WRITTEN BY JASON PAVLIK
[CHAPTER I] [CHAPTER II] [CHAPTER III] [CHAPTER IV] [CHAPTER V]
"Ye are of your father the devil, and
  the lusts of your father ye will do."

                                       -St. John 8:44
 
 

"Hey, mister...you dropped something!  Hey, you!"
As these shouts echoed down the dark alley along 42nd street the being in which they were called to didn't even flinch.
"Hey, you in the black...I'm talking to you!  Can you hear me?  I said you dropped something!" 
This time the shape came to a slow halt and just seemed to hover in the blank darkness...like a daemon.  "So, I have," the words sounding more like dark whispers in the utterly silent dimness that surrounded both of them, "What is it?" 
The man looked down at his palm which held the item that he had seen fallen from the thing in front of him about a minute ago, the same item in which he picked up a few seconds later which he intended to return to its owner.  And looking at it now he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. 
It was a skull.
A shiny metal goat skull with two black eye sockets and two crooked wooden horns protruding from each side of its cranium.  It had long sharp teeth all along the top jaw; he saw no bottom jaw. 
It was evil
It was possessed; he could feel it as it burned in his hand.  He could feel the evil emanating from its rigid shape.  He felt the urge to throw it away and run, never to look back, but something made him stay.  Something that wouldn't let go of him, some kind of spell.  A strange vibe was now flowing from the medallion.  He grasped it tighter and tighter, a new sense of excitement flooding his senses.  He hadn't even noticed the daemon in front of him turn around to face him and walk directly in front of him.  The man took one last long look at the skull and with all his might he thrust it into his chest, putting the whole medallion and his fist inside his rib cage. 
He died instantly, but that was just the beginning... 
The dark shadow stood over the bloody pulp that was once a man and stared down with a grin of sheer evil and gratification on his lips.  The sight of death always seemed to amuse him, no matter how many times he had seen it, even when he killed his parents, so long ago in some past life.  A life that was long forgotten, buried in the past with some many other things.  Locked away for no one to see or ever know, dark secrets kept in secrecy under lock and key.
As he hunched down, brushing his long black hair behind his ears revealing his jet-black sideburns, he reached his aged hand into the bloody mass to retrieve what was his.  After a few seconds he pulled his blood stained hand out of the corpse's severed torso and with it the goat skull medallion, which had absolutely no blood on it what so ever.  Rising back up to his original height he placed the shiny ornament of evil back on his belt, where it belonged.  He then proceeded to lick his hand clean of blood and puss, savoring each tasteful droplet as he does with all his victims.  Hunching back down he picked up the decaying bulk, put it over his shoulder and floated down the alley of darkness.  In a matter of seconds he was gone, as if he was never there in the first place, which in its self could be true.  The dark shadow of the night.  The daemon that comes and goes as he pleases.  Being everywhere and nowhere at once.  A true feat by any means and the daemon that Glen Danzig is does as he pleases.
"Keep on rockin' in the free world...
  Keep on rockin' in the free world...
  Keep on rockin' in the free world..."

                                       -Neil Young

"I've seen a million faces,
  and I've rocked them all"

                                       -Bon Jovi
 
 

