text: (Peaceful Ending) Flynn woke up with a headache. He got hit hard last night. Last night was especially hard, That... thing, it was like it knew what he was going to do before he knew. It looked like a living shadow, but it moved with a fluidity that he’d never seen in a Wraith, and he’d fought a lot of Wraiths. Some were big, some were small, some hit hard, some barely hit at all, but he had taken them down, one by one. Every single one that hit the city, he hit back harder. It wasn’t always easy, sometimes he almost won, but he hadn’t lost yet. Yet. Wait, maybe we should back up, Flynn is a Slayer. Being a Slayer means that you hunt Wraiths, no matter what form they take. Some looked like the creatures of old, like an octopus, or a dragon, others looked like a dinosaur and were the size of a rat. Others looked like an ant and were the size of a skyscraper, but he was a Slayer, meaning he hunted them, regardless of size and shape. Flynn’s people were a race of shapeshifters. The Wraiths were once people, like Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, but they, unlike Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, decided to try to consume the corruption, making them unable to control their abilities, thus turning them into the creatures called Wraiths. The city Flynn protects is called Obroron, city built after the final war. It was 1000 years ago that the war ended, leaving the survivors to get used to the mutation that enabled the ability to shapeshift. Flynn had heard about it in his history class. The war ended with a collision, a meteor that was pushed into the earth by some military that time forgot to remember. The collision killed most of the population, but the survivors soon realized that they had mutated, gained the DNA of most of the surrounding life. It was too much for most of their bodies to handle, resulting in what was known as the Overloaded. The Overloaded became masses of flesh and features. They were a patchwork of extinct creatures. The ones who weren’t overloaded had been mutated to handle the DNA in a way that nobody predicted. Their bodies were able to exchange pieces of DNA at will. Enabling the ability to shapeshift into creatures now extinct. It feels like yesterday that he was recruited to be a Slayer. They were on a search for a small Wraith, but they found him, a small boy alone in an abandoned construction project, halted by a larger Wraith attack the previous month. They found him holding the small Wraith, keeping it, so it didn’t harm anything. It was then that they brought him with them. He was approaching the age of 40, which was generally understood to be the retiring age of a Slayer, which wasn’t a bad thing, retired Slayers stayed in a large house with anything that they could ever want. Food, drink, entertainment, anything that anyone could ever need. He decided to finally get out of bed, get dressed and eat something that wasn’t alive an hour ago. He had been doing a lot of hunting. He opened the door to his apartment, and walked down the hall to the elevator. When he finally got outside, he looked around at the vendors lining the street. “Fresh fruit!!,” one called. “ Savory Beef!!” said another. Flynn eventually decided on the stall that was advertising fresh apples and oranges. “Good morning,” the vendor said, “Want to buy some fruit?” “Sure, what do you have?” asked Flynn. “Well, I have apples and oranges, and in the back, if you want, I have some possibly some more interesting ‘food’ in the back,” the vendor said. “I’ll take two apples and an orange,” Flynn decided. “$3,” the vendor held out his hand As a Slayer, Flynn wasn’t required to pay, but he, unlike most of his colleagues, paid anyway. “Here you go,” Flynn held out the money. “Thank you,” the vendor said and handed Flynn the fruit. And with that, Flynn left to hunt that shadowy Wraith that escaped last night. As he was looking around the market, searching for the Wraith, he saw a wisp of shadow out of the corner of his eye, and turned. The Wraith was floating there, just observing. Watching. Flynn turned to start his pursuit, but it was gone. All that was left was a little pitch black smoke. The Wraith was gone, and Flynn cursed under his breath. That was twice that that thing had gotten away. That was more than most. Whatever that thing was, it was smart, and it wasn’t going to be caught as easily as most. Half a public display of “Look what I can do and you can’t” , as it’s against the rules for most people to transform in public, and half to get away from the crowd, Flynn transformed into a hawk and flew to the nearest rooftop. The nearby people staggered back in surprise, and he laughed to himself. Startling the normal civilians never got old, but he needed to collect his thoughts. He landed on the edge of the roof and transformed back into his normal self. He looked around and jumped a little. The Wraith that he was hunting, the one from last night, it was just floating there next to him. It was within arm's reach, and if