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Room 13.5 doesn’t show up on the normal registry. It doesn’t show up on the blueprint, and it doesn’t even show up in the numbering. To get to 13.5 you have to be looking for 13.5. This is exactly the way Khane likes it, the fewer people that can find him sleeping, the better off he is. The room is near the center of the building, and has the four view-screens set to monitor the hallway outside his room, the front lobby, and the two elevators. The door has been re-enforced with bullet-proof everything, and there is an escape hatch where the closet once was. Other than that, and the med-station in the bathroom, this room is fairly ordinary Clothes strewn here and there, posters up on the walls, unmade bed... just your average dorm room... inhabited by a born, bread, and beset psycho killer for hire.

Khane woke groggily from his sleep and looked around the room, deciding that the first thing he was going to do when he had some time, was go down to the mall and buy himself a coffee maker for this room, so he could get some without having to get dressed. He rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, starting to shower off and plan his day out.

Khane came walking up to the door to his dorm room, opening it and spinning in gracefully. He plopped Erica down on the bed, locked the door and flipped out the lights, setting the screens to dim, leaving the entire room completely dark. If one were to stand outside the room at this point, and listen in, they would be thoroughly disturbed.

Khane lay flat on his back under the sheets, the covers had been kicked off a long time ago, and the lights were now back on. He had a lit smoke in his hand and had given a chocolate-bar to Erica. The screens were back on. He inhaled a large lungful of nicotine, and sighed out heavily... that was good.

Khane wrapped an arm around her shoulder... hugging her to his chest tightly as he though of the events to come. He was going to be a father and a husband, which one came first only time will tell, but regardless he was going to end up both. He was going to have a son or daughter... something like him. He would have to name him, raise him, care for him...or for that matter her. He sighed, trying to think of what a father did... he never had a father himself, the closest thing he had was a group of scientists and an incubation tube... He took a deep puff of his death-stick and exhaled, hugging Erica close to him. Regardless of what he knew, and what would happen, he was going ot protect both of them, even if it cost him his life.

Khane gave one final squeeze and rolled out of bed, walking across the myriad of clothes and weapons scattering the floor between the bed and the bathroom. He pushed the door open and climbed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it would go and curling up in the basin, letting the water wash over him. He drifted into sleep and he was sitting in a dark room with a single light. In this light was a table with two chairs facing opposite each other, and a tall glass of water. He sat down at the table and looked at the water. It was blue in the glass, like a deep ocean. He looked at it for a little while, trying ot determine if the water was that colour, or if it was the glass it's self. He looked up into his own eyes staring back at him from across the table. He was sitting in the other chair it seemed, but there was something different about this other him... it might have been the snow white dove wings and the halo, but he wasn't sure. He looked confused and figured that whatever was going on he was safe, so he picked up the glass and took a long drink.

The water was ice cold, refreshing, and had a hint of mint flavoring in it. He put the glass back down, and as it turned out the glass was tinted bright red. He picked the glass back up and looked it over, swirling the liquid around inside it. Whatever the colour of the liquid, when combined with the bright red of the glass it turned to deep ocean blue. He shrugged and drained the glass, looking up at his be winged and be haloed self, who grinned pleasantly and began to speak.

"Now that you've amused yourself let's get down to business, I know how you like to cut the formalities and get straight to the issue of things. I am your soul, and you are my body. Because of the intervention of your creators, I was not allowed to enter your body upon your more than unusual conception. Now if you will simply follow procedure and allow me to bond with you, we can have this whole unfortunate mess sorted out."

Khane looked himself square in the eye. He was kidding right? This was going to be a long and confusing set of events, and he wanted nothing to do with it. He reached for his pistols, nothing, he reached for his sword, nothing, felt around for his sniper, nothing. Crap. Diplomacy was going ot have to be the route then.

"Or we could not, I happen to quite enjoy not feeling things... it makes my life and job simpler. So how bout you go find someone else to be a parasite to and I'll continue to live my god-free life, okie tay?"

His soul just sat there, an amused smile plastered on it's smug face as it traced little white lines across the steel table top.

"Yes... and I'm having nothing to do with it."

Khane took the glass and smashed it across his soul's face... how that was possible he didn't much care, he would deal with the ethical, spiritual, and metaphysical ramifications of doing that later. He flipped the table, threw the chair at his soul, and booked it as fast as his existential legs would carry him into the deepest darkness of the corner of his mind.

Khane's mind had stopped racing, and was now standing, panting slightly, in a well lit room. It wasn't by any means a difficult room. High arched ceilings, fresh breeze, pedestals, a perfect double of himself, tapestries, throw ru--

He stopped... what was that last one... Tapestries? no.. before that... he scanned back across the room and looked himself over. He had a perfect double, no wings, no halo, just him. He slanted his eyes, being very cautious of this one.

















The ground shook, and the manifestation tinted slightly red, growing elongated fangs and giving off a light red mist around his feet.



The ground shook a little more violently, the red tint turning into a full bore glow, and dark spiny tentacles growing out of his back.





Khane looked him square in the eye and though evil thoughts of watching him blow up. Apparently everything was added in real time... because the ground started to shake, and his manifestation of inner evil started to expand, eventually popping, and covering the entire room in a warm blanket of the red, red kroovy.

Meanwhile, he was still physically in the shower, mumbling slightly traced of his inner conversations in what looked to be a fitful sleep as Erica shook him and worried her hair gray.

Khane's eye's shot open. Normally these were eyes that were filled with the delightful joy of a child, as well as the psychotic killing urges the likes the universe has only thought up in it's deepest darkest nightmares, but now they were filled with mischief and malice, the likes of which greatly resembled everything the Norse god Loki represented. They looked Erica up and down, and Khane grinned. He reached out and gripped Erica's a** tightly.



Meanwhile, Khane's consciousness was still mucking about in it's self. He kept running, and eventually came into a large room, teal walls, white linoleum floors, rows of florescent lighting and drywall tiles for a ceiling, and in this room, were filing cabinets... many thousands of filing cabinets. He walked by them, each one had a different designation. but there was a pattern. it was a letter, then a digit, starting with A1, then A2, and so on. He kept walking, eventually getting to B10. He stared at it, and decided to open it.

It slid open, and inside were a series of files. The first one, staring him in the face, was a name he hadn't heard in forever and a day. Biakowski, Jason. His face blanched as all the colour drained from it. He went to grab the file, and read it, but his hands were shaking terribly. He finally got a hold of it, and brought it up towards his face, one word escaping his trembling lips.


He broke down, hugging the folder to his chest and bawling like a little child. Whatever it was, it was linked to the one man who cared for him for any reason beyond money, the one man who never ever wanted to see him dead... his creator... his father.