"Matt?  Can you play the last three bars of that riff again, please?"
"FUCK YOU!  You wanna hear it play it yourself!  I'm sick of this shit, I'm takin' a break."
"Hey!  No one said this was gonna be easy, but you signed the contract, not us, and you owe us a record by next week!"
Without saying anything Matt Schoeff just stared at the producer and that was enough, he got the message.  Those burning evil eyes could bore a hole the size of a fucking sledgehammer right through someone’s rotted corpse.  The guy backed down and Schoeff left the small dingy studio room.  You'd think they would have let him use a bigger studio, like the one Carcass got to use to record their fifth album eleven years ago.  I wasn't like Death Metal was some unknown, feared thing anymore, and Matt Schoeff wasn't your average musician.
Your average musician doesn't sell ten million copies of each of his albums in the first month of its release, he doesn't get to be in the first Death Metal band to ever do the Grammies and win in the first Death Metal category, and he definitely doesn't get to start his own record company.
Schoeff, tired and frustrated as ever, walked down the dimly lit hallway towards the building's exit.  He wanted more than ever to just leave and never come back, but he knew he couldn't.  He had to stay and finish this record, if he didn't the Company would surely sue him.  He'd been up their ass for years and they were looking for any excuse to nail him.
"Just two more songs and I'm finished with this fucker," Shoeff said to himself.  Two more songs and he would be done with the record and his contract and that brought a smile to his hardened face.  He hated the Company and would do anything to get out from under its fist.         By now Matt had turned the corner and was staring at the secretary behind the huge marble reception desk.  She was very small and the desk dwarfed her even more.
"Tell Trey I'll be back in an hour, I need to go have a beer."
The small lady at the service desk looked up from her magazine and quietly mumbled "Yes Mr. Schoeff, but I wouldn't keep Mr. Schuldiner waiting too long.  You know how he gets when he's almost done with a record."
"Yeah, yeah.  An hour", and with that he went up the dark stairwell, his Doc Martins falling heavily upon the concrete steps creating a thunderous echo, and out the front doors.  As he stepped out on the sidewalk and man came running towards him, almost knocking him over, but by the time Matt got his balance the man was already at the edge of the street turning into an alley and calling "Hey mister, you dropped something!"  He paid it no mind and went about his business.
By the time he got to his car his eyes had totally adjusted to the dark of the night.  Schoeff looked around the deserted street, but saw nothing that amused him.  There was no one around but himself.  The pale streetlights cast out an eerie hum that filled the isolated walkway.
Matt reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and retrieved a pack of Marlboro Reds; he'd been smoking Camels until about a week ago.  He really didn't have a reason for switching brands, "probably just needed a change", he thought.  He pulled one of the cigarettes out and put it in his mouth, then he lit it with his Marshall cigarette lighter.  It was a pretty cool lighter, or at least he thought so.  It was in the shape of a Marshall half-stack and to light it you had to flip the head up.
Schoeff stood there for about five minutes, smoking his cigarette and watching an occasional car pass by, he would have smoked in his car but he didn't want the smell to stink it up something awful.  Matt took his last drag and flicked the butt into the street.  He watched as it hit the concrete and sent out an array of glowing orange sparks, like it was a pyro in a Poison concert.  He keyed open the door and before he got in he glanced around the street, for he could have sworn he heard a distant scream, but he heard nothing, nothing at all.  He got in his car and closed the door behind him.  He just sat there with his head laying on the headrest and his hands on the wheel.
"Fuck!  I don't need this shit", he said to himself.  He was right he didn't need any of this.  He was quite capable of recording his own album; hell he'd done it before when he was in Benediction and also when he was in Disincarnate.  He was still amazed that James Murphy even picked him to be on the album, but that was a long time ago.  It seemed that The Company wanted a good producer for this album, enter Trey Azagthoth of Morbid Angel fame.  Even though he turned out a lot of good records he was much better just being in a band, which was definitely the case with this one.  As the past month went by every day seemed to grow longer and longer and the fun had just disappeared.  Matt didn't like the way Trey was mixing the record, but there was really nothing he could do about it, at least right now he couldn't.
Suddenly a loud rapping sound filled the air.  Matt opened his eyes and looked out the window and couldn't believe what he saw.  He had to blink a couple times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
"Dude, what's up?" a tall man with long flowing red hair said.
"Dave?  Dave Mustaine?  Is that you?" Matt called as he rolled down the window.
"Yeah.  I'm finally here.  I'm sorry I took so long, but my..."
"Don't worry about it man, I'm just glad you came.  It's not often that you do these things."
"Yeah, well, when it's Matt Schoeff you just can't say no, no matter what band you’re in."
"Thanks Dave" Schoeff replied, still kind of shocked by the whole thing.  A few weeks ago he had got a hold of Megadeth’s vocalist and guitarist and asked him to do a guest spot on the new record, but at the time Dave had said he'd think about it.  It turned out he did and here he was, standing right outside Matt's car.
"Look, I was just on my way to go get a beer.  There's a cool bar down the street.  You want to come?"
"What do you think?", upon that reply Schoeff opened the passenger door and Dave Mustaine walked around and got in.  They drove down the street to the old bar where they got drunk off their ass and needless to say...they didn't make it back to the studio that night or the day after.
"I will be reborn"
                      -Slayer
 
