They didn't stand a chance. They didn't have a hope, a dream, a pot to piss in between them.

They'd made a mistake.

There were some things you just didn't do - some words you didn't utter in the company of men that weren't men, but the lurking madness beneath this hell hole they called a city.

They'd made a mistake, you see - they'd made the wrong eyes in the wrong direction, looked at her in a way he didn't care for. Then he came to them, chomping at a bit between teeth that were like saw blades, spinning 'round and 'round in a circle without end.

They'd touched his woman, his property.

As he ripped another to small pieces, he reminded himself that he might want to make it permanent.

No matter - not now.

Nane had flattened herself against the alley wall, a space not quite right - nothing in this town agreed to the geometry and laws of physics that humans often took for granted.

The alley wasn't quite an alley anymore - it was a five and half minute hallway of madness, a carnival ride gone horribly wrong. Now all that really seemed to make sense was the thing that should not have been to begin with, the man - not man - that she curled up next to at night.

The Pharaoh looked like the last bastion of some lost lost civilization, save it wasn't time that had killed them all.

She knew better, now.

It had been him.

He stood over the last, the last that even now couldn't run - could only hold up helpless hands while he gibbered and shrieked, laughed when he thought no one was looking. The madness had spread through him, making everything both beautiful and bile, ideas and thoughts that marched through him like the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade from Hell.

Now, he had nothing left to live for. Now he had nothing left to give.

The thing above him had taken it all away - snatched it from his grasp like a bully stealing sweets.

Black eyes stared down at the sorry sack that was supposed to be a man - it seemed more like swine to him, squealing a prayer to a God that wanted little to do with a would-be rapist.

His gaze devoured him, sucking the sanity from him, sucking it down until the man made nothing more than a wet, sick sound as he gnawed off his own tongue.

And then, only then, did the not-man turn his eyes on his bride, lips peeling away from the glorious white of his teeth, teeth that were too sharp for any man's mouth, and he extended a hand to her - dark like the desert sands he'd crawled out of.

"Come," Nyarlathotep told her, cooed and crooned, letting the worlds drip off the snake that served as his tongue.

"Come back to me, where it is safe."

<3 Tracking...

"Sigh... That is the fourth one this month..." the nurse quietly whispered as she closed the hospital room's door.

Behind the heavy thud of the thick wooden door closing, the sound of horrifying wailing echoed. A rectangular window was designed into the door in order to allow nurses and doctors to observe patients without disturbing their rest. Inside the room, on the rickety bed, sat a crying woman. Her tear stained face was buried in her hands as her husband stood beside her, hugging her shoulders as he tried to console her.

A taller, slender man stood beside the nurse. Young and somewhat dashing in looks but had a strange aurora that surrounded him and alarming, suspicious eyes. He was surprisingly well dressed for a hospital visitor- wearing a personally fitted waistcoat that matched the same smooth, dark black of his pressed slacks and a rounded fedora upon his head, covering his darkened brown hair. A red armband was wrapped around his left upper arm bearing the letters AoM on it. He had his hands in his pockets as he tapped his index finger on the golden pocket watch he carried, "How far along was she?"

The nurse blinked as she thought. Unsure of an answer to give, she gazed down at the hospital charts on her clipboard, "Umm... Seven months."

"And the others?"

"I... I don't know..." she shrugged. "Anywhere from five to eight months. One time a few days before giving birth."

"Nurse Maricela, do you have the records of the miscarriages from all four incidents?" Cypher spoke coldly, as if it were a causal conversation. His ocean blue eyes fixed on the mourning couple inside the room. The nurse walked over to the receptionist desk at his request. As he studied the couple, he could hear the nurse asking for the patient records and the soft sound of shuffling papers. Minutes had passed before she returned to his side with a stack to give his hand.

"These records aren't suppose to be seen," she bitterly said as he took them from her.

He glared at her with annoyance as he stared into her eyes, bloodshot from her late night shifts at the hospital, "Do not tell me how to do my job."

Nurse Maricela huffed back, "Is that how all you government types are? Short, cold, and demanding?"

With his back turned to her, he began to look over the paperwork and waved his hand to motion her away with disagreement, "I am not government, ma'am. Now, please, I have some research to do."

