The City Gazette
December 7th, 2250
Bodies Found at City Dam: A Gruesome Discovery
Early yesterday morning, authorities made a chilling discovery at the city dam. Five bodies were found, each one gruesomely mutilated with their hearts missing. The identities of the victims remain unknown at this time, but police have confirmed that the scene was one of extreme violence. Investigators are baffled by the lack of evidence, as no personal belongings or signs of struggle were found near the bodies. The mysterious circumstances surrounding these deaths have sparked fear and outrage in the community, with many questioning whether this is the work of a serial killer or something far more sinister. Authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward as the investigation continues.
Five Years Later
The rain fell in a steady drizzle, turning the cemetery's paths into a slick, muddy mess. The sky was an unbroken blanket of gray, the sun hidden behind thick clouds that seemed to press down on the city.
Among the rows of tombstones, the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves, the only sounds the soft patter of rain and the occasional gust of wind that rustled through the bare branches of the surrounding trees.
Fred stood in front of a cluster of graves, his old leather jacket soaked through, but he didn't seem to notice.
His once fiery hair was now streaked with gray, and his face, lined with years of hard living, was softened by an expression of quiet melancholy. He held a rag in one hand, carefully wiping away the dirt and grime that had accumulated on the headstones over the past year. Each name he uncovered made his heart ache a little more.
"Ren… Jason… Amy… Danny… Sam…" Fred murmured each name as he cleaned their headstones, his voice rough with emotion. "Five years… can't believe it's been that long."
Once the headstones were clean, Fred reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey. He uncapped it, the familiar scent of alcohol mixing with the earthy smell of the cemetery. With a practiced hand, he poured five shots, placing each one on top of a headstone.
"Well, I didn't forget you kids… I even still got your instruments in the storage room," Fred said, his voice cracking slightly as he placed the last shot glass on Ren's grave. The rainwater mixed with the whiskey, causing it to overflow and spill down the sides of the glass like tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more. I'm sorry…"
He stood there for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the graves of the band he had once thought of as family. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned and made his way out of the cemetery, his footsteps slow and heavy.
As Fred disappeared from view, the cemetery returned to its lonely silence, the rain still falling in a relentless drizzle. But something was stirring beneath the earth. Ren's grave, which had lain undisturbed for five long years, began to shift.
The dirt shifted and cracked, small clumps of earth rolling down the sides of the grave as something below began to claw its way up.
A pale, mud-covered hand broke through the surface, fingers curling and digging into the wet earth as it struggled to pull itself free. Slowly, agonizingly, the rest of the body emerged—a figure drenched in mud and rain, gasping for air as if taking its first breath. It was Ren, his body trembling with the effort as he dragged himself out of the grave, collapsing onto the cold, wet ground.
Ren lay there for a moment, his chest heaving as he gulped in the damp, heavy air. The rain washed away the mud from his face, revealing the familiar features that had been buried for half a decade.
His blue hair, now matted and tangled, still clung stubbornly to its pink streaks, though they were dulled by the years. His leather jacket, though tattered and worn, still clung to his body, a reminder of the life he once lived.
As he lay there, trying to make sense of what had just happened, a sound reached his ears—a soft, almost imperceptible noise that stood out against the constant patter of the rain.
"Meow."
Ren turned his head slowly, his vision blurry and unfocused. Standing on top of his tombstone, staring down at him with unnervingly intelligent eyes, was a black cat. But this was no ordinary cat—its eyes were like miniature galaxies, swirling with stars and cosmic light, as if the entire universe was contained within those feline orbs.
The cat moved with an eerie grace, its sleek body perfectly balanced on the narrow stone, its gaze locked onto Ren with a knowing intensity.
The cat sat down, curling its tail around its paws, and continued to watch Ren with an air of casual authority. "Get up," it said, the voice deep and resonant, echoing through the cemetery with an almost otherworldly power.
Ren's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared up at the cat. "Did you… did you just speak?" he asked, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, still trembling from the shock of being back among the living.
"Yes," the cat replied, its tone matter-of-fact, as if talking was the most natural thing in the world.
Ren blinked, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening. "What the hell… I must be high out of my mind right now. This is crazy."
The cat tilted its head slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in its star-filled eyes. "And you just came back from the dead. Isn't that crazy? But a cat talking is what's throwing you off?"
