Finally, he was out of the hospital clothes. He was in a long black trench, with dark clothing underneath; something he preferred, something that said it was for his survival.


Survival. That's the only reason why he was still living. It was redundant, but he had nothing else. He knew no one. He had nothing. And he knew that Officer Carlton would hunt him down when he found out that he was gone. Nightshade . . . . That's what the doctor and nurse suspected him to be. Who was Nightshade and why were the policemen after him?


And how on Kaotack was he connected to Nightshade? How was the shooting that he apparently was involved in connected to Nightshade? What had happened while he was out? Perhaps they caught the real Nightshade and Officer Carlton didn't know yet?


There was a strange man at the end of the street. Every muscle in Toren's body tensed, instinct telling him to be careful. He was unarmed; if he had been found with a gun at the shooting, he certainly did not have it with him now.


It happened just as he was passing the man. The man lunged at him with a knife. Toren easily deflected him. Toren didn't want to fight, so he stayed defensive and let the man attack. As the man attacked, he steadily grew rougher, and Toren very soon had to try harder to defend himself. In only a matter of minutes, Toren stopped defending and knocked the man down.


He stood over the man blankly, not at all fazed. He felt no remorse. He felt no guilt. He felt nothing.


The man started chuckling. "Heh heh, still have it in you, don't you?" he said, getting up and brushing hinself off. "You really pushed me to my limits and with no effort on your part. So that five month hospital break didn't rot away your skills, apparently!"


Toren continued to stare at him blankly.


"Eh, no comment? Considering the way we parted last time, I thought I'd be dead by now," the man said, still chuckling.


Toren still said nothing.


The man's smile faded. "You in there, or are you brainwashed?"


Toren was still silent.


The man's smile returned. "You are Toren Felthar, right?"


Toren didn't move. Then slowly, cautiously, he nodded.


"Why don't you join us again, eh?" the man said, still smiling.


Toren made no sign that he had heard.


The man blinked. "Recognize this?" He waved a gun. The gun looked so familiar. Instinct told Toren to grab it, and an instant it was in his hand.


"Apparently," the man said, "you do." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "What do you remember? Apparently you've lost something."


Toren just blinked.


The man grinned even wider. "Nightshade."


Nightshade. Why did this guy think that he was Nightshade? Why did everyone think that he was Nightshade? Who was Nightshade?


"That's who you are, Toren Felthar," the man said. "Nightshade, a hunter. An assassin. You kill people that the Gunblade tells you to kill."


So that's who he was. Nightshade, a killer. He killed people. The shooting must've been caused by him. He killed people, so why would it not have been him? Nightshade. Officer Carlton knew this, even though he could not remember it. Officer Carlton must've gone through all the evidence, and all of it said that Toren Felthar was Nightshade.


Nightshade. A hunter. An assassin. A killer.


"Ready to meet the Gunblade again?" the man said.


Toren just stared at him. Then slowly nodded.


Maybe, just maybe, he could figure out more about himself.

"Hello, GunBlade, ruler of us all!" the man said, leading Toren into a big room. There was only one piece of furniture in the room; a throne at the far end of the room. "I've got you your prize." He turned at an angle to present Toren. Toren stepped forward into the middle of the room where a silver light was shining. "Presenting to you, Nightshade, new and improved after a trip to the hospital. And not even a beat behind in his skills!"


Toren tensed, and a female voice spoke. "Nightshade? He hasn't abandoned us?"


"He didn't even seem to recall that he was Nightshade, lady," the man said gleefully. "Like I said, new and improved. He seems to have removed himself from all emotions as well!"


There was movement from the throne. A tall woman stood. Her looks were seductive, but her expression was dangerous. She approached Toren. He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her. Something told him that she wasn't to be trusted.


"Who are you?" Her voice rang out, commanding and as dangerous as her looks.


Toren considered not answering her. If he had ever met her, he couldn't remember it, and so he couldn't remember what kind of person she was. Merely giving her his name could end up being the wrong choice.


Finally, "Toren Felthar."


She nodded. "From now on, you will never be known as Toren Felthar again. Your name is, and always will be, Nightshade." She leaned in closer, her mouth only an inch away from his ear. "And you'll be my pet killer. You'll do as I say. And you'll not question it. Am I understood?"


Nightshade gave her a look, commiting himself back into her service. With a smile, she withdrew back to her throne.


