Johnny Nightwalker: Family Reunion


“I’m sorry, Johnny.” The man wiped a tear from his eye as he stared at a picture.

The door to his office opened. There stepped in a woman in a lab coat and Omega. “Dr. Ramirez, I am afraid your position with the company has been severed,” said Omega.

Ramirez shot up from his chair. “You… You don’t know the powers you are playing with here! The consequences and ramifications on the world, the people—”

Omega raised a hand and silenced the man. “Do I look like I care? I just want that brat son of yours. You made him first, yes? I want to know his weaknesses. I want to know what makes him tick. And, naturally, I want him dead.”

“Everything I know, the Agency knows,” Ramirez looked to the scientist in the lab coat, and pointed at her, “Dr. Widow has all the necessary files.”

Omega looked to the good doctor and nodded before returning his gaze back to Ramirez. “I see. So, you are expendable then? Very well, let’s do some more… field testing.”

Dr. Ramirez reached into his desk for his handgun. Omega motioned a quick swipe through the air, sending the doctor flying into his bookshelves, sending books and other paraphernalia falling atop him.

“That won’t be necessary…” said Omega.

“Widow… when did you let him take over?” Dr. Ramirez grunted.

Dr. Widow smiled. “My son has big plans.”

“What the hell is this, some sort of childish rivalry?” Ramirez grunted as he got to his feet, catering to his right arm.

“Think of it as a battle of gods… and right now, my boy is proving to be quite capable. Perhaps it was wise to lay with you after all,” said Dr. Widow.

“What—what? You… Are you? No… that cannot be!”

Dr. Widow laughed, “Surprised? I thought you could tell… he does have your eyes after all.” Omega smirked at the remark.

“Johnny will come…” Ramirez grunted as Omega grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him high into the air.

“I am counting on it,” smirked the giant.


After his brief reprieve against Pestilence, Johnny felt a strange sensation and heard a voice in his mind.

Johnny… I am sorry.

“Mr. Ramirez?” he asked aloud.

Johnny, he’s in danger. You have to help him. He holds the key to defeating the Horsemen and Omega. Jerry’s voice chimed in.

“Chico, Red, we have to get to the school right away. Something is happening to Ramirez,” said Johnny.

“That’s pretty far away, lad. I don’t think we would make it in time.”

Johnny smirked. “Forgetting about my new magic trick? Just hold on tight.”

“Is this PETA approved?” asked Chico.

As the group began to fade and travel, “Not sure but we’ll find out,” added Johnny.


Johnny Nightwalker: Consequence and Retaliation

In populated places across the world, the remaining Horsemen carried out their attacks against Humanity. War, however,  collapsed to his knees.


The pain was intense in his chest, despite the fire that raged within. “I will get the bastard… mark my words,” he said as he spat on the ground. His hands erupted into a fiery blaze. He slammed them down onto the ground, sending out massive shockwaves in all directions, sending the collective military might of the world to its knees; tanks exploded, planes crashed into one another and the ground, while bombs detonated all around.

“WAR DEMANDS VENGEANCE,” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Elsewhere, Death only made a silent gesture to an invisible specter.

Lastly, as Famine approached a village in South America, villagers readied an attack against the usher of doom. He began to hyperventilate and stumbled.

“No… No… NO!” he panted.

His attackers all motioned at once.

Life withered around them: plants died, their crops wilted, their animals and livestock died before them. The waters dried up.

Streaks of tears ran down his cheeks. Famine spoke softly aloud, “Mankind has no place in this world or any other.”

He tapped deeper into his power, the power they all shared. “Death… comes for you all.”

For then, Death appeared before them all. “Claim them. Show no mercy,” said Famine.

Death nodded.

He stretched out his right arm and only looked. One person fell to the ground. Then another. One by one, the villagers all fell to the invisible touch.

Famine fell to the ground. “What is in it for us, brothers? Why must we fight another’s battle?”

Revenge… that is all that matters right now. Famine could hear War.


