A city breeze drifted languidly through the streets, picking up errant smells and litter, moving them around. The cold air lent the wind a malicious bite. Steam bubbled out from the holes in sewer lids. The block was sparsely populated so cold and late. Those that were out were trying to get back inside as fast as they could.

Christina was stringing curse words together in her head, directed at Gregg who walked beside her, oblivious. It had been Gregg that suggested they hit the bar. He was always dragging her to one thing or another, insecure about being the boring married couple. It was his mission to prove to their single friends that they hadn’t lost a step. Being college sweethearts, there had perhaps been an original sin of being the first of their friend group o settle down, while everyone else was still partying. Still, it had been over a decade, more than long enough for Gregg to accept that their lifestyle had changed. Christina was perfectly happy staying in on a cold night, snuggled up on the couch, snacking and watching dumb videos. Truth be told, it had been a good time, but not worth the walk. It certainly was not worth the half hour it would take both of them working together to unjam the always faulty zipper on Gregg’s ugly old jacket.

The couple had started their trek holding hands. However, the bite of the cold air pierced their gloves, and forced them to find refuge in their pockets. It was too cold to talk. Instead, they both stayed in their own little worlds, content to walk together. Christina kept herself warm by matching the brisk pace of Gregg’s much longer legs.

“What the hell is that?” Gregg was stopped, looking ahead.

Christina saw it too, at the end of the block. At first glance, it looked like a man walking his dog. It was wrong. The dog was much bigger than the man. It was too far away and shrouded in shadow to pick up details, but the shape of it was all wrong. The thing was much more skeletal than a typical dog, with much thicker hind legs. The front legs were articulated like the arms of a human, but much, much longer in relation to its body. It almost looked like a person squatting. Then there was the head, which was indiscernible from the neck. The neck just seemed to go on until it ended. Something was off about the man too, though she couldn’t nail down exactly why. The only word that came to mind was ‘artificial’. Both the dog and man were staring at her and Gregg. Christina felt dread creep in and push out all of her other thoughts. She reached out and grabbed Gregg’s hand.

“Slowly,” Gregg whispered.

Gregg started backing up, pulling Christina along with him. The two figures just stood and watched. Christina kept waiting for the moment that they would be pursued, but it didn’t come. Instead, Gregg guided her to the closest side street, and turned. It was a narrow little alley between buildings, barely a street at all. The darkness within was foreboding, but nowhere near as tangible as what they had just encountered.

Gregg led the way through the alley. Christina kept close, constantly peaking back behind, terrified of what may be following them. While her head was turned, she collided with Gregg, almost knocking him over. He had stopped abruptly. Before Christina could see what Gregg was reacting to, he shot out a hand to block her from whatever was in front of him. That was when Christina saw them.

The two figures who had haunted the street had somehow cut them off, appearing before Gregg. The shadows of the alley kept their full forms obfuscated, but what she could properly assess of them was grotesque. The beast had humanlike shape, albeit with the hunched posture and proportions not unlike a gorilla. Spindly forearms dangled all the way to the ground, long fingers curled, knuckles dressing on the street. It was hairless above the waist, with pallid grey skin. The bumps of its spine protruded out unnervingly, lending it an almost cerated impression. The bottom half was like that of a bull with coarse black hair, and claws like that of some giant chicken. As had puzzled Christina the first time she saw it, the beast’s head seemed to have no definition. The neck simply extended out like a trunk, ending in a mouth that opened out to the full circumference of the throat. Out of the mouth, a thin, pointed tongue darted in and out in a rhythm like a panting dog.

The man was uncanny, with hollow eyes and a menacing facsimile of a smile. The entire face seemed to be an imitation by someone who didn’t really understand what one was for. The man’s skin was devoid of any color, a powdery, bloodless white. No skin was visible beyond the neckline, the rest was clothes, inflated by some vague mass beneath it. A trench coat layered over a shabby old suit, like they were hanging off a wire rack. Sleeves led to black gloves, the legs of its slacks fed into black dress shoes.

Christina screamed, but instead of echoing out, the noise died in the alley.

“Step aside, Chap,” the man said in a shrill, inhuman voice. This was not a sound that was produced by lungs. “All we needs is the itty pretty bird.”

Christina felt the dread inside her become a paralyzing tsunami. All she could do was clutch Gregg’s arm, to keep from being washed away.

“Fuck off,” Gregg answered defiantly, though his voice was shaking.

“Oh don’t you worry your itty head over her.” The tone may have been meant to be reassuring, but only rang as empty as the rest of him. “You won’t remember her when I’m done with her. A buck like you ‘ill find a new mate in no time!”

“I said fuck off and leave us alone.”

“Is’re something wrong with them ears, buck? I say you’re no part of this. I come for the doe, and I’ll have her.”

“No you won’t, Dever,” a new voice emerged from behind Christina. She jolted, terrified that some new beast had snuck up to get her. What she saw was no beast. It was a man, a real one.