it wanted to, it could easily attack and kill him, and he the same, but it was just... there. Not wanting to harm him, if it did, it already would have. Flynn considered trying to land a blow to the creature, but he decided otherwise. They looked at each other for a bit. Flynn and the Wraith. The it looking deep into Flynn’s eyes, and Flynn looked into the glowing sky blue circles that he assumed were its eyes. It was something that had never been done before. A Slayer was meant to kill the Wraiths, and the Wraiths were supposed to attack the Slayers for the thrill of battle. But this one, the very one he fought last night, was the one to strike for defence. It was Flynn who had attacked first, he realized. This thing, he decided its name was Zoe, was a peaceful creature. He reached out, Zoe blinked (teleported a small distance) backwards, away from his outstretched, yet quivering hand. Zoe slowly moved forward, reaching forward with multiple smoky tendrils, pulling itself forward with said tendril, cautiously inspecting Flynn’s hand by feeling it and searching for possible concealed weapons. It decided that Flynn’s hand was safe, and rubbed against Flynn’s hand. Zoe was warm, it didn’t feel like something dangerous. It felt like something that just wanted to live peacefully, but he reminded himself that Wraiths killed dozens of people every 10 years, which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t as many people as time took daily. Zoe looked at Flynn, and purred a noise of fear, as a Slayer ran past, blade drawn, hunting a Wraith that, unlike Zoe, had silently attacked a citizen 2 nights before. They had found the man dead, with a slit in his wrist, with evidence of a Wraith being there at the time of death. It had been assumed that the death was caused by a Wraith, and evidenced by witnesses of a Wraith fleeing the scene. “If you follow me, I’ll show you where nobody will ever find you,” Flynn said to Zoe. Zoe nodded, and prepared for a journey to a shelter. Flynn turned and transformed into the bird he normally chose when flying undercover. He jumped and transformed into a starling, and started the journey to the abandoned bunker that he had found on a Wraith scout a couple years back. It was perfect. It was abandoned, off the radar, and completely fortified. It also had plenty of hiding spaces if something dangerous ever wandered in. There were also plenty of things to eat, with the half-open cans of food, and corpses, human and animal alike. He changed back, and showed Zoe the insides of the bunker. After, Zoe seemed happy, grateful even to be taken to this place of refuge. It chortled happily when it saw the sleeping quarters, and started to assemble a makeshift nest out of the various blankets and sheets of the beds. When they were done exploring the bunker, Flynn waved his goodbyes and flew back to the city as a starling, landing on the same roof that he left from. Just as he was getting to eat an apple that he had left there yesterday, there was a loud crash, and a small building came down. He ditched the apple and went to investigate the wreckage, only to find a large Wraith a the center of the chaos. It looked almost like a large owl, except instead of feathers, it had what looked like blades. Flynn landed on a nearby roof and transformed back into himself. The Wraith spotted him and shrieked. It proceeded to hurl a large chunk of rubble at him. He changed into a mouse and scurried away before the rubble could hit him or his equipment. He changed back and drew his bow. Slayers always carried a set of weapons that helped with the task of killing Wraiths. Flynn’s favorites were his longblade and bow, which fired arrows specially made to hunt Wraiths. They were meant to pierce the hide of a Wraith and inject a tranquilizer, but that was never very effective. Flynn usually just used them to chip away at the Wraith’s life. He fired three arrows, one after another. It didn’t do much, except make it mad. It shrieked again and took to the air. Eyeing him. Flynn smirked. It happened with almost every Wraith capable of flight. After some arrows, it took to the sky and charged, that’s when Flynn drew his longblade and held it up for the Wraith to fly directly into. It was a simple maneuver, but it was often effective. Skewering the Wraith like a shishkebab. It often left Flynn covered in said Wraith’s blood, but that was easily washed off. But this Wraith was different, instead of charging for him, it made a sideways swipe in Flynn’s general direction, and from its wing came large, bladed feathers. Flynn, surprised but alert, just barely managed to dodge the swordlike feathers. He grabbed the part of the feather that is usually attached to the bird and managed to dislodge it from the now rubble roof, and flung it at the Wraith. It tried to avoid the incoming blade that came from the same very beast, but it was too slow. The large feather struck it in the wing, grounding the Wraith. It shrieked in agony and flung another large hunk of rubble