Lad, you had us worried! Runnin’ off like that, ya could have gotten ye self killed,” Red lectured Johnny.

Johnny shook his head. “I didn’t come back just to be scolded, Red. We need to act… and now. People can’t defend themselves against these guys. If we don’t, no one will. There won’t be an Earth to save. No people. Nothing.”

Red and Chico nodded.

“Alright, so what should we do?” Chico asked.

Round everyone up, call in any and all favors. We strike back. It’s time for the world to know… everything. We will expose the Agency for what it is. If we’re all on the same page, it’ll make things easier.

“That’s goin’ to frighten a lot of people, lad,” said Red.

“They are right now—they’re scared and afraid right now! They think no one is going to fight for them. That they’re just going to be fed to some unstoppable beast, left for dead… I don’t plan on that happening. I know the risks, but right now, they’re on the bottom of my list.”

Red and Chico looked at Johnny, astounded. “Are ye sure you’re Johnny?”

“You seem… a lot different, Jeffe.”

Johnny nodded. “I am,” he said with a smile.

“Well then, let’s kick some ass!” piped Chico.


The Black Plague’s End

Here we observe the conclusion to Johnny’s encounter versus the Horseman, Pestilence.

Johnny’s eyes shifted around the room. So many… dead. He could feel something deep within him stirring—longing to manifest.

The nanomachines swarmed Johnny. He let himself be taken.

Pestilence cackled, “Too easy!”

Burns, sores, and disfigurement began to set in. Johnny could feel them eating away at his flesh. He knew though, to actually beat Pestilence, he had to sacrifice a portion of himself.

Pestilence’s curiosity was piqued. “What’s the matter, child? Have you realized the futility of it all?”

Johnny closed his eyes. Jerry, I could sure use your help right now. Everyone.

The familiar voice of his dead friend echoed in the darkness of his mind. I am with you, my friend.

Slowly, a blue aura began to envelop Johnny. He spoke but in a disembodied tone… so many voices… those of the slaughtered.

“Let’s see how you fair… AGAINST JUSTICE!” Johnny’s eyes opened wide. An EMP blast wave emitted from within him, and all Pestilence’s nanomachines dropped to the ground. His fists became engulfed in a fiery blue inferno as he charged the Horseman head on.

“What?! How can that be?!” Pestilence took a step back and recoiled in fear.

Johnny pummeled Pestilence with a fury of attacks to his torso and face. Then he precisely dismantled Pestilence, breaking his arms and legs at the joints. The cries of agony Pestilence unleashed seemed almost hypnotic to Johnny.

He knelt down beside the broken Horseman. “Let us see how you fair against your own medicine, fiend.”

Johnny manipulated the fallen nanomachines. They orbited around him and reacted to his every movement. He placed his hand on Pestilence’s head and let the nanomachines carry out their work. They tore through the skull and engulfed the body of the Horseman wholly. The man’s shrieks of pain came and reached a feverish pitch. He shuddered and shook violently in Johnny’s grasp.

“Tell your brother when you see him… he’s next,” Johnny said as he crushed Pestilence’s skull in his hand.

He stood up and observed the ashen remains of the Horseman. The nanomachines were, indeed, quick to do their work. He felt a new power though—the latest to be unlocked.

Your power grows, Johnny. Use it wisely to battle against the Horsemen. Remember though, they’re just a stepping stone.

Johnny nodded. “I know. Thank you, Jerry.”



The Apocalypse has begun. The Four Horsemen of the Agency have been released to usher in the End of Days under the order of Omega.

The Horsemen can manipulate climate, the will of others, incite violence, unleash plagues, famine, and more.

Johnny and the last of the guardians are in hiding, trying to study the enemy before battling; hoping to devise a strategy.

Many cities across the globe, however, have been ravaged and left in ruin by the Horsemen. As a result, this has left Johnny little choice in the matter.

It’s time to make a move.

