Close Encounters

"The stars are like a gateway into the imagination - from the depths of space mankind can see his greatest dreams as well as confront his darkest nightmares..

for in the vast expanse of infinity a man is made aware of how truly insignificant he is in the cosmic scheme of things..

indeed our own planet, a small and humble little speck, is microscopic in the great picture..

yet time and time again it seems the battle for the survival of the entire cosmos is played out upon the surface of this worthless little rock..

some would say this proves that Earth plays a great and unquestionable role in the running of existence..

some would argue it only proves mankind has yet to truly face the truth behind the stars..

which is right and which is wrong, we may ask?

perhaps neither.. perhaps the truth is a little bit of both..

the question is: will the truth set us free or shall it at long last destroy us all? "

Chapter 1
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary.. how does your garden grow? with silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row.." sang the chorus of a well-known nursery rhyme as a group of children ran around the streets of a rural village - the sun beginning to set as they continued to play without a care in the world.

The children continued to run around singing that same nursery rhyme as a young man walked into the village, his appearance scruffy at best - much of his facial features covered by a thick beard while his eyes betray a lack of sleep, he walks slowly and looks around at the children with a few glances before making his way further into the village.

Michel Deuce, more commonly refered to as "Night Owl", was a stranger in these remote parts and he was already aware of the looks he was receiving from a few adults who sat on their lawns - the older residents obviously distrustful of anything new and looking as if they were ready to form a lynch mob at any point.

Michel didn't let the hostility get to him, he was used to such reactions in the "dark corners" of the world - after several wars and the rise of occult and mutation amongst many other superhuman phenomena many parts of the world had reverted to superstition and fear: Michel didn't really blame them either.. these were dangerous times.

Instead Michel made his way over to the local graveyard and made his way inside, away from the locals - sitting down by a grave he simply waited.. as if knowing something was about to happen.. he knew from experience that often the best way to track down the unexplained was to simply let it come to him..

Quite suddenly, a melodious, yet slightly haunting singing voice began to resound in the graveyard. The enchanting voice came from a golden-haired girl who appeared to be in her early teens:

"Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements

You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martins

When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey

When I grow rich say, the bells of Shoreditch

When will that be, say the bells of Stepney

I'm sure I don't know, says the great bell at Bow

Here comes a candle to light you to bed

Here comes a chopper to chop off your head..."

Michel simply smirked as he leaned against the gravestone - watching the girl, his talent for finding the unusual not seeming to fail him - he listens to the song and has already began to formulate several possibilities in his mind as to who or what the girl may be.

"Chip, chop, chip, chop... the last man's dead..." the girl sings, finishing her song on an eerie note, stopping and resting her hands on a nearby gravestone. She looked up at the murky sky, appearing oblivious to her surroundings. Her golden eyes didn't blink once.

Michel coughed slightly to get the girl's attention - still leaning back.

The girl looks at him with piercing golden eyes, but says nothing.

"..nice eyes.. you're not human.. not even mutants have golden eyes.. that's more a Terral thing.." Michel notes.

"Just the half-bloods and pure-bloods." the girl said.

"..oh.. I see.. you guys still believe in racial purity and all that jazz? ..interesting.. to each their own.." Michel replies.

"No... my race is virtually extinct." the girl said. "That's what Master tells me, anyway..."