"Dead?" Ren repeated, his voice weak and uncertain. The word sent a chill down his spine, as if the reality of it hadn't fully settled in. "What do you mean, dead?"
"Yes," the cat said, its tone growing more serious. "Dead, as in you died, and you've been dead for the past five years. Don't you remember anything?"
Ren's mind reeled, struggling to piece together the fragmented memories that were slowly creeping back into his consciousness. Flashes of his last moments played out in his mind—the fight with the creature, the screams of his bandmates, Delylah's final, terrified expression. He remembered the searing pain, the blood, the darkness that had swallowed him whole.
He staggered to his feet, his legs shaking, as the rain continued to pour down on him. His hands were trembling as he reached up to touch his chest, half-expecting to find the wounds that had killed him.
But there was nothing—no blood, no gaping hole where his heart should be. Just smooth skin, unmarred by the violence that had ended his life.
"I… I remember…" Ren whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I was… I was killed… they were all killed…"
### Chapter 3: Resurrection (Continued)
"I… I remember…" Ren whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of it all. "I was… I was killed… they were all killed…"
"Yes, indeed, my little Ren," the cat purred, its voice dripping with a mix of mockery and familiarity.
Ren's eyes snapped to the cat, the confusion and shock still clouding his mind. "Wait, who are you?!" he demanded, his voice breaking as he fell to his knees, clutching at his head as the memories came crashing back, stinging his thoughts with their painful clarity.
The cat's tail wagged slowly from side to side, its tone as playful as its movements. "You mean you don't remember? It is I, the number before one, the same as nothing."
"What are you talking about?" Ren's voice was strained, desperate as he begged, "Can you please just tell me what is going on?"
The cat sighed theatrically, a look of exaggerated disappointment crossing its otherworldly features. "You're no fun. I thought you were a badass, the smoothest guy on this planet. But fine, let me refresh your memory."
With a graceful leap, the cat jumped down from the tombstone and placed its paw on Ren's head. The moment its paw made contact, Ren felt a surge of energy—a burst of ancient, cosmic power—that shot through him like a bolt of lightning, straight to his forehead. His memories, once fragmented and hazy, suddenly sharpened with painful clarity. He saw everything—the night they died, the terror in his friends' eyes, the gruesome way their lives were taken. He remembered the moment of his own death, the darkness that followed, an endless void where nothing existed but the cold, inky blackness.
And then, a new memory surfaced, one that had been buried deep in the recesses of his mind.
Ren was standing on a dock, ancient and creaky, stretching out into an endless sea of black nothingness. The wood beneath his feet groaned with age, and the air was thick with an eerie silence, as if the entire world had been swallowed by the void. He watched as a small boat appeared from the darkness, a lone figure rowing it toward the dock. The figure was tall, impossibly tall, with long arms that moved with slow, patient grace. In one hand, it held a lantern that cast an eerie green light over the water, and as the boat drew closer, Ren could see the figure's eyes—glowing, unnatural, a sickly shade of green that pierced through the darkness.
Despite every instinct telling him to run, Ren found himself walking to the edge of the dock, his body moving on its own accord. The boat reached the dock, the figure still and silent as it looked at Ren with those unsettling eyes. There was something ancient about this being, something that whispered of the infinite voids between the stars, of secrets lost to the eons.
Without a word, Ren stepped into the boat and sat down, his eyes never leaving the figure's face. It looked almost human, but Ren knew better. This was no man. The figure took its seat across from Ren, its long, skeletal hands gripping the oars as it began to row into the darkness, the lantern's light casting strange shadows on its face. As they moved, the figure's features became clearer, more defined—a sharp grin, skin that seemed to stretch too tightly over its bones, and an unsettling aura that made Ren's skin crawl.
"Where am I? And who are you?" Ren asked, his voice trembling as he stared into the figure's glowing eyes.
"It is I, the number before one, the same as nothing," the figure replied, its voice a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to echo in the vast emptiness around them. "This is the passage before the road, the destination before the path."
Ren blinked, confusion knotting his brow. "Okay, dude, I don't get it. Why do you weirdos always gotta say weird cryptic shit like that? Can't you see I'm already confused as it is?"
The figure paused, then threw back its head and laughed—a deep, booming sound that filled the void, shaking the very air around them. "You humans are really fun to play with," it said, amusement dripping from its words.