“Reports are coming in from cities across the world. Millions of people are dead. Citizens are being slain in the street, their homes, anywhere.” The old news broadcaster spoke in a very dark tone. Sweat had been dripping down from his brow. His short gray hair—wild. His white button down shirt was stained with sweat that tarnished it to a yellow hue, his red tie unkempt. “We—oh my god! What is that?!”

The camera turned around from broadcaster. It recorded all the commotion as people were tossed around like ragdolls, some were impaled by steel beams, crushed under concrete rubble; some had their necks snapped like twigs, some killed one another, incited by something or rather someone.

“What the hell is that?!” cried some of the news station employees.

“It’s a Horsemen! Run for your lives!” One person could be heard shouting.

The figure cloaked themselves in a red aura; small micro machines orbited his person. His features were hard to decipher due to the distortion, and the slaughter that took place around them.

“No, no, please, we are just reporting! We’re no threat!” a woman news broadcaster pleaded as the figure turned its gaze to them. The camera zoomed in on the woman as an unseen force picked her up and drew her to the Horseman. Her feet dragged across the floor, hitting her fallen co-workers. She sobbed uncontrollably.

“Johnny… The one who calls himself ‘The Nightwalker.’ You will reveal yourself to us, or more people will die needlessly for your insurrection and callous disregard for the order of the Agency,” the figure spoke deep, voice distorted. “This woman, her death, as well as the millions of others across the world, their blood is on your hands, Nightwalker. They have all DIED because you refuse the gift of the Agency. You… and you alone are the sole soul responsible.” The sobbing woman was then turned around to face the camera. “Watch. Listen. As the plague ravages her body and the rest of these people.”

The nanomachines then shot out in all directions, emitting an invisible gas that made the people crazy. They clawed their eyes out, bashed each other’s brains in, ripped limbs off each other, sexually assaulted the weak, cannibalized on their flesh. He released the woman from his grasp. Her skin began to boil and turn red. Her shrieks of terror flooded the room with the others. She flailed around on the floor, ripping her hair and skin off, then her ears. She bit her fingers off after. So much blood.


Pestilence knelt down beside the woman and cocked his head to the side. He observed her, studying perhaps. She twitched uncontrollably and gargled on her blood and vomit; her cries stifled by a slow and painful death.

The lone old man sat at his news desk. He raised a gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. He slumped over onto the desk; his brains splattered on the shell of his former co-anchor that had already expired during the commotion.

Pestilence sighed. “An admirable feat. He was a lucky one.” He then stared into the camera lens. “Turn yourself in and this all ends. Continue to rebel… “ he paused and gave a slight grin, “and the world burns, with you along with it.”

The live feed was then cut off.


It was the last Horsemen to address Johnny that day.

Johnny sat with his head in his hands.

It hadn’t been long since the Horsemen emerged and were unleashed unto the world. People died. Chico and the others were all that remained of Earth’s last line of defense. The climate had been manipulated in some areas, causing flooding, abnormal weather patterns, hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes, and more.

Species were extinct and were on the brink of extinction. Mankind… was close as well. Johnny and the others needed time; to study, to learn their opponents weaknesses. It seemed, however, there was little to none to exploit.

“I have to do something. It’s too much,” Johnny said with tears in his eyes. “I can’t stand watching all these people die because of me.”

“What do ya think there gonna do to ya, lad? They’ll kill ya on the damn spot!” said Red.

“There won’t be anyone to protect at this rate. There won’t be a Human race…” Johnny’s voice trailed off. “There will be nothing but ruin and chaos.”

Johnny pictured where Pestilence was at, and he thought hard. He felt the rage swelling up inside. “I am done hiding.”

Inside, something “clicked” and before Red and Chico, he vanished.

“Lad, where did ya go?!”



Johnny opened his eyes and looked around at the bloodshed and chaos that had been unleashed upon the world. The sky was red and orange; whether it was from the blood that was spilled or the fires that raged on all around him.

A voice spoke from behind him. “So, you’ve come. You were wise to give yourself up, Nightwalker. However, I fear you are… too late to save these ‘people.’”

“I am going to make you, and the others, pay for your crimes against humanity,” said Johnny.