Cypher did not know for sure as to when she left him, but he soon found himself alone in the tight hallway of the tiny, Filipino hospital. It was a very compact hospital only made up of two floors and stretching just a few blocks in width. To him, it was inadequate for proper medical use, but for the village in the midst of an island mountain range, it provided enough for the little use it received. It was not until recently that the rooms began to fill. There was a sudden, unexplainable spike in miscarriages for the area. With such a small population of people, the village was very disturbed with the loss of four births in such a short time span. The officials refused to look into the incident, and a Filipino legend began to spread like a virus throughout the streets. The people feared that they somehow angered a spirit and were now cursed since the doctors could come up with no scientific explanation for the deaths. All the women effected were all healthy and suffered from no physical harm. So it was no surprise that the Agency of Mystery sent in an agent to investigate the possibility of a supernatural phenomenon occurring.

His eyes darted from side to side as he quickly read through all the documents she had given him. Desperately, he tried to make some sort of connection to all the victims. Damnit! he hissed to himself through his teeth. His search had been futile as he found find not logical connection between the women other than them all being from the village and all having been admitted to the same hospital. A result that meant nothing since there were no other villages or hospitals in the area. This makes no sense... Nothing about these women are connected.

Giving up, Cypher looked up from his papers to see the husband stepping out of the room. The two men's eyes met as the husband passed him in the hallway. Neither one spoke for what could be said at a moment like this. "I'm sorry" just would not cut it. The man stopped partly down the hall, gazing at Cypher from over his shoulder. His eyes puffy and red from trying to be a man and not cry in front of his wife, but behind the soreness, his eyes were filled with a deep sorrow and pleading, "People around here they call you the ghost hunter. That is what you do, yes? Hunt ghosts?"

Cypher's eye brow rose in bewilderment, "For lack of a better description, I suppose so. "

"Good," the man bite his lower lip as he said his one, simple word before walking away. It was almost as if the man suspected that something unnatural claimed the life of his child, and he wanted justice for it.

The tension in the air loosened as the man disappeared into the darkness. However, he had left the door to the room open. Through the crack, Cypher could hear the cries of the grieve stricken mother, "The bird.... I should have known.... The bird..[i]Tik tik tik!" To the average person, they would believe the woman had gone mad. Babbling on about nonsense out of sorrow, but to a trained ear, it was the clue he needed.

His eyes widened as he listened in on her sobs. Quickly, he turned and jogged to the receptionist's desk, dropping the pile of papers in his hand. The sheets floated slowly to the ground behind him. He came to a screeching halt as he slammed his hands on the wooden desk and leaned over the counter, "How many of the miscarried mothers have talked about a bird?"

The woman sitting behind the desk had pushed her chair back from being startled by his sudden, abrupt appearance, "Ummm... I believe all of them?"

"Shit!" He exclaimed as he turned away, leaning his back against the hard counter ledge while thinking. An Aswang. How did I not see it before... As he thought, a vision flashed before him. It was of Nurse Maricela's eyes from when the two had their brief dispute. They were an unusual color... An unnatural shade of brown with a hint of red to them... Almost ruby in color, but that was not what stood out in his mind. He could recall seeing his reflection in her eyes but the thing was - his reflection was upside down. He turned his head sideways with his heart racing from anxiety, "When did Nurse Maricela begin working here?

"A month or so ago. Why...?"

"Do you have any current pregnant patients under her care?!"

"Yes. She's just in the room right down the hall. Nurse Maricela just want to check on her for the night but why..."

There was no time to explain or to listen to the rambles of the woman. Cypher now knew the truth behind the miscarriages. The clues had all been there the whole time, but his inexperience with the paranormal blinded him. He knew the text book terms and the qualities of many mythical beings and creatures. He could recite their descriptions but he lacked practice in the field. As he ran at a full sprint down the hall, he hoped he could make it in time.

Bam! He burst into the new room unexpectedly. The patient had let out a blood curling scream but it was not due to Cypher's entrance. Before him and the expecting mother, Nurse Maricela was in the middle of her transformation process as she turned from her daily young woman form to a large, crow. Tik tik tik! She snarled as her beady eyes settled on Cypher, making him her target. He was the true threat. An unborn child and a sickly mother would not be able to stop the aswang from feasting, but a fit man with knowledge about her true form could.

