I've wanted to die. Ever since I was a child. Ever since that day when my home burned down in front of me. When I had to listen to those ungodly sounds.

A semi-athletic man with long luscious white hair, dressed in a suit, nice pants and a trench coat over top was dragged across concrete. He could feel it on his back, the burning sensation that was building. If this continued, he might have gotten hurt…If he was normal.

His callous blue eyes locked on the skull head of the creature. Grabbing the wrist of its bestial arm and making a sudden twisting motion, his entire body leading it.

The bone gave way after mere moments of his attempt, the joint popping then snapping.

When the clawed hand let him go, he kicked out one of its digitigrade legs, turning with his body to take it off its feet. Slamming it into the floor.

He then rolled backwards into a standing position. He put a hand on his neck, leaning his head to the side to crack it.

There were holes in his shirt from where he was grabbed. But no blood, to his frustration.

The same went for his back. The fabric might have been torn, but there was no real injury to speak of.

He let out a sigh of grief. Looking back at what he was fighting.

A large creature that had the arms, legs, and body structure of a beast. The legs ended with paws. And the hands were long and clawed. Its form was brutish in strength. And the head was a skeletal deer with antlers protruding out far and wide.

He watched as it grabbed its arm and snapped it back into place. Letting out an inhuman roar. Saliva was dripping off its pristine white jaw. Salivating at the man that was standing in front of it.

It was a classic Wendigo. Outside of location.

He was about to take a step forward when his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He took it out and answered, putting it to his ear. "Where the hell are you?" He heard from the other end. Edward looked over to the closest street sign that was too far to read. "Can't te-" He was cut off when the Wendigo came at him.

The stomping sound made from it barrelling down on him was the first thing that caught his attention.

He had ample time to dodge or even block for that matter. But he simply didn't.

Its large clawed hand slammed into his ribcage, claws nicking his chest as he flew through the glass of a nearby store.

He was lying on his back on a pile of stuffed animals, his legs propped up at the knees. "What was that!?" He heard yelling from the other end of the call. Raising it back to his ear. "I'm in a kiddie shop. Stuffed animals. Couple streets away from the church."

He started to get up, looking at the three distinct slash marks across his shirt. Still no blood. "Ever been?" He asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

"I know where you are." He heard the voice. Almost like he was ashamed to admit it. Edward then hung up.

He stepped over the broken glass, exiting the store the same way he went in. "Could've broken my phone, jackass." He said putting his device back in his pocket.

The Wendigo lurched down, its hands on the floor as it roared at him. The sound travelled for what sounded like miles. When it had moved low. The image gave a more feral sense. When it was standing. Of course, it came off as more intimidating. But at a lower point, it was purely animalistic.

Its vacant eyes hold on to him with the claws of its hands sinking into the floor. Like a hot knife through butter.

"Yeah, yeah." He said dismissively. "Go back to trying to kill me." Many people would be worried in this situation. But he knew. Based on the previous attacks. That this thing wasn't strong enough to hurt him.

It swiftly obliged his request, the creature rushing in on all fours, keeping that animalistic nature. Its maw opened wide when it was close enough, aiming for his shoulder so that it could tear out a large chunk of flesh.

Edward leaned his head to the side like he was giving it a better opening. But when it bit down. Its teeth failed to penetrate his skin. Even so. That didn't stop it from trying. It yanked its head back multiple times, grabbing his body with more force being put into it. Still nothing.

"Damn it." He thought aloud before he drove his fist into the side of its skull with his right fist since his left side was preoccupied.

The sudden strike and the force behind it knocked it off balance and his shoulder, a crack travelling out from the point of impact.

He then brought his left fist around to strike it in the centre of its skull. Hoping to keep it discombobulated.

It moved to a standing position while stepping backwards, struggling to stay upright. The fact it was now stood made a notable height difference between them. So he would need to go from targeting the head to going for the body.

He started to throw out a slew of attacks, hitting various points to try and find a weak spot, so to speak. But before he could. A large clawed hand wrapped practically around his entire head and pulled him off his feet.

He was slammed into the ground, first on his stomach, then into it again, this time on his back. The concrete cracked under the impact. And then he was tossed away like he weighed as much as a piece of paper.

