<strong>Biker Alley</strong><br/><br/>The three bikers were working fast, going above and beyond the normal call of roughing someone up.  If they didn't slow down, the man in rags was surely going to die.  Yet a terrible smile could still be seen on his face, nearly hidden by the shadows and torn hood of his ragged jacket.<br/><br/>The man with a chain looked up in shock to see another face coming into the alley, his demeanor shifting notably to terror.  "What are you, crazy?" he yelled, making significantly more noise than any mugger would be prone to.  "Run!  Run before it-"<br/><br/>The world seemed to go into slow motion, tearing away like a flash of insight, or a piece of the world that had never before been visible suddenly snapping into crystal focus.  Although the bikers stayed the same, the man in rags started to glow a sickening crimson.  The illumination revealed his smile: he was dead, long dead by the looks of things, and that smile was because most of his face had been rotted away to leave a rictus grin.  The poster seemed to change, from the corner of the eye, if only for a moment, reading<strong>"They Need Your Help"</strong>with the child's pleading stare suddenly appearing to be directed at the firefighter.<br/><br/>The crimson glow forced its way from the corpse in rags into the biker who was holding the thing to the wall.  Black fire suddenly enveloped the biker, coruscating through him with unnatural fervor and forcing him to drop the creature.  It only took a moment, and wouldn't have even been visible had time itself not snapped about for a moment, but the biker was clearly dead before he hit the ground.  Now only ashes and smoking bones remained, forcing the two to redouble their efforts on trying to beat it to pulp.