"I like this new Nightshade," she purred. "He's very compliant. He doesn't think for himself, and he has no emotion. The perfect qualities for cold-blooded killer. It's a lucky thing that you found him, Stalkersky. Very lucky thing indeed. Can you imagine if he had ended up in the hands of those who oppose us?"


"Well, he could very well be picked up by the police, and that would a waste," Stalkersky agreed.


"Now, listen, Nightshade," GunBlade said firmly. "The stunt you pulled five months ago will not be repeated. Am I understood?"


Nightshade did not remember what stunt he pulled five months ago. He assumed she was talking about the shooting. He nodded.


An evil smile curled her lips. "Excellent. Now, I already have an assignment to you, to test whether or not you're still up to this. . . . "

His crimes were posted all over the news. You couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one of his latest crimes. A man named Toren Felthar, who had been found had the scene of the infamous shooting five months ago, had escaped from the hospital after waking from a coma. Ever since then, the legendary hunter Nightshade had reappeared, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. Officer Carlton warned the people that Toren Felthar was now undoubtedly Nightshade, and was not to be approached, especially unarmed. Only a special team of agents could handle him. And this specific team was given one order about Nightshade.

Kill on sight.

"I still can't believe it!" Sef said, slamming the newspaper and glaring at Delsh. "Are they law keepers or what? Kill Nightshade? How will that make them any better than Nightshade?"

"You're just angry because you thought that Toren was dead," Delsh said calmly, take a sip of cold tea and wrinkling his nose at it. "And you're also angry because it's obvious to us that Toren's returned to the GunBlade.


Sef glared at him. "What about you?" she spat.


Delsh looked into her eyes. "I think we don't know the full story. We can't just jump to conclusions, here. Who knows why Toren returned to the GunBlade? Maybe he was threatened when he tried to stop being Nightshade? From what we know of the GunBlade, he doesn't seem to like traitors. And what Toren was going to do would definitely count as betraying the GunBlade, if you ask me."


"I hope it is," Sef sighed, trying to allay some of her anger.


"But," Delsh said warningly. "It could also be that Toren really couldn't foreswear being Nightshade and chose the GunBlade over us. That gives us a duty: Either kill on sight like these agents, or try to capture him and take him into custody. It is possible there's no possible way to convince him to leave the GunBlade." He looked at her seriously. "And you've got to accept that," he said firmly.


"I d0-!" Sef was going to say, but she stopped herself, mouth still open.


"Do you really?" Delsh said, a frown appearing on his face. "I know perfectly well that you're just saying that so you can find him. But your real intention is to try persuading him."


"I've persuaded him before!" Sef protested. "And that also saved my life. What makes you think that I can't do it again?"


"Sefstanai!" Delsh said, standing up quickly and slamming both fists on the table, making her jump back. "Don't you get it? You say you've done it before, but just as he was on the verge of coming over, he returned! And you nearly lost your life more than once trying to do it! If anything, he didn't kill you out of pity! You should be absolutely thankful that you're not dead. I've told you this for a long time now, he's completely unpredictable! But I gave you a chance and it obviously didn't work! If you try again, it could cost you your life! Why should I let you do that?? Tell me!"


There was a silence as Delsh breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down. Sef stared at him in a frightened way, tears at the corners of her eyes.


"I'm sorry for yelling," Delsh said finally, replacing the fallen chair. "But I can't allow you near Nightshade again. You've been targeted once, and since you're not dead, you could very well still be on their list and Nightshade will more likely be the one to kill you. You need to understand this, please, Sef," he added pleadingly, looking into her eyes.


"Why don't you think that I'm capable of handling myself?!" she sobbed. "I know that I can do it! I know I can!"


Delsh closed his eyes in pain. "No, you can't. And I'm not going to let you. I won't let you die to Nightshade as well. You were too close to death too many times; I'm not going to have that happen again." He turned and called upstairs, "Yvin, round up Ihen and Rev; we've got a shadow to chase."


"Please, Delsh, please," Sef begged, a tear rolling down a cheek. "Let me go."


Delsh looked at her. "Sef," he said softly, coming over to her and brushing away the tear gently. "I can't. We're not going to talk to him. We're going to capture him. And if we have to, kill him. I can't let you be there."


"Delsh . . . ."


"No, Sef. You're a target. You could end up dying. No, Sef."


She looked him, the tears now spilling over. "But, Delsh-"


In an even quieter voice, Delsh said, "You're just a teenager, Sef. He's an adult. Don't think that anything could have happened."