When he hit the ground in his landing, he wished that was true. The momentum continued to carry him into a roll.

"That." He groaned while moving to one knee, nearly falling over in the attempt. "Hurt." He pushed up to his feet with a wince, catching himself before he fell. Even if he had an insane amount of durability. He could still feel everything that was happening. And frankly being slammed into a road made of concrete. Hurt a lot.

He let his trench coat fall to the floor, rolling up his sleeves to show the symbols lining his arms that moved over his skin so slowly that it appeared like they were completely still.

He extended his right hand out. The symbols tightened on his arm as they started to glow an eery purple. His skin started to split open, blood seeping out of the wounds with red-stained fur poking through.

The muscles on his hands started to contract and then extend. His fingers lengthened with a popping of the joints. His fingernails were pushed forward until they fell out and hit the floor, claws taking their place. All the while he was keeping back his winces of pain.

When the process was done. His arm was completely covered in fur and looked bigger than it was previously. More muscle was added to it. His palm was padded and the claws had a small curve to them.

"Ed!" Edward's eyes were drawn to the voice. A male with short blonde hair who was wearing a black vest over his white dress shirt and white dress pants was standing on a nearby roof. Thus was the typical clothing of the agency.

This was Adam. His partner for the mission. Who the entire time had been trying to catch up with him. Not to say that he was slow. It was simply that they had split up into two separate locations.

"So you finally caught up," Edward said loud enough for him to hear. Adam jumped off the roof and landed next to him. He clutched the handle of his sheathed blade, drawing it out slowly. "I always arrive on time, Mon Ami."

"You aren't French," Edward said with an unamused look on his face. More or less used to this type of nonsense "Sounded cool though didn't it?" Adam asked, his crimson eyes held on the Wendigo. "No," Edward responded in a dead serious voice.

The two of them moved to their respective fighting stances. Adam catches a glimpse of Edward's arm. "Werewolf?" Edward nodded at the question. "Don't go feral on me then."

The two of them rushed forward, Adam rounding the left with Edward rushing down the middle.

The Wendigo looked to Adam, then at Edward. It seemed like it knew by now that it couldn't kill him. Based on the fact it didn't charge head-first back at him. No, instead it seemed like it wanted to render him unconscious.

It raised its arms above its head, about to slam Edward by the head into the floor, luckily just in time both appendages were cut off at the elbows by Adam, who knew that Edward wouldn't have blocked or dodged by himself.

Edward planted his feet on the ground, turning with the fist of his changed arm. An intense power behind it which was then driven into the middle of the Wendigo's chest.

It slid back with the claws digging into the floor, a black liquid, kind of like blood was dripping from the point of impact.

There was a whispering sound coming from it. An unintelligible language lost to time.

It lurched forward with its arms reforming. First, the bones extended out from what was left of the arms, descending further down until the entire structure was made, ending with the bones of the clawed hands.

Then the rest tried to follow suit. Muscles and veins intertwine with the bone, furred skin trying to cover it.

It was so focused on Edward, that it failed to realize what was happening behind it.

Adam placed his blade on his chest, dragging it across. His blood swirled out of the wound and around the blade which he held in front of him with both hands firmly holding the handle, the tip of it pointed to the sky.

The blood warped around him, dancing through the air until it completely clouded over the metal.

He raised the blade above his head and with a single slashing motion, produced a ranged attack of blood that cut through the air with a ferocious bestial nature. Slicing the Wendigo in two.

The two halves fall away from each other as they hit the ground. The black blood spreads outward.

He put the blade back in the sheath, a clicking sound made when the guard made contact with the wood.

He walked over to the corpse with Edward following, his arm back to being human in form. "Not common to see a Wendigo leave the forest," Edward stated.

"Maybe. Or maybe it was trying to take back what was stolen from it." Adam retorted, looking at the city around them. "Nonetheless. We have to bring it back."

Adam and Edward both glanced at each other. "Rock paper scissors?" Adam suggested but got a slap to the back of the head as a response. "Fine." He grabbed the legs of the Wendigo and was forced to drag it back with them. Since Edward carried the last creature they had to kill.

"This was our daily lives. We wait until we get a job. Then we hunt. Sometimes it went like this. No causalities. Most times. Someone ended up dead."