Tik tik tik tik! The aswang spread its wings and flew out the window into the darkened woods that surrounded the hospital. Without hesitation, Cypher followed. Luck for him the window was located on the first floor. The only damage he took was caking his slacks in a fresh coat of dust and mud. Tik tik tik tik! The aswang taunted from the darkness. Tik tik tik tik!

"Clever move, Maricela," he taunted back. "Getting a job at a hospital with a maternity ward. A trusting nurse by day; a hungry monster by night. It was like a buffet wasn't it? Weakened mothers came to you for aid. You lied and said they needed to stay overnight and then you ate their unborn children. You're a sick, bitch."

"Calling the kettle black? Tik tik tik! I could sense the evil from you, too." Her voice echoed through the branches.

"Never said I was the better man."

"Tik tik tik! You are sick, too. Very sick. Tik tik tik!" She was getting close. He could feel her eyes upon him as she hunted him in the night.

Cypher chuckled as he caught glimpse of a house in the distance. He smirked as he started to lead her towards it, "Perhaps I am."

"Tik tik tik! I can fix you. Let me eat you. I can make a new you in your place. Tik tik tik!" Hunger now overtook her voice as she stalked her prey.

He had reached the house and turned the doorknob to discover that the front door was left unlocked. He thought it was unusual but he did not have time to focus on the carelessness of the people living inside. He had foolishly been unprepared to fast the aswang and desperately needed some supplies before being attacked. Inside the house was dark and Cypher did not turn on any lights in order to not wake the home owners. It would be best if they never knew he was ever there. From the opened door, he could see the silhouette of the aswang peering inside, looking for him. It hopped into the living room and followed his scent to the kitchen, where he now stood.

"I don't thin you'd like the taste of me very much," he quietly said as he fumbled around the kitchen. His hands blindly searching the cabinets in the dark.

The aswang laughed in amusement, "Tik tik tik!Why is that? Is that your plea for me to let you live? Tik tik tik! tasting bad?"

"No," he replied as he grasped a cylinder-shaped jar. "It is just...That I am rather salty."

With no hesitation, he turned around while twisting the lid off of the container. He made a swiping motion with his arm as thousands upon thousands of salt crystals flew into the air. Their sparkled in the moonlight that seeped through the kitchen's window. The salt landed upon the aswang, burning its skin. It wailed in agony as it began to flop about in the kitchen attempting to shake the crystals off from its feathers. While it bashed about, Cypher reached for the revolver that he had holstered to his side. Quickly, he pulled it out and cocked it awhile pointing at the screaming aswang.

With a demonic voice, it snarled at him as he towered over it with the revolver pointing downward,"Tik tik tik!You think that can kill me!?"

"I do not think. I know." Coldly he stared at it as he he shot one silver bullet into its chest. The aswang's scream grew more intense as it used the last bit of its energy, trying to escape, knocking over the table and chairs. It collapsed to the follow where its body dissolved into ash on the floor. He lowered his gun as he caught his breath; that was his first extermination since joining the AoM and he knew that there was more to come. As he examined the ash, the lights suddenly turned out. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness upon which he discovered a man wearing pajama bottoms hollering at the mess.

It was now time for Cypher to face the ultimate challenge of the night: Explaining to the home owner what happened to his kitchen.

I love this idea. For my story here, one should listen to this (language warning).

------

She was a killer from the beginning.

It started when she was ten. Killing to survive, for her own selfish reasons she was a murderer, but all that those deaths brought was more pain and yet another death. It made her sick. She was sick at herself and what she had done, but something in her had snapped and made her simply lose it.

It's been eight years since then. More of a murderer now, a psychotic little girl inside and she won't hide it, a psychotic little monster. Not a little monster. A menace, self-destructing and self-loathing, unable to stop this lifelong killing spree even if she killed herself, someone would revive her and make her their little toy. Just like she already is. Like she always was.

Now, she kills indescriminately, she kills the same way you breathe. An old man? Shot in the face. Little girl? Slashed her throat, bled her out. Pregnant mother? Killed her with a machete to the heart, same for the fetus. All at his command. She would do anything for him.

Her saviour, her master and her only friend, her own Hell wrapped in a labcoat and tossed at her to own her and make her believe she was sane, she was doing this for her own good. She loved and loathed him, followed every order to the letter, punctuation, pixel or flowing line of writing. His little robot soldier.