Sef closed her eyes and a great sob escaped her. "Please, please don't kill!" she begged.


Delsh sighed, turned around and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he said to her, "I can't make any promises." Then he left.

He was a dog.


He killed when ordered, and never when not. Regardless of age, of innocence, he killed, and he killed without remorse. The cries of the people did reach them. They were victims of the GunBlade, and whoever she wanted dead died by Nightshade's hand. He had no feelings, no mercy, and so none of his targets got away alive. He was just a killing machine.


He was a dog.


"Hey, Nightshade!"


He looked up and saw Stalkersky. He made no comment as Stalkersky swiftly leapt down from the lamppost he was standing on and landed gracefully in front of Nightshade.


"Just hanging around?" Stalkersky grinned. "Well, a new mission for you. A couple of people for you, keep you happy, how's that sound? The GunBlade doesn't expect them to be killed right away, so you can take on other missions as you wait for these people to come to you. First off!" he said, holding up one finger, "Yvinne Halterstek, big musclely guy, but should be no problem for you. Doesn't talk much, but, of course, you make him seem quite chatty. Second," holding up two fingers, "Ihen Ihenarth Vanbalker. He's got this staff and unfortunately, he knows how to use it. Third," holding up a third finger, "Revver. Was nameless since birth, so he got the name Revver 'cause he's lightning quick. And lastly," holding up a fourth finger, "Delsh Panbrook. Sly, cunning, and like water in your hands. He's rather experienced and so he knows exactly what to do, and when do to it, so watch your back at all times. These people are trying to hunt you down to kill you. Return the favor, remember. Also," Stalkersky added, "they've got one more weapon. Speech. They will try to win you over and turn you against the GunBlade. Don't listen to their words. They will ask you things like, 'Remember me, Toren?' 'Remember what you said about the GunBlade, Toren?' It's all lies. You've always served the GunBlade, and you've never wavered. They want you to let down your guard so they can kill you. Don't listen to a word they say. It's all lies. And are you Toren?"


Nightshade shook his head.


"Exactly, so they're talking about a completely different person, aren't they?" Stalkersky said. "They want you to believe that you're Toren Felthar. But you're not. You're Nightshade. You always were and always will be. So remember that. Tata!" And with that, Stalkersky took an enormous leap and landed on the lamppost.


"Don't forget your mission!" Stalkersky warned before taking off.


Nightshade stared after him. He was almost sure that the names Stalkersky had listed had something to do with him, but he didn't know what. It had to be that they were trying to kill him.


Maybe they were responsible for the shooting? Maybe at the shooting he was the victim and they the killers? Maybe he was innocent when it came to the shooting?


Return the favor . . . . Well, his instincts willed him to survive. If these people were trying to kill him, then his instinct would tell him to kill them.


He was also ordered by the GunBlade. And he was her pet.


He was her dog.

The meeting came quicker than Nightshade had anticipated.


"You ready to go, Nightshade?" Stalkersky called to him, crawling out of the tiny airvent. He was holding a shiny necklace. "My business is done here."


Nightshade stared at him with his seemingly permanent blank stare.


"Ah, good," Stalkersky said, standing up and smiling at the chaos surrounding them. "Your business is done here as well."


Nightshade blinked and looked down the hall. He sensed something. His muscles tensed of their own accord.


"Nightshade?" Stalkersky asked. He too looked down the hall.


There it was again. That little voice telling him to act by instinct.


Bang! Bang! Bang! Ka-ping! Clunk!


His bullets were deflected. He whipped around and fired again.


"Gonna have to be a little quicker," a voice said on the ceiling.


Nightshade looked up and saw a mere teenager clinging to one of the many chandeliers in the mansion. He got ready to fire again. Then ducked. A staff whizzed right over his head. And then returned to the one who threw it. Nightshade then leapt up, dodging an attack by a large, muscular man. The man slammed into the wall behind Nightshade and Nightshade landed smoothly in front of the man.


There was going to be a fourth attack. The whole was supposed to be an ambush. It was supposed to catch him off guard. And Delsha Panbrook's attack was next.


He flung his arm around, gun trained on the forehead of the one who had just appeared. This one also had a gun and it was aimed at Nightshade's chest.


Stalkersky stood by and watched all the action with amusement.


"So, Nightshade, is it?" Panbrook said quietly.