* * * * *

Soon enough, they would get to the agency building. A brick apartment building that went up five stories.

He pushed open the door, Adam dragging in the corpse. Luckily for him. The office was on the first floor. Meaning he could just make a right turn and be where they had to go.

"Hey, gu-" He paused when he saw that only one other member was here. The head of the agency. "Oh. Hey president." Edward followed behind, grabbing one-half of the corpse. Since he knew the president would want to examine it. And plopping it onto the sturdy table in the middle of the room with a thud. Then he got to watch as Adam did the same with more struggle.

Their president was Grace Burns. An intimidating woman with long black hair that went just past the shoulders, wearing a dress shirt with a black tie and a skirt that went just above the knees. Her legs were covered by a black fabric.

"How did it go." She asked walking over to the corpse, leaning one side of it to get a look at its insides. "No one died," Edward said, not wanting to get into the details of it all to avoid possible paperwork.

Adam glanced at him before adding to what was said. "It was in the city. Not the neighbouring forest. Work of the cult maybe?" Edward shot a minor glare his way, then looked back at Grace.

"Hmmm." She kept examining before taking a step back. "No. It's been on our plain for many years now. Maybe hundreds." She turned with her arms crossed, walking to the window of the room, looking out at the street. "This city is a plague." She said, knowing that the Wendigo would have stayed in its forest if not for the city destroying it.

Edward and Adam shared a look between them. This wasn't new. Hell, sometimes they agreed with her. But that sort of thinking was the entire reason the cult in mention existed.

"Did you notice anything else strange?" She said looking back at them. Adam couldn't answer, since he didn't fight the thing until the near end. As for Edward, he did manage to pick up on something. Only now decided to bring it up since Adam already told her about it being in the city. "It didn't use any magick."

Grace walked back to the table, placing her hands on it. "Really?" She asked somewhat amazed, looking down at the corpse. "Maybe its connection to the old realm was weakened."

She paused briefly then asked. "Edward. Can you peel back the skin?"

Edward looked down at the corpse then shrugged and dug his fingers beneath the skin of the Wendigo, tearing one half out of the way in one swift motion and then doing the same with the other.

This left a mostly intact skeletal structure that had some chunks of flesh and spots of red left over.

As for the organs. They were all wrong. None of them looked like they should. They were warped in on themselves or were placed strangely. For a Wendigo that was.

Typically the organs were supposed to be larger and placed around differently from a human. But this wasn't that.

She started to remove the organs, just dropping them on the floor. Eventually finding a black tar substance deep inside the corpse that layered the back portion of its skeleton and inner flesh.

"That's not supposed to be like that." Adam commented, getting a look of 'no shit.' from Edward, which silenced him real quickly.

Grace put a glove over her hand that she grabbed from close by, touching the tar. It clung to the latex, keeping her from moving away. It was like it was alive.

It started to grip down on the latex, becoming more firm. "Edward," Grace said calmly. "A little assistance?" He nodded, changing only his hand so that it was the Wendigo's.

He moved the hand in close, touching the tar which made it leave Grace alone and instead move to him. Though because it recognized him as the Wendigo. It didn't become aggressive. It held onto him with a notable compassion. Like a child would their mother's hand.

"Interesting," Grace said to herself, fully infatuated with what it was. She walked away, grabbing a glass jar which would act, hopefully, as a suitable container for now.

She came close, opening it so Edward could stick his hand in. He started to shift his hand, trying to make the substance get off by choice rather than force. Of course that didn't work.

So Adam had the idea to cut off a piece of the Wendigo corpse. "Give it something to go onto." He said while handing it over.

Edward moved his hand out enough so that he could put the Wendigo piece into the jar, placing his hand close enough for the tar to suddenly jump off. Clutching to the chunk of furred skin.

Without delay, Edward removed himself and the jar was sealed. "Good idea," Edward said, complimenting Adam for having a worthwhile thought.

It only took moments for the flesh to be completely wrapped around. Covered by the tar.

"You two can call it for the day." She said holding up the jar, and examining it closely. "I'm going to research what this is." Grace walked over to the door that led into her office. "Jayla and Russell will be back tomorrow." She added before going into the room and locking the door behind her.

Adam looked at Edward. "She was captivated by that thing right?" Edward looked at his hand, something was feeling off. He watched it start to change back to human. Small black stains on his skin.

