Don't need eyes to see... (Closed to Niall)

It was bright and sunny, not noon yet, but soon. The warmth of the sun beamed down, casting it's rays upon Chicago in every nook, cranny and empty alleyway...not that He could see that, let alone anything beyond twelve yards. Sure, he could feel the heat against his hair and his face, but all he could see was a world cursed by darkness, as well as the white walls, ivory chain-link fences, and the chalky, gravel ground beneath his pitch black leather boots. One could surmise that such a unique visionary power could be a blessing, as limited vision was far better than no vision at all. Though he wished he could see more than black and white in a literal sense, the figurative form of such sight was more than plenty, in fact it was down-right logical, if a little despised by the local law enforcement. That however was a small price to pay for a better world.

He, that is "No Name", which he never understood why people called him that. Way back in 1991, he had told in plain freaking English that he had no name, but then for some reason whenever he started cleaning the streets of wherever he was at the time, "No Name struck again!" or "No Name on the prowl!". He did find it slightly amusing when people labeled him as a cold blooded killer, but praised the insipid "do gooders" that captured villains and placed them in jail, as if their definition of justice could be found in comic books like Super Dude, or the Tazmaniac.

To be fair though, he understood a portion of their fear. After all, he had no ears, his eyes, lips and nose were all stitched shut, yet he could hear, speak and see beyond what his body would allow. One guy he had killed mentioned that No Name looked like a walking corpse, and that was an apt description of how the renegade felt every single day. The other part of it came from the fact that he was smart enough to see that shutting iron bars over criminals doesn't stop the bad in the world. Put a rabbid rotweiler in a kennel, they don't tell it "Now think about what you've done!". No, they put it down. That's all that he was doing: putting down bad animals, but just as PETA would bitch and moan about people eating beef, they complained that there were varying levels of bad, and that No Name was being severe by killing anyone performing any form of bad, like slapping a prostitute and calling her a "filthsy peice o' trash, that ain't done worth no fi-fi-fitty dollahs!", which brings us to why he was keeping to the alleyways today...

He arrived in Chicago two days ago, late at night -which made walking around easier without people pointing at the stitches on his face- and before he could find a nice dark area to sleep in, he ends up stumbling upon a drunk who mistook slapping a hooker for seduction, using slurred swear words instead of flattering innuendo, and a shattered beer bottle instead of a knife. Well, just as rock beats scissors, and scissors beat paper, concentrated cuncussive soul energy beats drunken fool standing around in pissed pants holding a shattered bottle of budweiser. In No Name's defence, he had not gotten much rest the previous days prior to the incident, and therefore used a little more energy and effort than he normally did, so while he did in fact mean to kill the poor bastard, he didn't have to use the beam he had fired -which had already blasted a neat little hole through the jerk's ribcage- to then disperse the energy, and then blanket the man's body, which he then used in a manner similar to telekinisis to seperate the drunk's beer-gut from his piss-soaked jeans, naturally splashing blood everywhere, including the face of the hooker.

So, he hadn't gotten much sleep since he arrived either. Always having to move, just in case a cop car comes around the corner, looking for him. However, this alley he soon found lead straight to a dead end, and was moderately hidden behind two buildings, plus the way was a little too narrow for a cop car to enter in, which meant that if he had to escape, he could easily out maneuver a few cops on foot.

"Good a place as any, I suppose..."he thought to himself, making his way toward the concrete wall of the dead end, whereupon he turned his back to, sat down, and slumped his head toward his chest

He just hope he could actually get some sleep this time...or at the very least, maybe not get into a fight with the local thug life. He just needed a break for once.