Suddenly, the figure snapped its fingers, and the boat, the dock, the endless black void—all of it vanished in an instant. Ren found himself sitting in a luxurious leather chair, floating in the middle of an endless expanse of space. All around him, stars and planets—some familiar, others impossibly alien—drifted lazily through the cosmos, their light bathing him in an ethereal glow.
"What the fuck is going on?" Ren muttered, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of the impossible scene before him.
From the void, a new figure appeared—a tall, hooded man carrying a massive scythe, his presence exuding an aura of power and authority. He moved with an unnatural grace, his steps silent as he approached Ren. The hooded figure stopped a few feet away, and with a deliberate motion, he lowered his hood. Beneath it was a devilishly handsome man, his features too perfect to be real, his skin as pale as snow. His hair was white as bone, contrasting sharply with the blackness of space, and his eyes—glowing the same unsettling green as the figure from the boat—gleamed with a mixture of mischief and danger.
"The other setting was no fun, was it?" the man said, his voice smooth and rich, like velvet over steel. "You humans seem to like the whole boat ride to the afterlife kind of thing."
Ren stared at the man, his confusion giving way to a mix of anger and fear. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
The man smiled, a sharp, predatory grin that sent a shiver down Ren's spine. "I am the number before one, the same as nothing," he said, his tone teasing, as if enjoying Ren's frustration. "But you can call me Zero. In your world, you would know me as the Grim Reaper."
"Death?" Ren replied, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to process the information.
Zero shook his head, still smiling. "No, not death. I bring you after you die, but I am not death. Think of me as the middleman—the one who guides you to whatever comes next. I don't deal in the dirty business of dying. That's too icky for my taste."
Ren looked around, still struggling to understand. "So where are you bringing me? To the afterlife?"
Zero's grin widened, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes. "Not quite. You see, I have a proposition for you."
Ren's brow furrowed in confusion. "A proposition? Like what?"
Zero began to pace slowly around Ren's floating chair, his movements fluid and precise. "You see, Ren, I'm a busy, busy man. And your planet is currently being invaded by some rather unsavory interdimensional creatures—Voiders, they're called. Nasty things. They're causing quite a mess, starting with you and your unfortunate friends."
Ren's jaw tightened as Zero mentioned his friends, the memory of their deaths still fresh in his mind. "Voiders? What the hell are those?"
Zero stopped pacing, his expression turning serious. "Voiders are creatures from another dimension. They slip into your world, take over human hosts, and live out their lives in plain sight. But they have a nasty habit of feeding on human hearts—tisk, tisk," he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
"And what do I have to do with this?" Ren asked, his voice edged with suspicion.
Zero's grin returned, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Well, I need someone to go back down there and kick some interdimensional monster ass. And that someone is you. But there's a slight catch—it has to be done in five years' time. You see, there are certain laws of the cosmos that even I must adhere to. Time, space, all that jazz. So, I could only bring you back five years after your death. You know, law of the cosmos stuff… I wouldn't expect you to understand."
Ren's head was spinning, the sheer absurdity of it all making it hard to think straight. "So, let me get this straight," he said slowly, trying to piece it all together. "You want me to go back to Earth and fight these things—these Voiders—and in exchange, I get to live again?"
"Bingo," Zero said, snapping his fingers as if Ren had just solved a difficult puzzle. "Of course, you'll be a little different than before. You'll have some new… talents, let's say. But don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."
Ren stared at Zero, his mind racing with a thousand questions, but one stood out above the rest. "And what happens if I refuse?"
Zero's smile faded slightly, his expression growing cold. "You don't want to know the answer to that, Ren. Trust me."
Ren swallowed hard, his hands clenching the arms of the leather chair as he tried to process everything. This was insane—impossible—but the memories of his death, the sight of his friends lying dead around him, burned in his mind, pushing him toward the only choice he could make.
"Alright," Ren said, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at him. "I'll do it. I'll take your deal."
Zero's grin returned, wider and more sinister than before. "Good choice, Ren. Now, let's get you back where you belong."
As soon as the words left Zero's lips, Ren felt a sudden, disorienting pull, as if the entire universe had shifted around him. The stars and planets that had been floating around him blurred, spinning faster and faster until they became nothing but streaks of light.
The leather chair beneath him vanished, and for a moment, Ren felt like he was falling through an endless void, weightless and powerless.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the sensation stopped. Ren hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, the cold, wet earth beneath him shocking his senses back to life. The rain was still falling, a steady downpour that soaked him to the bone.