 
The foul stench was in the air; anyone could smell it, had they been around.  The fact was no one was here, no one at all.  This place had been deserted for years, forgotten and decrepit.  The building stood by itself in the middle of a barren wasteland.  Nothing stood to rival it and there was no life at all, just an old building waiting to fall, but there was something inside. 
Yes, something was definitely inside this carcass of a building.  It sat on the third floor collecting dust in some dark corner, hidden from life, not meant for human eyes and definitely not human hands.  There it sat for years, decades, centuries, it was there forever, untouched and unscathed.  It glimmered and sent off a small insignificant wave of light that for an instant illuminated the dark corner and was then silenced. 
 Still it sat on the old rickety wooden floor as it always had, undisturbed and untouched.  It was a small golden triangle, the size of a fingernail.  One would hardly notice its existence if it wasn't presented to him.  There it sat all alone and evil.  It was evil all right or it wouldn't be here in this broken shell.  To look upon it meant death.  It was all-powerful and all knowing and had a great strength indeed.  It was there for a purpose and it waited and waited.  For it knew of the Second Coming and it waited and waited.  It felt the time closing in and now it was upon it. 
 And still the small golden triangle sat in its dark corner, hidden from humanity.  It sat watching the rats crawling over themselves looking for scraps of food.  It sat and watched as they walked through their own feces.  It sat and watched as they ate themselves and it loved it, every minute of it.  The rats were part of it and it was a part of them.  They were the only other things in the building and the triangle watched them, knowing that some day it would be over.  The rats knew of the triangle but dared not go near it.  They learned over time.  To go near the trinket meant death and they knew this.  They had seen what happened when you strayed close enough to it.  They learned.  They were capable of learning even the smallest thing and the triangle knew and it waited.  The rats formed a bond with the shape in the corner over time, don't fuck with it and it won't fuck with you was the feeling they had, but they were wrong, dead wrong.  The triangle wasn't some helpless piece of metal, it was more.  It could do everything and anything it so desired, but the rats did not know this.  They only lived and died as rats, nothing else, they had no insight.
One of the rats moved.  It was a small rat, a baby rat.  Its fur was no yet long and filthy as the others.  As it waddled along his long pink tail dragged along sliding across the dirt and shit on the floor.  He smelled his way along the wood looking for food, but found nothing but old bones of dead ancestors.  He stood in the middle of the room apart from the other rats, but he had not noticed.  He continued to venture off in his own direction.  His beady black eyes searching the floor for signs of nourishment.  He stopped and stood still for a moment, his nose twitching as he sniffed the stale air that filled the dank room.  He moved his pointy-head from side to side, his thin pink ears stood straight up to the heavens.
He saw it.  It was on the edge of the light near one of the corners.  He smelled it and now he wanted it more than anything else in the world.  It was a huge, five-pound block of Swiss cheese and it smelled great.  He rushed toward the oasis of the dull room with delight in his small beating heart.  For he saw eternity in front of him and nothing else.  He saw life, everlasting life that was poking him in the eye.  It called to him through the misty air like a dream fulfilled. 
He was almost upon it now.  Deep inside he was hoping no one else saw it.  It was his and that was that.  It wasn't meant for anyone else but him.  The others certainly didn't deserve it.  All they did was kill each other eating themselves, but he was different.  He was still young and he wanted that cheese
Yes, the cheese of a thousand cheeses.
"Come on little one, come on.  I'm waiting for you."
Faster and faster the little rat ran, so fast now that his tail was flying through the air, not even touching the ground.
"Come on little rat, come on.  I'm waiting for you."
A couple more seconds and he would be there.  His tiny feet slapping the hard floor as he ran.  His tiny mouth was watering on to the floor leaving little tiny pools of saliva.  He didn't care.  Why should he?  He had cheese.
"Come on little rat, come on.  I'm still waiting for you.  I've been waiting for you for ever and ever and ever."
The rat was there.  It reached its final destination.  He took one gigantic leap and was standing atop the hunk of pale yellow cheese.  There he stood on his hind legs, with his little paws waving through the air.  A sense of gratification inside him.  And now with sudden ferocity filling him up he began to lunge into the cheese, savoring each mouthful, thinking to himself this could last a lifetime. 
As he ate the cheese he looked around him.  He couldn't see much, for he was in the shadows and his black eyes had not yet adjusted to the sudden darkness that was upon him.  Then, a small glimmer of light filled the dark corner in which he was in.  With that light the shadow was illuminated for a split second, but that was all the time that was needed. 
He saw it.  The little rat saw the small golden triangle sitting satanically in the corner beneath him.  In that split second he saw death and knew he had made a mistake.  He dropped the cheese from his mouth and began to move towards the edge of the cheese, but it was too late.  The triangle had lured him over here, away from the others, away from life. 
The corner began to illuminate once more, growing brighter and brighter, and in the seconds that followed something happened, something not seen for eons.  The little rat was hurled backwards through the air towards the trinket.  Closer and closer it flew till it reached the shape and was sucked through the pinhole opening with no trouble and no mess.  Then it was quiet.
The rats went about their business as usual, paying no mind to the happenings of the far corner.  The cheese had vanished, like it was never there and things were normal again, or so they seemed until the triangle moved.
The small golden triangle began to twitch and vibrate against the filthy floor of the building.  Now the rats dropped what they were doing and began to stare at the odd performance.  The trinket was starting to bounce around now and was clanging against the hard wood.  Then it stopped.
The rats sat motionless, just as the triangle was now.  They sat and watched for what seemed like hours, then without notice the trinket spewed out a thick beam of red light that filled the floor, the building, and the wasteland.  Light gushed out of the small triangle like a waterfall flowing upwards.  Then the light turned to blood, thick dark red blood.  It filled the floor and poured out the windows onto the desert floor.
The small golden triangle was alive again and the rats were dead.
"Things not what they used to be
  Missing one inside of me"
                      -Metallica