“Yes, well, let’s see how you stand up… against the Plague,” replied Pestilence as he motioned his nanomachines to circle Johnny. “Bear witness, to the apocalypse… now!”



A man augmented with a special type of armor over his skull; which reacts to his emotions, and can emphasize his facial features has begun setting course an action plan on his own. Having grown tired of the Angency’s lack of control over the other handlers, and the ever-growing threat that is Johnny Jones aka The Nightwalker. Omega, has decided to take matters into his hands, with the assistance of one, Dr. Widow.

Having gained entry to a secret laboratory, Omega pressures a technical assistant to gain access to the Four Horsemen Project, four prodigal brothers* who were subjected to the Omega Project, then changed to the Apocalypse Military Program; a program under military guise that would make any country submit to the handler’s country or current employer.

This is where we begin the end.

*Death is exempt from being gender identified as during the DNA manipulation sequencing and program changes, they underwent changes that made them genderless. They simply exists now as an incorporeal shadowy figure. However, in terms of assassination and combat, they can appear and take on any gender as a means to get close to the victim.

He had paced for several moments in the lab. “What’s the hold up?”

“There’s a slight issue with getting around the security protocols,” said the computer tech lackey. 

The giant man placed his hands on the shoulders of the man who furiously pressed keys on the keyboard. “You have two minutes remaining, or I snap you like a twig.”

“I am going as fast as I can!”

“One minute.”

Around ten seconds remaining, the man jumped out of his chair and took several steps back, “I’m through, I’m through!”

The skull-faced man grinned, his visage sending a shiver racing down the man’s spine. “Good. Now, activate them,” he said.

The techie walked back to his chair and sat down at the computer. “Are you sure? They’ve proven to be unreliable lately.”

The skull seemed to glow red with anger, “Did I stutter? I told you to activate them… now!”

In another room, the fluid-filled cylinders drained. They had been sent back for… reprogramming as a result of their latest mission which had been labeled as a failure by Agency standards.

The skull-faced man entered the room to examine each subject. One. Two. Three. Four. Their eyes all opened. Lifeless. Absent of any care in the world. Each one stepped out in front of their corresponding tube. The skull-faced man stopped before the first of the four.

The first specialist knelt down, “Pestilence.”

The next… “Famine.”

And the next… “…”

The skull-man motioned his head back towards the techie, “This one does not kneel or speak before it’s master?” The computer lackey shrugged through the looking glass behind his computer desk.

The dark figure remained motionless, with the shadows hiding its face. “Death has no master,” they replied. A frosty vapor spewed out.

The man nodded at the remark. “Justifiable.”

Finally, there stood War. “And you? Why do you not kneel?”

“I am a herald of destruction… and Death’s brother.  There is no one superior to us. Any of us.”

“I beg to differ, puppet.”

“You dare attempt to supersede us? By what way? A clever light show with smoke and mirrors, or perhaps your silver tongue?”

The skull-man grinned, “I have no need for justification of my actions, nor clarifying in what way I could dismantle you, and your ‘brothers.’ Just know that with a flick of my wrist, I can bring you down faster than you can say “Bob’s your uncle, Morty.’”

War squared up, while Death only watched unwaveringly; their brothers remained kneeling.

The skull-faced man sighed. “I would rather not have you go to waste and be replaced by another, War.”

“War… is eternal. Even in times of peace, so long as someone holds hatred in their heart, I shall exist.”

The now red raging skull-man grabbed War in the blink of an eye and motioned to snap his neck. “And you are but a tool to a god, bred and designed to do his bidding. So either comply or die. The rest of your brothers will not be far behind. I recommend you choose wisely.”

War thought about the situation and looked to his brothers. The eyes… they flickered with what humanity remained. It was enough to make him kneel.

Death, however, did not.

“Death… We have work to do,” said War.

Death nodded, its cloak moving in acknowledgment.