. Wandering around Chicago, like always. Silus was at his side, the poor little guy wasn’t doing so hot since the whole “Falling out” he had with his father. The little kid just had puffy eyes all the time, pink and blood shot. It wasn’t any way for a kid to be. Niall stopped at a park bench and Silus set himself next to the olde rEthereal, wearing his “security” hoodie that was almost three sizes too big. Niall placed a hand and ran it through Silus’ shaggy brown hair. It was amazing how much Silus was the son of Ouroboros and Sean. Zell was exactly like this when he was little. So…emotionally fragile, so innocent and loving and shy. According to Arianna, Sean was almost the exact same way. Silus looked to Niall questioningly, but Niall only smile, a small tear threatening to show up in his own eyes. He doesn’t know where it came from, but he thought…or rather ‘prayed’. Zell I‘m so sorry… you would have never done this to him. He thought, remembering how he failed to save Zell from becoming Ouroboros oh so long ago.

Silus seemed to catch on and he tried to shrink into his shoulders, he didn’t want to do this…not again. He’d been crying for the past two weeks. Niall pulled the kid in, and wrapped his arms around him and took a deep breath in, trying to be a rock for his little god-child. The kid didn’t hug back, but he really wanted to. He just didn’t want Niall to try and replace his daddy…the one who loved him…or…at least the one he thought loved him. Silus didn’t know anymore. He had never seen Ouroboros so conflicted, part of him was the daddy he knew…and then there was the monster. He couldn’t forget Ouroboros actually losing his mind like that. He lost his mind…he lost control. He even shorted out the Ethereal Well and tyrannically mauled through waves of Imperfects to get to Silus, just to….

Niall rubbed his cheek against Silus’ head, something Ouro did so often. Silus immediately forgot, closed his eyes and let the tears flow. Niall had to wonder…what if he didn’t go against Arianna, what would have happened to Silus if Niall hadn’t gone to the Ethereal Isle? What if Niall hadn’t been there to save Silus? More importantly, what did Aaron, Naes, Brandon, and their mom think of him risking his life to help the son of their enemies. Niall…oddly enough didn’t care…mostly. He only cared about Brandon and Silus right now. Niall took out his smart phone and shot a text to Brandon…this was the first contact he’d have with a Hale in the two weeks since he went against what he was told. He sighed as he punched in the message and peeled himself away from Silus, who quickly rubbed his eyes, trying to act as if he hadn’t been crying.

”It’s nothing to be ashamed of…” Niall said in his thick Irish accent, chuckling a little at how quickly the child tried to hide his crying.

”W-what’s not?” Silus asked, slightly pouting, trying to put a “tough guy” act on. Niall chuckled, it was kinda adorable how the little guy was so…independent, especially for someone who spent their life on their dad’s leg.

”Really dude? I got the marks on my shirt.” Niall said as he ruffled the kids hear again.

”Oh..” Silus said, suddenly realizing that before barely letting out a little laughter. It made Niall happy to see that the kid was at least getting some of his personality back. He looked to Silus and laughed with the kid a little. It finally donned on Niall that the kid hadn’t eaten a friggin thing since he was rescued.

”You hungry yet? You’e still growing kiddo, ya gotta eat or yer gonna get weak.” Niall said. Silus let out a weak little whimper for a moment, wanting to resist, but while his aching heart said no and his mind said no…he body wouldn’t allow him to resist it. Niall too Silus to the same place Brandon took him, the quaint little Italian restaurant. It was lunch, so it was a good price too, but Niall was sure to tip well, since he was now associated with Brandon, and Brandon was just LOVED around there. With their bellies full they stepped out and Niall looked down to his phone…Brandon hadn’t answered him yet. Brandon probably didn’t want anything to do with him…not that Niall could blame him… Niall never really was too much of a catch for him. He knew that from day one…back when he was just an Artificial intelligence.

”Thank you…” Silus finally said it, and instantly everything these past two weeks were worth something. Niall smiled and wrapped an arm around the kid, picking him up and walking with him. Silsu wasn’t used to being caried, it was odd at first, but he sort of liked it, being able to trust someone else to not drop you….but then…he trusted his daddy to not “drop” him either…

Sirens rang out and Niall immediately tensed, noting that they were headed off for trouble. Instantly all of Niall’s enemies sounded off in his head like a goddamn roll call at school. Miss Mechina, the Castor Bitch, Ouroboros, Sean Collin, The Lych, Ailill Hale. Any one of them could be here, causing trouble…well okay, maybe he jkust didn’t trust Ailill… but still…he could HOPE it was him just to make the prick angry and mess with him. Nial grunted as within his stomache there was a violent churning….Dark Ethereal was within him, growing with every malicious thought.