"Take me down
  To the paradise city
  Where the grass is green
  And the girls are pretty
  Oh, won't you please
  Take me home"
                      -Guns 'n Roses
 
 

"Hey!  Get us another beer over here, bartender!
"Yes, sir"
"Make it a Bud will ya?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Schoeff.  Right away."  And with that the scrawny little man poured two beers for the two men sitting at the bar.
"Thanks, Steve."
Matt Schoeff and Dave Mustaine had been at the bar now for over four hours drinking beer and playing pool.  Matt liked this bar, it was one of his favorites and he told himself he'd have to remember this place.
"So...how's the record coming so far?"
"Oh...so far, so good...SO WHAT!" laughed Matt.  He thought this was rather humorous and the album was one of his favorites.  "No, seriously, it's going O.K., " said Matt wiping something out of his eye, "but me and Chuck just aren't getting along at all.  Whatever he wants I want the exact opposite and what I want he wants the opposite.  He's just not a good producer."
"You know, you should have just done it yourself.  You're not that bad of a producer."
Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing.  First, Dave Mustaine shows up out of the blue to do a guest appearance on the album, and now he's saying he was a good producer.
"Thanks, Dave.  That really means a lot."
Dave turned his head and saw the bartender pouring some drinks.  He really hated the guy and had been giving him a hard time ever since he walked in.  Now, Dave was getting a little drunk, and wanted to have some fun with the man.
"Hey, bartender!  Get over here!" he called.
Steve heard the call, but didn't come.  He knew this guy was gonna fuck with him and he wanted no part of it.  He knew who Dave Mustaine was, a real asshole, especially when he was drunk.
"Hey!  Are you deaf?"
Matt wanted to say something, but couldn't.  He couldn't just tell Dave Mustaine to leave the guy alone.  If it had been some average drunk he would have taken the guy outside and beat the shit out of him, but this was Dave.
Steve had slowly made his way over to the edge of the bar and was standing in front of Megadeth's singer.
"Here's a couple bucks, go get me some cigarettes you little pussy."
"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.  You've had a little too much to drink tonight."
In the next couple of seconds, Dave threw his fist across the bar and biffed the guy square in the nose.  Steve fell to the ground, blood trickling down his face into his mouth.
"YOU LITTLE FUCK!  WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"
Dave was standing now, and everyone in the bar was looking over in their direction.
"What are you all lookin' at?  Huh?"
Matt stood up now and put his hand on Dave's shoulder.
"Look, Dave, maybe we outta get goin'.  It's getting pretty late and things are getting a little outta hand here.  What do ya say?" said Matt, hoping that this would end the little ordeal taking place.
"Fuck, no!  This little punk," Dave pointed to the bloodied bartender, "told me I've had too much to drink and that I better be on my way.  Fuck him!"
By now, two hefty bouncers had made their way over to the scene.  One stood nearly six and a half feet tall, dwarfing the little five and a half footer.  The taller one stepped forward and grabbed Dave's arm above the elbow.
"Is there a problem over here, fucko?"
"No, no problem at all", Matt interjected.  He looked at the bouncers, and then, at Dave and knew that if he didn't get Dave outta here quick these two thugs would beat the hell out of him.  "We were just leaving, right Dave?"
The bouncers looked over to Mustaine, who was now beginning to stagger from all the drinks he'd had.
"Fuck, man...you two think you can just throw me out of a bar?  I'm Dave Mustaine!  I'm in Megadeth!"
"Buddy, I don't care if you are the high king of frangle cheese.  If you don't leave in two seconds me and my buddy here are gonna make you a permanent part of the wall!"
"FUCK YOU!" screamed Dave at the top of his lungs.
Matt hardly saw the bouncers weighty arm fly through the air and belt Dave Mustaine right across the cheekbone, but he did see Dave go sailing backwards into the bar stool, knocking it clean over.