Nightshade said nothing. Stalkersky was right. They were going to try to win him over.


"I gave you a chance," Panbrook continued. "You apparently have turned it down." There was a slight pause. "I will never forgive you, Toren Felthar," Panbrook said in barely a whisper. "Never did, never will."


Nightshade did not know what he was talking about, but he made no sign that he was confused, or even that he had heard. It was not his business to care about what Panbrook was talking about.


"We're going to kill him?" a young voice said. Nightshade knew that it was Revver, the fast kid.


"We aren't," Panbrook corrected. "I am."


"But-" Revver's words were quieted by a dangerous look from Panbrook.


"Don't think you're going to kill him so easily," Stalkersky said, grinning. "If it were that easy to kill him, don't you think that he'd be dead already?"


"He's supposed to be dead, or did you forget that, Stalkersky?" Panbrook snapped. "I've been way too merciful. He shouldn't have lived this long."


"Kill him now," Stalkersky said.


"If you shoot, you'll both die!" Revver protested.


"Don't interfere!" Panbrook growled.


"Now!" Stalkersky shrieked.


It sounded like an explosion had happened. Nightshade reeled away, clutching his shoulder. Pain, sweet pain, filled his mind. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the two people at the ground. It felt like he could see clearer, hear better, think clearer. That's what pain did. It sharpened his senses.


"Why did you do that!" Panbrook screamed, leaping to his feet.


"Your life is lot more valuable than his!" Panbrook's rescuer argued. "I'm not letting you lose your life because of someone like Felthar!"


Nightshade raised his gun again and this time aimed it at the rescuer, Vanbalker.


"What's happened to you?!" Vanbalker demanded.


Nightshade didn't even blink.


"Stabbed us in the back, didn't you?!" Vanbalker snapped. "You're more than just a cold-blooded killer; you also rip the hearts out of people, don't you?!"


Something Vanbalker said sent a pang through Nightshade. His face still glaring, his hand slowly moved of its own accord and found where his heart was beating. Had he really ripped the hearts out of people? That was a messy way to die. And to kill. And he didn't stab these people in the back. He didn't have a knife, how could he have stabbed them in the back?


But something else told him that that wasn't the case. That Vanbalker wasn't talking about a physical heart.


Everyone was watching Nightshade in silence.


Had he seen Vanbalker before? Didn't he look somewhat familiar? Nightshade asked instinct, and instinct told him to lower his gun, but survival said fire. What was this? Survival and instinct splitting like this? Did not they not go hand in hand? Why were they now at ends?


But instinct said lower the gun. Nightshade felt his gun hand slowly dropping in agreement. Instinct said to, so he should do it.


But the GunBlade had given him an order. Kill these four people. And he was the GunBlade's pet dog. He firstly obeyed the GunBlade, instinct only helped him carry out his duty. And when instinct disagreed, he must follow the GunBlade.


His arm snapped back up and he fired.


He sensed the kid coming up behind him. At the last second, Nightshade struck the kid across the face with his arm. Revver hit the ground hard. Nightshade then leapt up, avoiding once again the big man. He landed on Halterstek and brought his gun down hard on his head. Just like Revver, Halterstek crashed to the ground.


Next, take down Panbrook. Then kill.


But Panbrook had disappeared. A canister dropped from the ceiling. Nightshade jumped onto the chandelier. Found him.


"So you hold no remorse for what you've," Panbrook stated. "Who do you think that you are?"


Nightshade stared at him blankly. In a tone that matched his expression, he said, "Nightshade."


Then he lunged at his target. Below him the canister had erupted and a cloud of smoke poured from it.


"Nightshade!" Stalkersky called. "Let's go!"


But Nightshade paid no attention. He was given an order to kill, and kill he would. He lunged again and both men crashed to the ground.


"Nightshade!" Stalkersky called again. "It's time to go!"


"Yes, go!" Panbrook snarled as they wrestled. "Go back your precious GunBlade!"


But Nightshade paid no heed to what was being said. He had been given an order to kill. And that's what he did. He killed. And his fingers were now around Panbrook's neck.


"I won't die yet," Panbrook choked. "I won't die until you're dead. You did too much against me."


Nightshade found that his breathing was becoming restricted. One of his hands went to his throat. The smoke. The smoke was undoing what the pain did to him. Everything was becoming white. His lungs were filling up with too much of the stuff. Everything was white, then immediately turned black.