”Silus, will you be okay?” Niall asked. Silus nodded, and Niall set him down by the park. He immediately was cloaked in Etherela light and we was dressed in his Hydraskin prototype and wearing the Mask of Ethereal. He took off, running through the alleyways, and ducking the police as best as he could, meanwhile looking over everywhere there had been blood. It lead one way or another…maybe if he followed it he could find out who was responsible.

For one who's eyes were always closed, No Name often wondered why he had so much trouble falling alseep. He never felt guilty for the people he killed, as they were all more than worthy of their inevitable demise. Still, there were just times that his mind tended to wander off at the most inopertune moments, such as when he tried to drift off to sleep, to fully emulate the stilness of a corpse. Still, his mind began to wander again, wander back to when he first awoke in that deserted house. A house without an owner, broken in by a tresspasser born from the energy of the universe itself. He recalled the strange sensation of being, yet, took careful note at how familiar that house seemed to him. The familiarity reeked of sin. Sticky, black, pulsating, filth ridden sin.....but he didn't destroy a thing in that house. Moving things around with his soul, he took extra care for the items within that house, making sure that nothing shattered. He even made sure that the windows were open when he tried to fire his first cuncussive soul blast, to make sure that nothing would be desintigrated.

Perhaps the house had belonged to someone of pure heart? If that was the case, then maybe his soul was forcing him to take care? So few answers to bring up, yet the questions kept pouring in, just more mental stepping stones for his mind to walk on.

Another thing that bothered him was when he attempted to look in a mirror, or to see his reflection in the surface of water, or the images in a photgraph. Because the surface of these things were flat, his unique sight couldn't produce the images in his mind, and therefore would only show him a blank puddle of water, or a flat surface with no reflection, or even a small peice of paper without an image in it. How he wished that he could see the images within, the echoes of the past.

It seemed that he would worry about such things another day, for his sight began to give away to static, and as such became less clear. His thoughts drifted away, leaving him light headed and his mind blank. Slumber was inevitable. The image of the alley way became distorted, and slowly, bit by bit, the images around him began to vanish. A small smirk appeared on his face only briefly in the corner of his stitched mouth, before the emotion faded and succumbed to the blankness of sleep.

Then, in the distance, came tapping. Tapping that grew louder, and more audible. They were footsteps...someone was coming, but who was coming? A random person taking a short cut? Someone that lost there way? In any case, his mind became alert once more, and the images came flickering back. Clenching his hands into tight fists, No Name allowed the wafting energy of his soul sweep over his body like a billowing, anger fueled fire. With it, he picked himself up from the ground, and positioned himself so that he was standing.

He then crossed his arms over his chest, and waited, with his soul still billowing over his body. If this person was coming after him, then he began to wonder how they were tracking him? A transmitter perhaps? Not likely, he had remained in the shadows for the past few days, and never made social contact with anyone ever. Still, he examined his body for clues, but found nothing. Looking at his black and white surroundings, he really wished that he could at least see other colors. Well, however they were tracking him, he knew that they were going to wish that they had left him alone. That's when he saw him. Whoever this person was, he was brighter than the other things around them. In fact, though it was faint, this person had a bit of color to their energy, although they still seemed like a shade of white. The person in question, at least to No Name, appeared as a very faint bright yellow that pulsed with a white radiance. The stranger wore some sort of mask over their face, so identifying this person visually made it even harder. All evidence pointed to No Name having never met this person.

Still, he felt that he should at least greet the person before him. After all, just because they had a gruesome looking mask like the one the stranger had on, didn't mean that Halloween hadn't come early, so there may not be a need to start blasting just yet.