She brings them all back to him, he does his experiments. If she brings back a live one by mistake, she is punished. Living a life of his perfection, she must be perfect for him and she gladly will be. She brings them all back to him. Every last one.

Every last one killed with a smile.

---

Critique, please? :]

<sub>Music

-x-

He could have torn the nonexistent heart from his chest for all the good it would do him. Eloquent speeches came naturally, words that were sweet on the air even if bitter in the mouth, but that didn't do you much good when the one listening had no ear nor mind to listen or understand.

And what was he, anyway?

Nothing, everything, the living image of dichotomy. Maybe more than that, every fiber of his being contradicted itself in one way or another. And maybe that was why he did it, because that was painful, because that hurt.

Because it was so much easier to rip himself apart into three incomplete beings than to try and live with himself, because he was going to curl up and atrophy if he lived within himself one moment longer.
Those two didn't care, those two didn't need to know. What they were made of, never, they were happy to let their days fall into an unending stream of lackadaisical mornings noons and nights.

And him? Well, he would be most solicitous in taking this secret to their grave.</sub>

Before reading, click on this and then play this in the background.

The velvet room had a dreamy appearance as the candles glimmered on the round tables. The red tablecloths reflecting a bloody background onto the crystal glass candle holders as the flames danced. Their soft light flickering. The glass bottles behind the bar twinkled like stars against the rosy oak shelves and glossy mirror behind them.

Inside only a few quiet people sat at their tables, enjoying the silence of the room. A faint patter of rain beating on the windows and roof played in rhythm to the small jazz band that played in the corner. The band was nothing more than a hangover bassist strumming away at the heavy instrument that he slumped over and a single, passionless saxophonist. The bartender leaned against the counter as he began to scrub finger prints of his glasses out of pure boredom, when the front door opened. The bell hanging above it chimed as a sharply dressed man stepped through.

For a moment, Cypher stood at the door examining the room. Taking a personal note of each people located inside. His counted: six. The two musicians, the bartender, a couple of businessmen sharing "fishing trip" stories while smoking Cuban cigars, and one woman dressed in a short, navy blue dress at the bar. A martini in her hand. Her head turned slightly to get a good look at the man; her eyes sparkling in quick admiration at his attractive features. He was tall and slim but yet not lengthy or twiggy, snugly fitted into his two piece suit. His face soft yet mature but with eyes of years of private torture. He caught glimpse of her. Flirtatiously she bit the olive off the toothpick that soaked in her drink, but he seemed unaffected by her antics.

With one hand in his pocket, he approached the bar and rested his free arm on it, "Gin and tonic."

The woman cooed in her seat as she caught a closer glimpse of the strange man. There was no doubt that he was handsome... Possibly wealthy... but yet he seemed to not even notice her. Pouting, she took a sip of her drink while the bartender handed the man his.

He tipped his hat, "Put it on my tab." His eyes turned towards an ebony piano that sat near where the band played. As he took a drink, he pointed towards the piano, "Mind if I have a go at it?"

The bartender shrugged as he went back to cleaning up behind the bar. Cypher pushed away from the bar - turning his back to the woman - as he approached the piano. His fingers caressed the ivory keys. As he sat down on the bench, he sat his glass beside him. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he thought about what to play. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, allowing locked emotions to flow through his arms and fingers as music began to rise from the piano. It seemed as if the music came to him naturally. The song he played sounded haunted. As haunted as the look that lingered on his face. He was smirking. His eyes and lips painting a cynical look as his fingers swiftly moved across the keys.

The woman at the bar sighed in admiration and frustration of his lack of interest. The bartender caught her sigh and replied, "He's just like that."

The woman blinked, "Like what?"

"Cold and uninviting. You're beautiful, dear, by he just stumbles in here and drinks a bit... Messes with that piano... And then stumbles out as discrete as his entrance."

"Who is he? Is it worth leaving my number?"

He shook his head, "All I know is he goes by 'Cypher'. Strange name but he's a strange man. It'd be best if you avoid getting mixed into anything."

The woman blinked again in confusion as she took another glance at him. His charm still hovered around him but the more she stared, the more uneasy she began to feel. A chill ran down her spine. She could tell something was wrong with him; something he seemed to hide. Quickly, she turned away and cowered as the mad pianist continued to play his ghostly tune.