He walked back to his apartment. Nothing inside of nothing. The case was as cut and dried as the first body. He'd figured out the pattern, he had the killer. They called him the Werewolf. He tore them apart, everyone who Stephenson had found. He had the guy right where he wanted him, but then he realized what was happening. He had to warn-. He stopped. The door of his home was open. A man stood in it, with blood on his clothes and his face, with a silvery-blue weapon in his hand. Slung over his shoulder was a limp body, that of a woman. Stephenson drew his gun. [i]Drop her, now![/i] The man turns to the detective. [b]Ah, there he is. Our little knight, with the badge and the gun. But -oops! Now the badge is gone. So sad, my dear little knight. Now it's just you, me, and your pretty damsel. [/b] [i]Drop her.[/i] The man fires a blast of energy from his weapon and runs down the hall. [b]It's hopeless, little knight! The Gods of the Old World arm and clothe my very self! I am their instrument![/b] Then the running, across the roof and through the alleys. There was a hole, a space in the wall of the alley- another space through it. The killer was a teleport-capable Psion- that's how he'd been getting away. The woman the Werewolf held stirred. [u]Jack? Is that you? Help... me...[/u] Stephenson drew his gun as the Werewolf ran to the portal. [i]EVELYN![/i] He fired twice. The Werewolf staggered and dropped the woman. Stephenson caught his wife as she hit the ground. [u]Jack... oh my God, Jack. He-[/u] Her eyes widened as a knife sailed towards them. [u]Look out![/u] Evelyn shuddered once and fell. [b]Goodbye, sweet damsel! Adieu, little knight! [/b] The Werewolf hurled another blade, and Stephenson caught it in his shoulder. Then, they were alone. The portal hummed silently, then began slowly to close. [i]Evelyn. Ev, honey. It's me. It's Jack. Stay with me! Ev! Evelyn! Come on, it's alright, just stay with-[/i] She was dead. The detective stood up, howled in anguish and in rage, and raced into the portal. He would kill the Werewolf, or die trying. [b]Present Day[/b] Stephenson woke up with a hell of a headache, and with a bloody nose that flowed more freely than the fountain of youth.