"I warned you", said the bouncer, who was now feeling a sense of gratitude.  The little bouncer, who had just been watching, now bent down and picked the now unconscious Dave off the ground and slung him over his shoulder.  He and the other bouncer then started walking for the front door, with Matt following close behind.  When they reached the door Matt got in front of them and blocked their way.
"All right, I'll take him home guys.  I'm..."
The big bouncer heaved Matt threw the doors with so much force he landed three feet out in the parking lot with the wind knocked out of him.  When he sat up, he saw Dave land a few feet to the left of him.
"Now, I don't want to see you two ever again!  You got it?"  With that the two bouncers turned around and disappeared back into the bar.  Matt gave them the finger.
"Assholes."
Matt got up and looked himself over.  What a mess he was now.  If it hadn't been raining he would have been O.K., but the fronts of his clothes were all soaked and rather messy.  Brushing himself off and cursing under his breath he made his way over to his friend who was now starting to come to.  He looked down and felt a little dizzy.  Thank god he wasn't as drunk as Dave, he thought, or maybe things would have been a lot worse, like they used to be.
"...uuuhhh..."
Yes, Dave was starting to come around, and Matt figured he'd better get him in the car fast, because the last thing he wanted at this point was to fuck with those two bouncers again.  He knelt down and scooped Dave up by the arm and dragged him across the parking lot toward his car.  By the time he reached it, Mustaine was awake.
"Ow!  What the fuck happened, Schoeff?", Dave said as he slowly rubbed the side of his bruised face.
"Dude, you fell off the stool and nailed yourself on my boot.  Don't you remember?"  Matt thought that was probably the quickest lie he ever made up.
Dave turned and looked down at Schoeff's boot then back up at to his clothes.  "How'd you get so dirty?"
Matt let go of Dave's arm and put his hands in his pockets.  "Uh...I fell when I was draggin' you over here.  Your clothes are dirty, too, you know.
Schoeff pointed to Dave's shirt and Mustaine looked down and saw for himself.  "Wow, I'm really drunk."
"Yeah, we'll crash over at my place tonight", uttered Matt as he turned and looked over at a passing car.  It was an old rusty cavalier, like the kind he used to have when he was still in high school, but it was black and not red like his.  How he remembered that car was beyond him.  He hadn't thought of it in over six years, since the accident happened.  He must have just buried the memories somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought.  How he wished he could have done that in the first place, maybe his life would have turned out much different.
"Yeah, O.K., but first stop back over by the studio.  I need to get a few things outta my car."
Schoeff got his composure back and glanced back over at Dave, who looked like he was gonna collapse.  He took his keys out of his pocket and opened the car.  Both of them got in pretty quickly, considering it was raining rather hard and they had been standing out getting drenched.
Matt turned the key in the ignition and the car started up after a few short rumbles.  A few seconds later, they were gone down the road.  It was three thirty in the morning, and both of them were drunk, one more than the other.  Matt didn't think Dave believed the story he made up, but who cares?  He won't remember anything in the morning, nothing at all.
 *     *     *
The shiny black car pulled up to the studio and parked next to a little red convertible.  Dave got out and stumbled over to his car, nearly falling flat on his face a few times.  It was still raining and it hadn't got any better.  He moved to the back of the car and pulled his keys out of his leather jacket and went to unlock his trunk.  Halfway there he dropped them and swore.  Dave picked his keys back up and opened his trunk.  For a few seconds he just stood there gazing into the blackness of his car and then suddenly the trunk light flipped on.  He began rummaging through his things and found what he was looking for.  He pulled out a small handbag and a guitar case, both of which he sat on the ground.  He slammed his truck closed, gathered up his stuff, and walked back over to Matt's car.
Schoeff hadn't been watching Dave, he was concentrating on a couple walking up the street, huddled under an umbrella.  "An umbrella," Matt thought.  That's what he needed.  He'd been meaning to go out and buy one, but never had the time.
