When Mike awoke after the crash, it was in a very different situation when compared to his father.

For one, he felt much less pain than Oliver, and unlike Oliver, he didn’t wake up in a bed, but instead found himself waking up in the park he was playing at in Sanguine.

Unlike Oliver, Mike immediately recognized his surroundings, recalling the children he had seen playing there before…

But the day looked to be starting, and Mike couldn’t see his sister or his father anywhere near him…

So like any child, this worried him, even if he wouldn’t immediately admit to it.

Looking around for a moment, Mike began to walk out of the park, not noticing the shadows of the park extending slightly, a large amount of ghostly white eyes staring from the shadows.

Mike remained ignorant to the stares as he walked out of the park, seeing a man hunched over near a building.

“Um, excuse m-m-me, but do you k-k-know where m-m-my f-f-family i-is?” Mike’s question was laced with stutters, and he had hoped that it would get the man he was talking to angry…

He had been warned about talking to strangers, but in a strange new place, everyone was a stranger, and he needed help.

He needn’t worry about how angry the stranger would be, given that when the ‘man’ turned to look at Mike, his eyes were covered in bandages…

And then the ‘man’ began to scream, his features distorting as the jaw unhinged before splitting in two, blood dripping from the serrated teeth lining the inside of said ‘mouth’ as the ‘man’ growled at Mike.

Mike was screaming by the time the man had turned and had bandages across his face, this was just making it worse as Mike turned and attempted to run away.

He didn’t get very far, as Mike wasn’t athletic at all, and the monster, for it was no man, was larger and clearly faster than the young Mike.

Feeling something grab his collar, Mike immediately assumed he was going to get very hurt (die) and closed his eyes in an effort to brace himself for pain (death).

A gunshot sound went off, and suddenly Mike was dropped back onto the pavement, skinning his knees as he curled into a ball out of fear, not catching the thudding sound of the monster as it fell to the floor, no longer possessing a head.

“Hey… get up. Get up kid, I don’t have all day to be watching you.” The voice spoke, and it terrified Mike immediately. It was deep, rumbling, the kind you knew didn’t belong in a human but instead something greater (terrifying) and Mike risked a glance in the direction of the voice.

Humanoid, just like the monster that attacked Mike just a second ago, wearing what looked to be a cowboy hat and a sheriff’s badge, a revolver in the being’s gloved right hand.

The head of the being terrified Mike, a beak like mask filled with tiny slits, fog seeming to roil out of the mask and a pair of goggles, it was a strange, alien appearance for the being.

“Hey, I caught you looking at me. Get up. Can’t have a normal human sitting on the floor out in the middle of town… especially near the Unwanted and its territory…” Mike didn’t know what an ‘Unwanted’ was, but given how this guy (thing) didn’t want Mike near the Unwanted, and he (it) had saved Mike, Mike was inclined to listening to this guy (thing) if he wanted to live.

“Uh… yes sir…” Mike sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his knees as he stood, following silently behind the scary man (creature) with the gun.

They continued their walk in silence, the Sheriff clearly comfortable with the silence and Mike too scared to speak and possible get shouted at or hurt, given how the Sheriff had shot that man (thing) that attacked Mike.

A few minutes after they started walking they arrived in front of a building with the sign ‘Sheriff’s Office’ written above the door, signalling that this was where they were moving.

Walking inside the office behind the scary man (Being) Mike watched as he (it) pulled back a chair behind a desk and sat down, and with a snap of his fingers, a chair appeared for Mike…

If whatever that was could be classed as a chair, given that it seemed to be crafted out of a strange dull grey/white material that Mike found oddly recognisable (bones, it was made of bones)

With a pointed look at Mike, the Sheriff conveyed his desire by pointing at the chair. “Sit.”

Mike sat, not wanting the Sheriff to talk for too long, the Sheriff had a really scary voice after all… and while Mike was surprised at the appearance of a chair from nothing (It grew from the ground) he felt that the being (not man, not human) that placed it there was more attention grabbing.

“Okay… clearly, you are not a Resident of Sanguine… if you were, you’d have walked off a Resident attacking you, or at the very least you’re new in town.” The voice of the Sheriff hurt to listen to, sounding like a beast growling in your ear, or a piece of glass breaking in the same room…

Those two sounds didn’t quite go together, but that was the best Mike could explain it.

“Um, Yes… I-I-I’m going to Canada with m-m-my f-f-family… I-I don’t know where they are…” Mike admitted with a frown, getting a nod from the Sheriff.

“I see, you were a traveller… it’s a bit sad to admit, but you’re likely not going to be able to leave Sanguine.” The Sheriff’s words got a worried look from Mike, and seeing that he (it) had to elaborate, he (it) continued.

“You already saw one, a Resident of Sanguine… everyone in this place is similar to that in one way or another, some worse, some better.” Mike looked terrified at that acknowledgement before looking at the door… then back to the Sheriff with fear in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m just like the being that attacked you. The difference being that I still possess the capability of thought. I’m going to be giving you a crash course on the way things are in Sanguine.” The Sheriff said, pointing to the left.

To the Sheriff’s left was a chalk board, and little by little writing began to appear on the board in a strange script.

After trying for a moment to understand it, the script seemed to almost snake into comprehension for Mike, now reading as two separate things.

