1 prolougue

The sky was unusually dark that night in the woods, it was a night that one would expect no good to come of. certainly something big was going to happen, as the entire populace of the nearby small country town felt a strange feeling of a sinister intent. Doors were locked, windows shuttered, they knew strange things happen in their town. Around 3:45 in the morning, they started to relax. the witchkng hour was nearly over, ans thus nothing that bad could come in 15 minutes. back out deep in the forest though, there was something definitely coming. A slight up and down movement of the ground, similar to a heartbeat, or perhaps what it truely was. a fist broke through the ground, blackened with char, the skin the texture of basalt. Grasping and digging, the figure of a man slowly pulled himself up out of the hole, which immediately closed itself, as if an organism was healing a wound, leaving the man there in the middle of the woods on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. As he looked up, finally revealing his eyes, one might assume he was a demon, as the very fire of he'll appeared to burn eternally within him.

Meanwhile, the townsfolk, sure that it was all just them going stir crazy, had put the matter to rest. The witching hour was long past at this point, so they figured they would be safe. Fathers went to bed, finally assured of their families security. little did they know, as the light went off in the last house, a dark figure with flaming eyes standing 7 feet tall, with the build to rival any weightlifter, walked slowly into the quiet town. finding no refuge, he walked all the way to the other side, where it was known a blind old witch lived in a cave. as he approached the cave, the witch came out, to meet him, a ending his presence.

"Oh, you poor child, what kinds of things have they done to you."

The man, without reply, just collapsed.

in another place, at the same time, a single man walked down an urban street. It was the time of night where only criminals and gangs were out and about. he walked still, with confidence. this strange figure was easily six four, with a build completely hidden by an old, worn leather jacket. His face was covered by a black cloth worn wrapped around his head. one could see a five man group slowly approach him from behind, obviously wearing the colors of the local dominant gang, the rattlers. They confidently strode up to the man, each carrying a wooden bat, with the leader holding a small pistol. Converging on him, one of the lackeys grabbed the lone figures shoulder and spun him around, backing him against a tree, using the bat to dare him to move.

"gimme all you got fool. and we can all walk away from this shit"

without a word, the figure reached into his pocket, pulling out... a pencil.

"Fuck you man, you think we stupid over here?"

the leader yelled from behind, training his gun on the lone figure. Again, without a word, the figure attacked. in a blur, nearly all of the thugs were dead, the first two had splintered halves of a pencil lodged completely into their chests, piercing their hearts, another two were bludgeoned to death, their own bats, firmly in their death grips, a bat layer beside each one, bloodied. the leader of the group was seated on a bench nearby, unconscious, his body bloodied and bruised, on his body was a note.

Dont blame me for your guys stupid decisions unless you want to join them-- E

When the cops came the next morning. only four bodies were discovered. the fifth person having been picked up by his gang mates after he didn't check in. likewise, the note too was missing.

James walked down the street that afternoon, headed for the local coffee shop. he passed by a gas station and noticed sever people staring at the days paper, looks of shock and horror on their faces, as well as fear. Who was this new upstart gang that would dare take on the rattlers? What would this mean for their safety? these were both questions he could hear whispered among the crowd. Leaning in and grabbing a paper, he couldn't help but have a bit of satisfaction, tinged with regret, the youngest of the group dead was only 20, and he had fallen victim to a pencil.

Quite a distance away, in a smaller town, a young man sat in a chair, staring at the information on his screen. the woman who found the bodies was livestreaming her run through the park. she was a prominent fitness guru, with a small frame, lithe and agile. in the final frames before she cut the streams, it was possible to see the scene of the incident entirely, so naturally, an anonymous viewer saved that clip, and it was spread over the internet. This is what our man was looking at. The news reported it as a clash between at least them and another group of four, but he could see differently. Based on the positions of the bodies, and the directions they were facing, he could tell this was a one man job. also, that one man was obviously unarmed, but for a pencil. Who was this man? that was the question that bugged his mind. he decided resolutely that he would track this man down.