“I am Omega,” he smiled sadistically, turning his back to the four specialists, “and my friends, we have much work to carry out… starting with Johnny Jones. Kill him with any means necessary.” He turned around and faced the four, his skull returning to a grey-white hue. “Collateral damage is… encouraged. Make. Him. Suffer.” he said enthusiastically.

War struggled with his words, “The Horsemen answer your call… master.” The others gave a slight bow.


Johnny Nightwalker: The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

Johnny is killed by Pierre. T.C. aka “Snake” the Handler sent by the Agency then confronts Pierre and the others. Read on for more….

“It’s nothing personal, my friend. It’s just business, and I am in the business of making things go away.” Pierre then sighed.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing when we’re both on the same side?” Johnny asked.

Pierre radioed for his cat squadron, “Return to the Nest. The enemy is in the immediate quadrant.”

Johnny stared on bewildered.

“It’s not you, kid, it’s just business,” Pierre said. In a swift motion, he leaped through the air towards Johnny.

He could tell something was amiss. That killing him wasn’t the intention of Pierre. Go along; Johnny heard Pierre in his mind. He fell off the bench and appeared to be lifeless. Sure enough, the real threat had been lurking—drawing closer.

“NO!” Red and Chico cried, rushing to Johnny’s side.

The familiar assassin’s voice emerged from being cloaked. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I see that I was wrong.”

Pierre hopped off the still body of Johnny. “I told you I meant business. You’re next you know that, right, T.C.?”

“Heh, you think you can take on an advanced Handler because you downed a runt? Pathetic,” said the cat who morphed into a raven.

“You think flying will save you? Haven’t you learned that this is my turf? I control it. It is mine, and mine alone!” Pierre became angry. “AND THAT THERE IS NO ONE IN THE AGENCY WHO CAN CONTEST OTHERWISE!”

People in the park all turned and watched the spectacle. Some recorded the action and invisible conversation. In the distance, sirens wailed; coming closer each moment.

Be quick. Pierre fixated on the bird. “Fire.”

Red lasers erupted from several directions at the Raven. “You think I am dumb enough to fall for your cheap tricks? I believe you’re losing your touch, Pierre.”

“Then you would have seen me coming…” said Pierre as he appeared in the air behind T.C. clawing his wings and slamming him back down to the ground.

The bird moaned and bled. It shapeshifted into a large bear and clawed at the cat and its advancing army. “I still have tricks up my sleeve as well!”

“Johnny, I think it’s time for you to awaken,” said Pierre.

“WHAT,” the bear roared.

Johnny reached to his feet and readied himself for a fight against the bear. “T.C. I don’t think you want to do this. You were forced into it, molded to become something you’re not. I know the feeling. I don’t want to have to fight against other people, let alone be some heralded hero. We can bring the Agency to the knees and remake the world for the better of humanity.”

At first, it seemed the bear was heeding Johnny’s words, thinking about them. “It’s too late for me. There is no changing what I have become.”


The police had made their way into the park.

“Don’t let the Agency control you anymore. They will just destroy you: use you, discard you like refuse, and let you die. They don’t care about you,” Johnny said.

T.C. put his head down and sighed, “I know.”

“Detonation engaged.”

The bear searched himself frantically as a beeping increased in frequency. “No—no! I am not yet finished!”

“What’s going on?” Johnny asked.

“We’ve got to run! Now!” Pierre shouted and ran.

Johnny and the others all followed suit.

“You sons of bitches!” T.C. shouted as he erupted into a fiery blaze that scorched the area.

For a moment, Johnny had thought he heard T.C. say something in his mind before the explosion took him. The police were now scouring the area for suspected terrorists.


Later that night, Pierre and Johnny conversed.

“I apologize for making a threat on your life, my friend.”

Johnny smiled, “It’s OK. I understand you were just trying to help.”

“You’re quite the actor. Have you ever thought of going into the arts?”

“Ha ha, no. I am afraid I wouldn’t have the time anyway due to the happenings in the world…and what will soon come to pass.”

Pierre nodded. “A noble cause in such a young life.” He then reached for a small cigarette and lit it.

“I have to say, it is interesting to see a cat smoke,” said Johnny.

