Mark Time

Miles hated train stations. From the very entrance to the exit, he hated it down to the core. When he was a kid, he and his mom went to visit someone and the two got separated for days. Miles would never forget that, because that was the first time he saw a daemon, the first time he saw blood, and the fist time he saw someone die.

All because of a train station.

The bloody floor, the scattered carcasses and the scent of iron in the air, it was like that day all over again. This was en route to the shelters, the trains were supposed to take them there. Miles' guess was that either the trains had filled up and left before the daemons attacked or the daemon had attacked before they could leave. Or both. Judging from the train that was a few meters away that was derailed.

And the daemon that was seated calmly beside him.

To the casual, a daemon was a monster. To the inquisitor and shield agent, a daemon was an intelligent monster. But to an aide or prime, a daemon was to be treated as a human. A daemon in its devolved black form was a toddler, ignorant and ready to learn in order to evolve. When they evolved, they became like an adult, having reached the peak where they 'think' they've learnt it all.

But that only applied to daemon that had recently arrived.

Old daemons, from one that had been around for decades to one that had been around for centuries, were also like toddlers, but at the same time like adults. They were experienced, but ever ready to learn, which made them more dangerous.

Owen and Heinrich would have died if they faced this one.

"So, how long are you going to sit there?" Miles finally asked, facing it for the first time since he entered.

The daemon turned to him. It's face was smooth, the exception of the gills on the sides of its face. It had long blades protruding from the elbows and knees, with a fin on its back, with long black claws.

[Did you know that that woman over there took three minutes to expire after having a vestorer shot in her chest?]

"You don't say?"

[Shocking, really. Your species never seems to change, clinging onto each other.]

"I'm surprised you know that much." Miles said, his body crackling with electricity. The daemon rose to its feet and sighed readying itself.

[Shall we dance, then?]

Canberra, Australia,

Neither Sarah nor Dean had seen the daemon, but Claire was bleeding on the side of her face already.. Claire felt the blood trickle down her cheeks as her hand went up, reaching the scar on her forehead. She fell to the ground, trembling with fear. 

Sarah and Dean immediately fell into position, bracing themselves for the worst.

[Do you want to know why I targeted her first] The cold feminine voice called from the dark. The inquisitors grips on their weapons tightened.

[Out of the three of you, she was the one who disgusted me. All pretty and glamorous, not wanting to touch my friends.]

Out of nowhere an object flew at them. Dean grabbed Claire and took her out of harm's way. Sarah turned to see what it was and shuddered. It was an inquisitor, lifeless with a whole carved expertly on his chest.

[But the two of you respected them, especially the girl. So I will play with you.]

Sarah didn't realize it until she saw the look of horror on Dean and Claire's face. She then felt the cold white hands caress her hair and chin.

[Just a little while] The daemon whispered into her ear softly but coldly.

Nuuk, Greenland

Books. Ernst loved them. He loved their texture; from the soft delicate ones to the hard and crusty ones that felt like sandpaper between the fingers, not even mentioning the hard covers that plated these words of wisdom, protecting it from the harshness of this world. He enjoyed the thrill of opening the first page of the book, reading it page by page, acquiring its knowledge; whether tragedy or romance, adventure or horror. 

He also loved the library, entire rows of knowledge just waiting to be opened, waiting to be unleashed into his mind, creating sceneries of beautiful castles or haunting wastelands. The silence that it had, a calming and welcoming atmosphere, where privacy was the order of the day. From the immaculate arrangement of the books in alphabetical order to the categorization of them by genre.

Ernst loved this all, and so to anyone or anything that would dare interrupt this cycle of peace, he swore to delete its presence from the face of the earth, at the cost of his own life.

"Um...Ernst?"

"Y...yeah?" Ernst turned swiftly, "What?"

"The daemon...is already dead."

Ernst turned to the daemon, or what it was before it was ripped apart. "Oh. Oh my." Ernst got up and stretched. "Lets move on then."

The female inquisitor looked at the daemon, horrified. Ernst Dieter was a skilled archer, with his unique homing abilities and eagle eyes that could track enemies from afar, second to Kanon and Kanon only when it came to sheer licht energy power.

But yet she had just seen him rip the daemon apart limp from limp like a feral animal. When Kanon had described him once as a sociopath, she really hadn't taken it to heart. But now, standing here in the ruined library, watching as he stood covered in blood-with the exception of his glasses- flipping through a blood stained book he had just taken from the floor, she now understood more. To be frank, she wished she never knew. 

Ernst placed all the books back in their proper shelves and sighed. "Sorry, but this is the least I can do."

"What?"

"Oh... nothing. Let's go, shall we?"