Residents of Sanguine and Founders.

“Those two terms separate the people in Sanguine into two groups. The first group, the Residents, can’t think… they’re monsters basically.” As the Sheriff said it, images began to flash on the board as if being a projected slide-show, showing another one of what attacked Mike, something without hair and looking stitched together (the lengths were wrong) and finally a dog-like beast.

“The second term, Founders, describe beings like myself. We Founders retain our intelligence, despite being monsters just like the Residents.” The Sheriff raised his (its) hands to the mask and goggles he (it) wore, and removed each…

Revealing a skull, pale purple flames inside of said skull creating purple ‘eyes’ of fire and every time the Sheriff ‘breathed’ a small gout of flame left its mouth.

“As you can see… no one that lives in Sanguine is normal. Sorry kid, but the chance of you making it out of this place alive is pretty much zero, even if I don’t feel like killing you.” The Sheriff was blunt in its admission, leaving Mike worried as he looked to the board, noticing another term had appeared.

“What about Old Ones?” Mike asked, trying to move past his fear (beasts can smell fear) and ask about the third term.

“Ah… Old Ones are beings that created Sanguine. There are four of them, though one hides itself so well most think there are only three…” The Sheriff, now showing its true appearance that reminded Mike slightly of Ghost Rider (only much more scary) snapped its gloved (bone, no flesh) fingers and four more words appeared on the board.

“Watcher, Mourner, Unwanted, and Origin. The four Old Ones that rule over Eyes, Hair, Shadows and Blood respectively.” Next to the ‘names’ of the Old Ones appeared their domains, making Mike turn to the Sheriff…

“I-I-Is the Unwanted what lives at the park?” Mike asked, scared, but truly needing to know how close he was to dying just a moment ago.

“The Unwanted is the least known about amongst the four, but the park is one place where the Unwanted rules… I won’t tell you too much, but you need to understand this.” The Sheriff pointed to the board, two lines coming down the board separating the terms from each other.

“The Residents are slaves to the whims of the Old Ones, while Founders each do as they please, and the Old Ones control all of Sanguine bar some Founders. I am one of the few they do not control.” The Sheriff seemed pleased with this bit of information, while letting Mike know that the Sheriff was not a part of these ‘Old Ones’.

“Listen kid, if you want to survive Sanguine, you won’t be able to do it alone. You need help, help that I won’t be providing. I’m the Sheriff, my job is to simply keep the Residents docile.” The Sheriff admitted with a sigh of purple flames before reaching for its revolver, placing it on the table.

“I can’t help you too much. I am free from the control of the Old Ones, but interfering too much would have me draw their attention. I might be the most dangerous of the Founders, but I’m nothing to an Old One… they are essentially Gods.” The Sheriff admitted, placing the revolver on the table.

“I can help a bit though. Take the Scythe.” The words of the Sheriff confused Mike, only afterwards noting that the word ‘Scythe’ was written in fancy lettering on the barrel of the gun.

“There are six bullets in it, and that’s it. No more than that. It can kill any being in Sanguine with one shot bar the Old Ones themselves, but that’s only if you hit them. After you fire the sixth shot, the Scythe returns to my side.” Mike got the idea, even if he was a bit slow when it came to things like counting.

Six shots, and Mike would lose the gun… reaching out and having a grasp on the handle, the Scythe vanished, making Mike confused.

“Don’t worry kid, when you need it, you can use it. But that’s all the help I could give you… well, all the help I can bar two bits of advice.” The Sheriff said, standing as Mike followed (the chair of bones sunk away) as they walked to the door.

“Firstly, stay away from the school. Second, don’t go outside Sanguine, lest the Darkness get you.” Mike didn’t know what ‘the Darkness’ was, but it sounded like an Old One like the Unwanted… and given that the Unwanted almost killed Mike without him even knowing…

Mike was scared of the Darkness just based on that fact.

“Good luck kid… wait, before you leave, what’s your name? I might run into your family too.” The Sheriff offered, and Mike nodded, realizing that he really hadn’t introduced himself.

“M-m-my n-n-name i-is M-M-Mike Cole… I-I-If you see m-my f-f-family, could you let them k-k-know I-I-I’m okay?” the Sheriff would have scoffed at the stuttering, but seemed to realize that Mike was not doing it out of nervousness.

“Alright kid… if I were you, I’d check out the Garage, but I’m not you, so…” the Sheriff walked inside his office acting as if he was just talking aloud, leaving Mike standing outside with a smile…

Scary as it… he, was, the Sheriff was a nice guy.

Still terrifying… but a nice guy.

As Mike walked away, the Sheriff sighed, putting his mask back on, disliking showing his true face…

“Poor kid… marked by the Unwanted as he is, I doubt he’d last much longer… but I can’t help him. Death must be impartial.” The Sheriff waited for a moment, just thinking about the situation…

While lost in thought, he heard the bell of his door ringing, prompting the Sheriff to look to the door.

“Well… I didn’t expect to see someone willingly walk in here… you must be related to that kid, Mike.” The Sheriff offered.

“You know about my brother… where is he?” the girl, Stacy Cole, stared at the Sheriff, ignoring the blood slowly flowing down the side of her face.