The couple had made their way farther up the street and Matt could see it was a man and a woman, boyfriend and girlfriend no doubt.  The man had his arm around the little black haired girl, she looked no more then eighteen, probably a slut, he thought.
"Pop your trunk, dude!"
Dave was in back of the car pounding on the trunk.  Matt hadn't even noticed he was back.  He reached over and opened up the glove compartment.  Immediately a mess poured out onto the seat.
"Fuck!"  Schoeff looked down at the jumble of things sitting on the leather seat.  A brush, a checkbook, an electric shaver, a box of picks, countless pieces of paper, and a photograph.  The last of which Matt picked up.  He held the picture between his thumb and forefinger and raised it into the dim light sent out by the street lamps.  He wondered how it got there in his glove compartment.  He didn't remember putting it in there nor did he want it there, but there it was plain as day and in his hand.
"Come on, man.  Open the trunk, will ya?"
Matt dropped the picture to the floor and reached back over to the open compartment and pressed a little yellow button.  A soft popping noise sounded from behind the car as the trunk opened.  Mustaine tossed his stuff in and slammed it shut.
The rain was beginning to lighten a little and when Dave opened the passenger door it didn't sound as heavy.  Matt looked over at Dave and then at the seat.
"Just throw that shit on the floor", Matt said and Dave did so and fell into the seat.
"How far away is your place for here?", asked Dave.
"Huh?", Matt jolted.  "Oh, about five minutes.  Not too far."
He started the car back up and they backed out of the small parking lot.  Dave leaned his head back and seemed to fall asleep instantly.  Matt looked out the window for one last look around.  He didn't see anything, not even the couple who had walked by a few moments ago.  Perhaps they went into the small motel down the street to have a late night fuck.  Schoeff could just see her straddling the guy, riding him like some kind of horse, and in the morning he'd pay her and that would be the end of it.  "See ya later, baby", he would say as he walked out the door, leaving here laying on the bed.  If all things could be that easy, he wished.
*     *     *
About five minutes passed and they pulled up to a rather large apartment building.  "Pleasant Day Apartments," Matt believed they were called.  He didn't know and didn't care.  He didn't live there, he was just staying there during the recording of the album.  The Company was paying for it all, as they always do, so he didn't mind.
He stopped the car in front of the building, right near the entrance.  He always seemed to get good parking here no matter when he pulled up.  He shut the engine off and pulled the keys out of the ignition.  The car was quiet, except for Dave's snoring, which wasn't too bad.  Schoeff sat back and ran his calloused fingers through his long blond hair, realizing he needed to take a shower.
"Dave!", called Matt as he reached over and shook the man in the next seat.  "Dave we're here.  Wake up."  After a few shakes he figured waking Dave Mustaine was like waking the dead.
"BBBBEEEEEEEEPPPP!!!!"  Matt laid on the horn waking Dave and a few close residents.
"Come on, we're here."  Schoeff opened the door and got out, Dave followed.  The both of them walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk.  By now the rain had completely stopped and it was cool out, almost cold, which was quite odd for a June night in New York.
Dave reached in the trunk and grabbed his bag and guitar and pulled them out.  Schoeff closed his trunk and the two of them walked up the stairs to the front door and entered.  Before the door closed Matt turned and looked back behind him.  He felt something in the damp air, but he couldn't tell what.  He glanced back and forth across the lot, but saw nothing that interested him.
The door closed to the apartment building and the two rock stars had disappeared.  It was four in the morning and the sun would be up soon, bringing warmth and light, but right now it was still dark and the rain had stopped.  A slow mist was coming over the town, and with that mist came evil, for something over in the bushes moved.
"Things not what they used to be
  Missing one inside of me"
                      -Metallica

 
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