Contributor: Jacob Henry

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The roar of the beautifully restored engine dies and all goes quiet on the abandoned street. The silence is eerie, not even the usual sound of crickets within earshot can be heard.
Nine deaths all within the past twenty-nine hours, every one with their bodies mangled and broken, but no pattern to speak of. Men, women, and children have all fallen to the brutal murders. The police have no leads. The only evidence of foul play is an unidentifiable smudge of slime in the form of a handprint at every crime scene.
Matt Ramous stares out the window of the old classic car his mentor, Val, helped him restore with some alien modifications. Val is an AI that kept watch over an alien prison filled with thirty-three of the most dangerous prisoners in the known universe. Matt thinks back to when he accidentally released all of the prisoners and how he has been hunting them down ever since with the help of a symbiote created to keep peace within each sector of the galaxies.
The Sithoras, which is the manifestation of the symbiote and Matt’s fusion, feeds Matt information about the remaining prisoners. Dozens of projectors within the car light up and a 3D image of Val forms. The form she chooses is, a friend from Matt’s past that the AI used in order to make Matt more comfortable when they first met. Ever since then Val has used the form.
Matt turns and looks at her, “We believe that this is Freathous.”
“The data would suggest you are correct, however this is unlike… him,” she stumbles over the unfamiliar usage of the earth language. “He appears to be tempting you to some sort of confrontation. I suggest you pull back and wait to track him after he reveals his intentions.”
The Sithoras forms around Matt’s body in the protective suit he has grown so use to wearing, “No, this is the first sign we’ve had in months. He doesn’t get to escape and his victims die for nothing.” The crimson and black mask wraps around his face, “We won’t allow it.”
He steps out of the car and into the chilling night air. He walks down to the middle of the street and pauses, listening to the quiet, hoping for some sign of the alien. Then a deep godlike voice speaks out in a foreign language to humans, but the Sithoras translates.
“Glad to see you got my message,” Freathous says as he steps out of the shadows. His body is small and slender, with arms and legs double the length of an average male but much narrower. His face looks like two horns taken off of a ram and enlarged. The eyes are diamond shaped with a sinister red glow instead of eyeballs. His mouth is a vertical slit and parted horizontally. His skin is by far the most captivating quality, as it is completely black that sparkles, as if his body was forged from the starry sky.
“They were human beings Freathous!” authority and fury rings through Matt’s voice, “you will pay for their spilt blood.”
The alien barks out a laugh that would make an ordinary man’s spine crumble from fear, “I like that you think you have the power to trap me in that prison, Sithoras. It took thirty of your brothers to capture me the last time and that was by a fluke chance.”
“You will not be going back to the prison.”
The boldness of the simple statement causes Freathous to hesitate. The Sithoras and Matt’s voice blend in one roar of anger as he charges the alien. They clash and the battle begins.

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I was raised in Clermont, FL. I've desired sharing my stories with anyone who will listen since I was a small child. In October of 2012, I enrolled to Full Sail University.
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