is going on? What is he? Is he even human? How can a human have done this? Is he really the devil? Can we fight him? Can we win? Is this what Death looks like? What is going on!?

Yet the white haired young boy gave them no mercy of answering their dreads or meeting their horrors with expectations. All he did was sit there, and in that demented silence, the fear of his presence gripped every man standing in the damp mansion grounds. However, all the guards were ready, magical spells glowing at their palms; ready to defend their leader from whatever hellspawn this was. That gave Neil reassurance; his thrashing mind quieted a little and he looked at the serene white face, still completely at ease with sixty fire spells aimed right at him.

"You found me awfully quickly...quicker than I had expected." announced Neil. The two sat there, facing each other; none of them making a move. "Arima must have some highly placed sources even so far across the deep ocean to know where I was."

"They do now." said the White Devil, his eyes still closed. His voice was calm, almost airy...yet deep underneath it all was a tone of...arrogance and narcissism? "After all, your father isn't a commoner in this part of the city."

A gasp simultaneously went around the group of guards and Neil stiffened in shock. The Devil still sat perfectly still; a petrifying statue of death right in front of him. "Bullshit..." muttered Neil. "Dad would rather die than sell his own family out..."

"Heh, you're a confused little cockroach, aren't you?" suggested the Devil, the arrogance in his voice rising. "You think the world is so black and white?"

"Dad would never sell me out."

"But he did." said the Devil simply. Neil stared in horror. Did...did his father really? Why would this devil lie? But...it can't be. The Devil seemed to be enjoying the turmoil of misery and confusion that started to bubble in his prey's mind. "There's bigger politics at play here than you think, Ackerman." said The White Devil.

"There is no politics...it's family or not!" shouted Neil savagely. Father...did he really?

"But there is...in your world of nobles, corporations, dukes, lords...there's always politics." said the Devil, his tone simultaneously disgusted yet happy. "Your sister tried to make a sanctioned hit on one of the Arima lieutenants...and she failed. This, by principle, meant that Arima had to make you their enemies for even attempting something like this even though Arima had suffered no losses. The ensuing senseless battles between the two wouldn't have been very productive...or entertaining for me. But..." A thin smile spread across the white haired boy's face. "you then went and finished the job your sister failed to do...you gave us a way into your corporation. Now Arima held the bargaining chip because you'd killed a lieutenant in a rogue assassination." The Devil's smile spread. "Now Arima had a valid reason to retaliate...and so I came. But...death wouldn't be as fun without betrayal. So, I came and went to your father's office, where I offered him two simple choices: I kill him, his sons, his wife, his family, his friends, and everyone he holds dear or ever spoke a word to...then I dismantle his entire organization he built in 30 years...overnight. Or...he becomes subservient to the Arima and becomes their ally...and offers his disobedient son's life in exchange for the mercy." A wide smile spread across his lips now. "Which one do you think he chose?"

"No..."

"Old men are more concerned with legacy than they are with the present...and that's why you know what he chose."

"This is family!" screamed Neil. "I'm his son!"

"But other than that...this arrangement works out for everyone else." said the Devil simply. "The Arima get their revenge on the killer without pointless battles. They also finally gain a footing in New York. Ackerman Corporation may be a very small dot in this city, but before you allowed them in, all the real New York Lords staunchly opposed all attempts to invade NYC. Now, through even your tiny corporation, Arima has a footing here. And Ackerman corp. gets to live, Durst gets to live another day as well. His youngest and brightest son, Daniel, who never had any hope of glory now sits to inherit his father's fortune and expand Ackerman beyond what either of his siblings would've. And...when the guilt of killing his eldest eventually takes hold of Durst as his age rises, I will use that practical mind of his youngest son to dispose of him with no repercussions." The widest smile yet spread on his face. "So, you see, little cockroach, everything will fall in place...I'm just here to set off the chain of events."

Neil collapsed back. Is this how the world's lords thought...was this their view? Such a wide picture on even the smallest event? Is this why I was never suited to inheriting Ackerman...because I could never see all of this? Or...was it just this Devil who thought this way? Schemed so precisely so that nothing he disliked happened...everything according to his calculations...toyed with the world at his mercy?

Suddenly, one spark of hope gleamed in his mind. Neil faced the Devil. "It...is a good plan. And, it should work exactly as you say...everything will fall in place. Ackerman will thrive under Arima, and Arima-clan will start spreading its wings into NYC...with almost no casualties on either side." The White Devil bowed his head with a haunting smile. "But..." Neil continued, loudly. "All of that depends on if you can kill me. All that nice, calculated picture? It will fall apart if you die right here." A smug grin formed on Neil's face. "You really think that you failing and me not dying is so impossible."

"Quiet impossible." said the Devil simply. "You will all die here." Neil stared at the Devil in horror and disgust. The level of conviction in his voice chilled him to the bone. "But..." said the White Devil, raising his hand. "I offer you a chance of redemption. Offer your life to me without resistance, and I will spare the lives of all your men here. Disobey me, and you will die in despair of your decisions."

A nervous laugh escaped Neil's mouth. Was he scared or was he challenging this fiend? There's sixty mages here...does he really think he can win? Does...does he? "Kill him." said Neil quietly. "Gladly!" shouted Hank. "I'll end it in one hit!" His martial art spell dissolved onto his fists making them glow orange and he flew to attack the White Devil as Neil jumped back.