in his direction. This time, Flynn was a bit slow and was grazed by the boulder of rubble. He got knocked down from his high vantage point, and started falling. He started to change into an owl, more to confuse his opponent than anything, but he hit a fire escape before he could finish transformation, and immediately change back to a human. He hit the ground and almost blacked out before a small crowd of bystanders revived him with a bucket of water to the face. He managed to get back up and draw his shortsword. He decided that it was his turn to charge. He transformed into a hawk and flew up. Midair, he changed back into himself and drew his bow. He fired four arrows, then turned back into a hawk. He flew towards the beast and right before he got close enough to land a small blow as a hawk, he transformed into himself, drew his longblade and with as much strength as he could muster, brought the blade down on the Wraith’s head. The beast fell to the ground, blade lodged deep in its head. Flynn landed on the ground as a human, bruised up, but otherwise ok. He tried to stand to let the witnesses to the battle know that everything was ok, but before he could, he collapsed from exhaustion. The crowd gathered around, and lifted him up, taking him to the nearest medic. Flynn laid unconscious for almost a week. When he woke up, he wasn’t in the city’s infirmary. He learned later that night that he had been delivered to the infirmary, Zoe had appeared to inspect his condition. On the second night, Zoe came back, but it took Flynn. Flynn woke up in Zoe’s nest, in the sleeping quarters of the bunker, next to the little white Wraith. He tried to sit up, but a black, smoky tendril kept him down. Zoe was watching over him, and making sure that he was ok. Zoe handed him an orange. Flynn gratefully took it, and started to peel it, when Zoe speared the Orange with a tendril, and the peel wilted away, turning to smoke and being absorbed by Zoe. Flynn took a bite of the orange, too hungry to care about how it was a bit mushy. “Thank you,” he said. Zoe bowed what it had for a head and blinked to the doorway before floating away, hopefully getting more food, Flynn thought. After being absent from the city for another week, Flynn was presumed dead, taken by the creatures that he had spent his life hunting. But the truth was, he was living happily with Zoe and the little white Wraith that he had named Gabriel. He sometimes went out for food, stealing bits and pieces from the vendors as a bird or a raccoon, but other than that, he kept to the forest that the bunker was in, gathering fruit, hunting small game, and training a small group of Slayers for the defense of the city. (Aggressive ending) Flynn woke up with a headache. He got hit hard last night. Last night was especially hard, That... thing, it was like it knew what he was going to do before he knew. It looked like a living shadow, but it moved with a fluidity that he’d never seen in a Wraith, and he’d fought a lot of Wraiths. Some were big, some were small, some hit hard, some barely hit at all, but he had taken them down, one by one. Every single one that hit the city, he hit back harder. It wasn’t always easy, sometimes he almost won, but he hadn’t lost yet. Yet. Wait, maybe we should back up, Flynn is a Slayer. Being a Slayer means that you hunt Wraiths, no matter what form they take. Some looked like the creatures of old, like an octopus, or a dragon, others looked like a dinosaur and were the size of a rat. Others looked like an ant and were the size of a skyscraper, but he was a Slayer, meaning he hunted them, regardless of size and shape. Flynn’s people were a race of shapeshifters. The Wraiths were once people, like Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, but they, unlike Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, decided to try to consume the corruption, making them unable to control their abilities, thus turning them into the creatures called Wraiths. The city Flynn protects is called Obroron, city built after the final war. It was 1000 years ago that the war ended, leaving the survivors to get used to the mutation that enabled the ability to shapeshift. Flynn had heard about it in his history class. The war ended with a collision, a meteor that was pushed into the earth by some military that time forgot to remember. The collision killed most of the population, but the survivors soon realized that they had mutated, gained the DNA of most of the surrounding life. It was too much for most of their bodies to handle, resulting in what was known as the Overloaded. The Overloaded became masses of flesh and features. They were a patchwork of extinct creatures. The ones who weren’t overloaded had been mutated to handle the DNA in a way that nobody predicted. Their bodies were able to exchange pieces of DNA at will. Enabling the ability to shapeshift into creatures now extinct. It feels like yesterday that he was recruited to be a Slayer. They were on a search for a small Wraith, but they found