A wave of relief immediately washed over Christina. It was a super. He must have been new, because Christina knew of all the heroes operating in the area, and she didn’t recognize this one. His suit was far from inspiring: a simple mix of dark greys and blacks. Everything was standard from the tight leotard, to the black cowl. With longer than a moment’s glance, the dinginess of the suit started becoming noticeable. Tattered bits were patched over, ill fitting gloves. The pieces of the suit didn’t match up, denoting a cannibalizing of second hand suits. Curiously, the suit lacked an insignia. The poor guy probably couldn’t afford to have one custom designed and trademarked. The only thing that stood out was his cape, which seemed to not be made of any cloth, but rather a swirling material that Christina couldn’t get a solid read on. The kid couldn’t have been older than his early twenties. He was scrawny-not out of shape by any means-but would be more accurately described as lithe than muscular. These imperfections mattered little, as Christina was not about to turn away a savior and wait for a better one.

The hero pushed past the couple and stood in front of them like a shield. Gregg took a step back, and put his arm around Christina, pulling her tight. With a better look at the cape, Christina noticed it moved independently of the wind, almost like it was alive. It was the darkest shade of black she’d ever seen. No matter how hard she stared at it, it never got easier to pick up definition.

“Aye, Ghost, how does the air taste, my brother?” The man the hero called Dever said.

“Go home, Dever,” Ghost answered bluntly.

“Cannot. Cannot do that, brother. The oracle saw me. She saw the girl. Meat for the grinder. Chaos eats it all, you know?”

Ghost turned back to Christina and Gregg.

“Stay behind me. He can’t stay in our world for long. Don’t try to run, and do not let the Mazzik touch you.”

“Mazz-what?” Gregg asked.

“The monster thing,” Ghost answered, returning his attention to Dever.

Dever’s face had started distorting. The size and shape bulged like an angry boil. The costume fell away, skin and all, melting into nothing in the shadows. Out emerged a creature. How it was able to be contained by a vessel the size of a human defied physics. The true Dever was at least fifteen feet tall, held up by two legs that had the appearance of long, skeletal human arms, but ended in chicken’s claws. Both legs grew directly from the sides of Dever’s head, where ears would be on a human. But it was not a human head. Christina could not conjure a real world corollary for what she saw. It was an ovular football shape, probably five feet across. Christina could recognize features. A gaping mouth as wide as the entire face. The mouth opened on both sides of the head, allowing Christina to see through to the other side. Inside was filled with row after row of pointed teeth. The entire rest of the surface area of the face was covered in eyes that protruded out of the skin like pimples. No two eyes were a match, they varied in size, shape, and color.

All eyes pointed at Christina, who shrieked again. Dever’s mouth emitted a gurgle in response. Four tentacles slithered out of the bottom of Dever’s mouth, reaching out for Christina. Each tentacle was tipped with a sharp fang. Though Christina was good deal away, the tentacles did not seem to run out of line, they just kept stretching further out.

Ghost took a defensive fighting stance. His cape came alive and wrapped itself around his body. The black material climbed down his arms, forming oily black blades that extended out of the top of each his balled fists. His legs all but disappeared, replaced by a swirling black vortex that intermingled with the shadows on the ground, becoming indistinguishable in the darkness.

The tentacles rushed in Christina’s direction. Ghost shot up to meet them, the vortex of his lower body becoming endless just like the tentacles. One slash of Ghost’s blade, and the tentacles were severed, falling to the street. Dever roared in pain. The detached tentacles wiggled and twitched, sinking into the shadow on the ground as if it were liquid. More tentacles shot from Dever’s mouth, this time targeting Ghost. Ghost spun, gathering shadows around him. The tentacles grasped Ghost, coiling around him, pinning the shadows to his body. With their prize in hand, the tentacles pulled Ghost toward Dever’s mouth.

The Mazzik twitched to life, pushing itself onto its hind legs and taking slow, labored steps. Gregg pushed Christina behind him. The hero was wrapped up, in even worse shape than they were. They were helpless. The Mazzik stepped into what looked like a puddle of shadows in front of the couple. Its claw stuck to the puddle. With a roar, the Mazzik tried to wretch its foot free, but the puddle only pulled it in further. The puddle spread, pooling under the Mazzik’s other leg. The heavy creature began to sink into the shadow, loosing agonized yelps. It flailed its pathetic arms around, searching for a hold, but could not find one. In desperation, the Mazzik spewed its long tongue out toward the couple.

“Christina!” Gregg yelled, shoving Christina out of the way of the tongue.

Christina hit the pavement hard. The first thing she feared was that she was somehow speared by the Mazzik's tongue, but she’d been fortunate enough to avoid it. Next, she, half expected to start sinking into the ground like the creature, but the ground beneath her was solid. She looked up to see Gregg, standing over her looking concerned. Suddenly, Gregg’s eyes widened in horror. His arm was yanked toward the Mazzik. The tongue had melded with Gregg’s jacket.

“Gregg!” Christina cried, jumping to her feet.

Gregg was playing tug of war, planting his feet, and pulling with all his might. The Mazzik was much too strong. Gregg’s feet were dragged across the ground, despite his protests. Christina ran over to Gregg, and found his zipper, jiggling it, begging for it to come loose.

“Get back, Chris!”

“I can get it open!”

“I’ll do it! Get back!”