His focus was brought back by a concerned hand on his shoulder, Adam in his peripheral vision. "You okay?" Edward looked at him, shaking his head. "Yeah. I just need sleep."

Edward left the office, leaving Adam standing there with his eyes shifting to the corpse in the room.

He sighed and drew his katana. He sliced it into pieces, taking them out back to toss into a metal barrel, setting it on fire.

The smell was horrendous and so was the sound. The creature's warped, garbled roar travelling across the air.

Adam stood there, watching the smoke drift into the sky. It was serene.

He never cared about ending the lives of these creatures. Although they've been here longer than humanity. He knew if they didn't. Then innocent people would be killed.

He sat down on a chair that he pulled over, leaning forward with his sheathed blade in hand. The bottom of it pushes into the dirt. The warmth of the crackling fire caresses his skin.

* * * * *

Edward made his way through his living space. The apartment room wasn't all that spacious. It had the necessities for an apartment. A small kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and living room. But if you put one too many boxes in it. You wouldn't be able to move around comfortably.

He grabbed his tattered shirt and tossed it into the garbage. He had spares so it didn't matter.

He stood in his small kitchen, taking a glass in hand that he filled with water. He moved it to his lips and chugged it down.

His entire body felt cooler as the liquid travelled down his throat. Leaving him with a sense of pure refreshment. Like he hadn't drunk something for days.

He went to the bathroom, his body temperature rising.

He reached in and turned it on, keeping it at the lowest temperature.

He stumbled in, starting to get hit with a wave of dizziness as the ice-cold water poured over him. He put a hand on the wall, trying to keep from falling over.

He looked back to his hand, the black stains had grown in size, now covering large patches of his skin, nearly going past the wrist.

He clutched his arm, his fingers shifting without his control. It was like someone else's hand was attached to his body, doing as it pleased.

His skin started to separate, black blood pouring out from the opening which started to coat the white floor of his shower. It was like a murder scene from a horror movie. The white surface is completely shrouded over.

Flickering images appeared in his mind. Images of a darkened world. The sky was painted red. The moon was like an eye peering down at them.

His eyes clouded over with a greyish hue. Slamming the back of his head into the wall to try and render himself unconscious. But it didn't work. He dropped to his knees. Breathing felt harder like something was coming back up.

"Cease. Your. Parrel." A voice spoke in the back of his mind. Like an intrusive whisper. Or thoughts that weren't his, being pushed in. "The. World. Will. Crumble." Edward drove his fist into the wall, cracking it. "Get out. Of my head."

His head was throbbing, a massive migraine setting in. The light on his ceiling became brighter, the sound of the shower now louder.

"You were chosen. Touched by the old realm. Our mark on your skin." Edward clutched the sides of his head. The voice was becoming more coherent. Learning how to speak to him through his mind.

He looked at the shard of the wall that came loose, taking it in his hand. He pressed it to his temple, trying to drive it in. If there was any time to die, now would be it. "Try as you like. You will not perish, vessel." The voice said, taunting him in a way.

His eyes went black, a memory of the past filling his vision. A house on fire. A boy stood outside in the rain, crying. Screams of agony, mixed with unworldly noises. The memory was clouded over. He couldn't focus on what was happening. What the sounds were. Where they came from. It was like trying to drive through a dense fog, with no end in sight.

Suddenly. He was awake. The sun was rising, and cold water hit his numb skin. He got up, turning off the water. He couldn't remember what happened last night. Looking down at his hand. The black patches are gone.

His attention drifted back to the shower. There was a hole in the wall. A shard on the floor had minor stains of crimson.

He looked in the mirror, turning his head to see a small scar over his left temple that looked like it had been there for years. "How did that..." He looked back at the shard. Just what happened last night?

He dried off and went to his room, getting out of the clothes he passed out in so he could change into fresh clothes. Black pants, a white dress shirt and a jacket over top.

He went over to the door, opened it then locked it behind him.

He stepped down the stairs, heading into the office to see the other two members of the agency had arrived.

Jayla was sitting on one of the desks in the room, one leg draped over the other. She was wearing a full black suit and pants, a coat draped over her, arms out of the sleeves. A red cloth hanging out from her neck.