No Name's soul flickered, and hunkered down, thoughts formed in his head, which his soul transmitted audibly, bringing his words to life. They came out in a dread, wraspy whisper, but still loud enough to be considered a shout,"I'm...going to assume that you're not here to ask directions for the nearest Hot Topic...amiright?"

"You'd be right about that." Niall said, his voice sounded like several voices talking at once, all of them otherworldly and all of them masking over his natural Irish accent. His eyes scanned over this man's stitched over face. Niall would have shuttered, if he weren't so focused on trying to figure out where the source of energy had gone. This man was...different. He didn't have the same aura about him as the one he was following, the one he was following was much different. Niall folded his arms as he tilted his head a little, trying to figure out what the hell was up with this guy. Niall wasn't one for being mean, or making fun of people for scars or deformities...mostly because he was a being made of souls with a soul-devouring arm...but this was a little much for even him to take in still.

    The man looked like Frankenstein, or some emo-punk rendition of it. Black hair styled into a fringe with red streaks dyed into it. His eyes and mouth were sewn shut, and noticing this Niall suddenly froze, wondering how the man was even able to talk at all. Then again, that's no weirder than Niall...a living creature made of dozens of souls. Then again, that was the Ethereal for you. Niall seemed to be observing the creature, trying to discern if it was a threat or not. Living with the Hales tends to make you slightly paranoid. Creatures like demons and death defying cultists aren't exactly foreign to their world... and Niall just so happened to be the most unlucky Irish bastard ever.

     "So... I've spent ten years inside the mind one of the most brilliant scientists in the world...I've danced with demons, seen the face of the supposed 'God', seen Death itself in two bodies, died and came back to life...and you're still the most interesting thing I've seen so far." Niall said, loud enough for the man to hear. Niall began to focus his Ethereal energy into his hands, ready for him to use it upon his faintest whim. If the "man" made one wrong mood he'd need a few more stitches. A light breeze picked up, Niall's glowing eyes still fixated on the strange being before him. What was this creature?

(His hair's gray and black. It was black and red before he became what he is XD)

The odd person just stood there. No doubt he was puzzled as to how No Name was able to see the person, let alone talk with him. While the Rogue feigned indifference by nonchalantly crossing his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall behind him, No Name did his own little examination of the person before him. The person spoke with multiple voices at once, and while they had technology that allowed a person to do just that, No Name could tell that it was something else altogether that allowed the stranger to do what he was doing.

Then there was the energy the stranger gave off. All matter gave off energy, no matter how big or small. No Name had even seen electric energy once with his unique sight, but it still appeared as a shade of white with no other color, yet somehow as he stared at this man, he saw a whole other color, yellow that flickered green. Of course, he seemed to wear odd clothing, but that made little difference to No Name, sense he couldn't tell much about one's clothes anyway, so it didn't really matter like the other things he was picking up from this guy.

After a moment of silence between the two, the stranger finally spoke up. He came off kind of mouthy, talking about dancing with scientists, and coming back to life with two bodies to spare...or something, to be honest No Name had skipped most of what the man said aside from him saying that No Name was the strangest thing he had seen so far.

His soul flickered like a fire once more to bring life to his thoughts, and he pushed himself off of the wall, a smirk on his stitched lips, "That's a fancy way of saying "You're one ugly freak"."

The man before him began to focus energy into his hands, which No Name responded in kind. His soul rolled down his arms, wafting like a fire and ready to be released. The rogue felt a gentle breeze caress his pale skin, and filtered through his hair. His smirk had vanished with the wind.

"Alright, slick. It's obvious you're here for the people I've killed."he said, words dripping with malice and venom,"So, before we do this dance, you should know a few things. I kill stupid people, and goody two-shoes like you who defend them. I don't feel fear, for I have nothing to lose. I have no life, I have no past, and I have no name. I do what I do, and I'm not ashamed of it."

With that, he aimed his right hand at the stranger, ready to throw down at the drop of a hat,"Ladies first, and let it never be said that I ain't a gentlemen."