him, a small boy alone in an abandoned construction project, halted by a larger Wraith attack the previous month. They found him holding the small Wraith, keeping it, so it didn’t harm anything. It was then that they brought him with them. He was approaching the age of 40, which was generally understood to be the retiring age of a Slayer, which wasn’t a bad thing, retired Slayers stayed in a large house with anything that they could ever want. Food, drink, entertainment, anything that anyone could ever need. He decided to finally get out of bed, get dressed and eat something that wasn’t alive an hour ago. He had been doing a lot of hunting. He opened the door to his apartment, and walked down the hall to the elevator. When he finally got outside, he looked around at the vendors lining the street. “Fresh fruit!!,” one called. “ Savory Beef!!” said another. Flynn eventually decided on the stall that was advertising fresh apples and oranges. “Good morning,” the vendor said, “Want to buy some fruit?” “Sure, what do you have?” asked Flynn. “Well, I have apples and oranges, and in the back, if you want, I have some possibly some more interesting ‘food’ in the back,” the vendor said. “I’ll take two apples and an orange,” Flynn decided. “$3,” the vendor held out his hand As a Slayer, Flynn wasn’t required to pay, but he, unlike most of his colleagues, paid anyway. “Here you go,” Flynn held out the money. “Thank you,” the vendor said and handed Flynn the fruit. And with that, Flynn left to hunt that shadowy Wraith that escaped last night. As he was looking around the market, searching for the Wraith, he saw a wisp of shadow out of the corner of his eye, and turned. The Wraith was floating there, just observing. Watching. Flynn turned to start his pursuit, but it was gone. All that was left was a little pitch black smoke. The Wraith was gone, and Flynn cursed under his breath. That was twice that that thing had gotten away. That was more than most. Whatever that thing was, it was smart, and it wasn’t going to be caught as easily as most. Half a public display of “Look what I can do and you can’t” , as it’s against the rules for most people to transform in public, and half to get away from the crowd, Flynn transformed into a hawk and flew to the nearest rooftop. The nearby people staggered back in surprise, and he laughed to himself. Startling the normal civilians never got old, but he needed to collect his thoughts. He landed on the edge of the roof and transformed back into his normal self. He looked around and jumped a little. The Wraith that he was hunting, the one from last night, it was just floating there next to him. Flynn backed away slowly, drawing his concealed dagger. He threw the small blade at the thing, and the Wraith blinked (teleported a small distance) away. It looked at him and hissed. The Wraith thrust a tendril at him with deadly force, easily enough to impale him, but Flynn transformed into a squirrel and scampered away from the incoming tendril. He jumped up and transformed back into himself. He drew his bow, notched an arrow which, customary to Slayer weaponry, was loaded with poison. He took the shot, and it grazed the side of the beast. No poison was injected, so the arrow only pissed it off, which made the fight that much harder. The Wraith shrieked in anger, and charged at Flynn. He started to roll out of the way, but was just a little too slow, and the creature pinned him down. He tried reaching for his blade, but the Wraith was strong. It kept his arm pinned down, unable to move it. He kicked the thing off him and took off as a hawk. The Wraith chased him, hot on his tail. He stopped suddenly and transformed back into himself. He fell to the road. As he gathered his surroundings, he realized that he was surrounded by average civilians. “Get out of here!!!” he yelled at the crowd. The crowd quickly turned into a flock of assorted birds and flew away, eager to comply as the Wraith hit the ground with a cloud of dust and smoke. One straggler was about to fight the Wraith, or, at least Flynn assumed he was, because before he could do anything, he was impaled by a jet black, smoky tendril. The bystander’s legs buckled as the creature withdrew the tendril from the man’s chest. He fell to the ground, a clean-cut hole in his chest, blood pooling around him. Flynn glared at the Wraith with a look that could’ve struck a man dead, but this thing was no man, it was a Wraith, a dangerous one at that. So Flynn drew his blade for what he knew was going to be the final time. He charged forward, blade outstretched, and managed to hit the Wraith clean in the chest, but he looked down and was unsurprised. He looked at the beast, the last thing he would see, and said something that was later inscribed on his statue. “You might have ended my life, but my stories are far from over,” and with that, the Wraith dissolved into smoke, and Flynn, dying, but satisfied, laid down, and took off all his offensive equipment and ended his career moments before death.