Her hair was messy and blonde with some strands of hair longer than the rest. But the most prominent feature. Was her eyes that were a captivating silver?

As for Russell. He was a rough-looking man with dark blue eyes. A burned patch on the upper left side of his face. His long brown hair was left unkempt. A small patch of facial hair on his chin. He wore a typical black shirt and cargo pants. A green jacket with fur at the neck overtop.

"Oh hey." Russell leaned back in his chair, giving a wave to Edward, a cigarette hanging by his lips, ready to fall off at any given moment. "Heard about the Wendigo." He looked at the ceiling, the back of his neck resting on the back part of his chair. "Was it just in the middle of the city?"

Edward looked at him, he likely already knew the answer if he had heard about it. But he'd humour the attempt at conversation. Since he just got back, he was one of the less annoying members. "Yeah. It was." He started to walk over to the boss's desk in the main room. Stepping around to open the drawer.

It isn't here? Just where the hell did she put it?

He let out an annoyed huff, raising his foot to push the drawer closed with his foot. Jayla suppressed some laughter, her eyes locking on Edward. "Looking for this?" Her Cheshire grin widened as she held a piece of paper in her hand. Waving it back and forth.

Edward stepped up to her, extending a hand. The two of them share a long-held stare between them. There was so much tension that a single sound could potentially make one of them throw a fist.

That was just how it was between them. They loved getting at each other's throats. Mainly Jayla. But sometimes Edward partook in the petty squabble just to annoy her back.

"What's so important about this?" She asked, her grip on the paper doubling down when Edward went to snatch it. The two of them held it from either end. "That's none of your business." Jayla had a devilish smirk. "Of course, it's my business. You're my friend." She was mocking him.

His hand clenched the paper harder. If the two of them kept at this, the paper would have been torn and the request would have been lost.

The paper was out of their hands and it was now in Russell's. Who was standing just a step or two away from them?

His eyes were tracing the paper, reading the request. "Ah, I get it." His eyes shifted so that he was looking at Edward, who was now holding him by the back of his neck. An action that wouldn't have been taken lightly under normal circumstances. "Here. Take it." He held the paper to the side which was swiftly taken.

"What the fuck was that?" Jayla asked, hopping off the desk and glaring down Edward. It was normal for him to be irritable. But threatening one of them? That was new. "Are you trying to get in trouble with the president dumbass?" She drove an accusatory finger into his chest.

It was easy to see that it wasn't just the president that was the concern here. She was worried too. In her way over this behaviour.

Edward turned and walked out of the office. Not in the mood to get into an argument.

He made sure to leave before either Adam or the president got there to avoid being forced to have someone go with him.

And just what was so important about this request? Well, it wasn't the nature of the request.

There were some sightings of Nightgaunt in the vicinity of the woods.

The Nightgaunts weren't the cause of worry. It was their master. Either they served the Elder God Nodens. Or Outer God Yibb-Tstll.

Neither could cross over. But that didn't mean there wasn't something more grand in play.

The location was the more important factor. The same place as his old home. A cabin in the middle of the woods which by now was a crumbling pile of ash.

No one ever went through the effort to clear the site. Maybe by now, the ashes had drifted to mostly clear it. But the wooden pillars that were still standing wouldn't go away without some struggle.

He had also been worrying about his lost time from last night. And having someone yapping in his ear wouldn't do anything in the department of helping him narrow his mind.

He recalled something. A memory. Not from last night. But from many years ago. When he was a kid.

So this trip down memory lane would serve two purposes. To get away from everyone while he tried to recall the night before. And so he could try to remember the specifics of the day everything changed.

* * * * *

He was standing at the train station, a gust of wind blowing past, a ticket in his hand.

Taking the train was necessary to get there by the end of the day. And it was going to let him get shut-eye in before the start of the assignment.

He first heard the shifting sound of the metal wheels, turning his head to watch it start to slow to a halt in front of him. He got inside and found a seat. He handed his ticket over to the man walking the train.

After that was over with, he shifted how he was sitting on the chairs, his feet now on the one beside him so that he could lay with his back to the wall, his eyes shutting.

He didn't have to worry about missing his stop since by the time they got there. It would have been nighttime.

Before long, he was drifting off into the recesses of sleep.