There was a flash. Nobody moved. Neil landed on his feet a few yards away and stared in shock. The White Devil still sat with his eyes closed, but Hank...had stopped moving. Neil stared up at him and utter horror overwhelmed his expression. 2/3rds of Hank's face had literally exploded. The only thing remaining of his face was his lower jaw hanging over a lifeless body. A small fountain of blood spurted on the remains of skull and brains as Hank just stood there for a second...then his body slowly swayed and hit the ground with a loud, dead, thud.

Hank...Hank! Dead? How? What was it? A spell? His punch? Neil's mind was fogging over. He could not get his eyes off the corpse in front of him. In slow motion he saw James screaming.

"Didn't I tell you?" said the White Devil, his voice morphed into a dangerous tone of displeasure. "Disobey me, and you will die in despair? Now you've made your choice."

"Hank!" James screamed. "Hank!" But the lifeless body didn't respond. Overwhelmed by a sudden grief, James screaming in a wild, mournful anger, dived straight for the Devil...he didn't even see the Devil move. Before James could reach him, the White Devil had got to him. There was a horrible sound of bones being squished...and everything was still once more. Neil stared in petrified silence. The white gloved hand of the Devil was literally coming out of James' back. Through the sheer force of his punch, he had punched through James' magical barriers, through his rib cage, and out the other end. With a sickening realization, Neil saw that the White Devil held James' still beating heart in his blood drenched fist. With a smile, he squished the organ and it exploded in a mash of blood. Then in a swift moment of nauseating sound, he pulled his arm out of James' chest. His friend stumbled for a second as his expression drained of color...then the corpse fell to it's knees and keeled over dead. All the White Devil did for a reaction was flick off the blood from his hand in almost an irritable fashion.

Dead. Both of them dead? Just like that...so easily? Neil still couldn't move. All his men screamed and ran towards the Devil who'd killed their brothers-in-arms. Neil wanted to shout...tell them to stop...but he couldn't. Voice wouldn't come to him, his lungs would not give him the luxury of air.

Suddenly, The White Devil's spell glowed. But not on his palms...rather on the very ground everyone was standing on. The black glowing disc was so huge, in fact, it covered the entirety of the sprawling grounds. A six-point star slowly rotating inside along with runes Neil had never seen; a symbol of the spell being alive. Through sheer instinct beaten into him since his birth, Neil lowered his hands and made a shield around him just as the Devil's spell activated. A roaring black fire exploded into existence with a deafening war cry. Screaming as it ravaged the entire grounds of the mansion. It was as if a dark hell had opened up right beneath their feet and the raging flames furiously thundered out, their wild tongues snapping around as they burned anything they touched with an unending vengeance.

Screams. Screams everywhere. Even through the deep concentration of maintaining his shield, Neil heard them screaming...all his men shouting and begging for mercy as they were burned alive. To hear how men can scream, to truly hear his men cry in pain as their very humanity was stripped of them, Neil's mind started to collapse on itself. It's all my fault...my fault...all my fault!

Just as immediately as the fire had stormed into life, it disappeared. A dead silence hung in the twilight. Neil let down his shield and looked around, his heart frozen. Hell greeted him in turn. Patches of the ground were still burning with that hellish black fire, his mansion had collapsed almost completely, the ponds completely vaporized from the heat...and the bodies of his men lay around like burnt mummies; charred to the bone in just a few seconds. Bodies upon bodies lined the grounds...every single man devoid of life. And above all that death Neil saw The White Devil straighten up, his silver hair blowing from the heat of his own fire, his black coat waving behind him like a cape of death, and his eyes...he finally opened his eyes and Neil stared in reverence. His eyes were completely black. Blacker than the night around him, blacker than space...blacker than blackness itself. So black, they seemed to suck any light that dared brush on it. And instead of pupils he had a glowing white six point stars shining inside, raping his very soul.

"The Forbidden Spell..." muttered Neil hollowly. "You...you really are a Demon." The Devil smiled from across the grounds; a horrible, evil smile as it stared right into Neil's eyes. And then he moved. Neil couldn't react; he could not react at all. The Devil's speed so far surpassed him, his body couldn't even register that it had to move. In a moment so short it could not have existed at all, The Devil stood right in front of him. All that distance covered at such inhuman speed, even Neil's magical instinct hadn't been able to see.

Neil's mind stopped...his heart gave up. The difference in power was very apparent here; in that second, everything was clear to him. I cannot beat him...I can not win...whatever hell might await me, if it's away from this devil...it can't be this bad. He saw a dark glow of Demon Magic as The White Devil raised his palm to Neil's chest and a black disc formed on his palm. There was a flash and then...nothing? The Devil turned around on his heel, his coat flying in the wind, and started to walk away, disappearing in the smoke of his hellfire. What? Neil looked down. There was a hole almost as big as his entire chest inside him. Red blood dripping where his organs should've been. He could literally see through himself at the ground behind him. Hehe...that's...funny... Neil's body drained of life and he fell to the ground with a painless thud as his mind started turning black. All that remained was his dead eyes desperately searching for a figure who'd long melted into the night.