Gregg pushed Christina away, using his free hand to wrestle with his own zipper. Ghost was in Dever’s mouth, his shadows now entirely encasing him in a pod. When Dever bit down, the pod exploded, toppling him, and blowing Ghost out of his mouth. Ghost wasted no time rushing to the couple.

“Please! Help him!” Christina begged.

Gregg was fighting a two front war, frantically tugging his zipper with one hand, and resisting the Mazzik with the other. Ghost was on Gregg in an instant.

“The zipper’s stuck!” Gregg said.

“Move your hand,” Ghost ordered.

"Can't you cut the tongue?"

"Trust me, you do not want me to do that."

Gregg braced himself. Ghost drew his wrist blade, stuck it at the zipper juncture, and wrenched downward. The blade sliced clean through the zipper. Ghost helped Gregg get his free arm out of his sleeve. The captured arm was more difficult. The tongue had wrapped around the sleeve extremely tightly. Gregg’s hand was beginning to go purple. Both men put all their strength into extracting Gregg’s arm from the jacket. The struggle was proving futile. After all the effort reeling in its catch, the Mazzik, now waist deep in shadow, was only a few feet away.

“No! Get away from me!” Christina cried. Dever was back up, albeit on unsteady legs, and was hobbling toward Christina.

Gregg stopped pulling and looked Ghost in the eye.

“Go help my wife,” Gregg said solemnly.

“Can you hold off until then?” Ghost asked. He sounded frightened, unsure of himself.

“I’ll be ok.”

The outstretched tentacles were getting dangerously close to Christina. She was backing away, trying to outpace the fangs before her. One shaky step landed on a littered can, tripping Christina up, bringing her to the ground. The fangs jolted forward, attempting to seize on the opportunity. Ghost disappeared into the same puddle of shadow that the Mazzik was stuck in. In an instant, he emerged from a similar puddle in front of Christina.

Ghost grabbed the tentacles, and sliced them off. Using his lower body vortex, he launched himself at Dever, knocking him over once again. Dever sat helplessly as Ghost climbed on top of his head and began punching it over and over again, plunging his blade into tough skin. A tentacle emerged from Dever’s mouth, and stabbed Ghost in the side. Ghost screamed.

“What the fuck, Dever??” Ghost roared angrily.

“Yer stabbin’ me!” Dever rumbled back.

“You’re out of time! You’re not going to feel it when you’re back home in thirty seconds! I have to disinfect this and wrap it…Why can’t you just leave without being a dick on the way out??”

“Sorry, brother…” Dever’s voice was weak and faded as his skin bubbled. His entire body was becoming gelatinous. Soon, he melted away into nothing.

“Gregg! Please let me help you!” Christina pleaded.

“Stay back! Don’t come near me!” Gregg yelled back, equally desperate.

Ghost ran back to the couple, but it was far too late. Gregg’s arm was fully swallowed by the Mazzik. The tongue had slithered up around Gregg’s throat. Where naked skin met the tongue, the two fused together. Ghost could do nothing but stare on pitifully. Christina directed her tear filled eyes up to Ghost.

“Why aren’t you helping him??”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“No! No! There has to be something we can do!”

“You can say goodbye,” Ghost said sadly.

Christina responded by wailing incoherently.

“Hey,” Gregg said gently, quieting Christina. “It’s ok. You’ll be ok.”

Gregg gave Christina a soft, sad smile, and reached out his hand. Christina grasped it tightly.

“I’ll never be ok without you,” Christina managed to say through sobs.

“I love you,” Gregg said.

“I’ll always love you, Gregg.”

The Mazzik bubbled and gelatinized just like Dever. The condition spread to Gregg. Gregg gurgled and coughed as he melted. The hand Christina squeezed began to dematerialized no matter how desperately she held onto it.

“No! No!” Christina pleaded frantically.

It was no use. All traces of Gregg were gone. Christina buried her face in her hands and cried as hard as her body would let her.

Christina was crying. Why? She tried to pin down a reason, but there was a hole in her memory. The last thing she remembered was walking home from the bar. Jacklyn had begged her to come out. It was a fun night, but certainly not worth the walk home alone in the cold. Then what happened? It had to be bad, otherwise why was she crying? Why was she in an alley? She definitely did not drink enough to black out like this. Standing above her was Ghost. But who was Ghost? He was a hero, that much she knew. But why did she know that? Her brain registered affection and respect at his presence, but couldn’t recall the experience in which he’d earned those things from her.

“Are you hurt?” Ghost asked.

“No…” Why would she be hurt?

“I’m sorry about your husband.”

Christina did not comprehend the statement. She'd never been married. Since college, she'd been chronically single, unable to really clique with any guy she'd given it a go with.

“Husband…?”

“That’s ok,” Ghost said knowingly. “I’ll remember him for you.”

Ghost was a strange guy. He extended hand to Christina, and helped her to her feet. They walked together to the mouth of the alley, where they bid each other ado. For a split second, Christina considered asking him for his number, but no. Dating a super came with all sorts of baggage. Instead, she surprised him with a quick, warm hug. Then, she was off, looking forward to getting back to her apartment, snuggling up alone on the couch, snacking and watching dumb videos.