Pierre shrugged, “Life is shit, get to know this, and you’ll go far. Succumb to the lollygagging, and it’s you putting your head between your knees kissing your ass goodbye.”

“Fair enough.”

Johnny had thoughts on what made Pierre who he is, and what the Agency had wanted with him.

“Ah, you wish to know? I suppose I can indulge in a bit of nostalgia,” said the smoking cat.

“I used to work for the government. I was a top assassin sent to pick off the most wanted, plant false evidence, set up wars and skirmishes. I was the night’s shadow and those who knew my name feared me.” He sighed, “And then,” he took a puff on the cigarette, “then I retired. Started a family, tried to live the American Dream. Is it rubbish you know? That dream is just that, especially to an assassin.” Pierre’s eyes welled up a little. “Then, I was approached to do one more job. If I refused, my family would be killed. All of them. Anyone in my family tree still alive.” He sniffled and put the cigarette out, then lit another. “So, naturally, I agreed. I knew they would not be gentle with me, and I was right. I went through the testing. I was tortured, beaten, interrogated, trained, and then subjected to the animal DNA splicing and merging testing. It was a test different than what you or some of the handlers went through, or what Red and Chico went through.” Pierre stared off into the distance, “This one…this one was where they brought my family in,” he started to choke on his words, “they brought them in and killed them in front of me. They showed me videos of anyone still living in my family tree being killed. Then, then they had the gall to cut their heads off and put them in the cell with me.” Tears rolled down Pierre’s furry cheeks. “I wanted them dead—the Agency. I knew, though that I had to play along. I had to coach myself to bypass their ‘thought detection’ system to keep it a secret. I started missions, was given a new name.” He puffed on the cigarette. “Then, I became a terrorist. An asset of the government to create war, strife, and a political movement. I took to that role quite well. I met others like me on my travels. As such, my army grew. We then began to retaliate. I cut off any communication with the Agency and killed their messengers as they’d come, shipping their heads back as gifts.”

Pierre looked at Johnny. “What they do, there is nothing good that comes out of it. Not even us, the ones who fight.”

“But we have the capability to change that and fight against it,” said Johnny.

Pierre smiled. “And that, my friend, is why we are going to win.”

They both looked up at the starry sky and bright full moon. “This world, she is worth saving. The people, they are too; even the misguided ones,” said Pierre.

Johnny nodded. “I will help guide them on the path of redemption and gain them the vengeance they deserve…we all deserve.”


Johnny Nightwalker: Victim or Hostage?

Johnny and Pierre have a long talk about things. There is also an explosion.

Pierre pulled a pin from a hand grenade and tossed it at Johnny.

“What the hell!” Johnny shrieked, ducking behind a dumpster.

The French Cat shrugged, “It’s just a party favor.”

A loud pop was heard, as confetti and glitter exploded everywhere in the air.

“Are you insane?” Johnny questioned, peering behind the dumpster.

Pierre smirked at the remark. “I do have a reputation after all. Now, come, let us take our leave.”

After a short walk, the small army of cats, squirrels, and Chihuahua came to rest with Johnny at a park.

Johnny looked around, noting the busy park goers. “I thought we were going somewhere discreet?”

Pierre snickered, “My boy, being in the open is probably the most tactful thing you can do.”

“Then why didn’t we just stay in the alleyway?”

“Because, my human compatriot, we were still being watched from afar. Now that we are here, we can blend in, and we have witnesses—or hostages—to our advantages. Just trust me.” Pierre then turned to Red and his squirrels. “I recommend your party fan out and take to the trees. We must act natural.” Red nodded and motioned his team to disperse. Pierre then turned to Chico, “Be a good dog and sit on your owner’s lap, will you? We can’t risk the general populous discovering a talking dog.” Chico snorted and laid down at Johnny’s feet. The cat smirked and then continued to address his cats to leave the immediate area, “Fan out, scout, survey, and be on the lookout for him. He’ll most likely try to come through here. I know it.”

“Who?” asked Johnny.

“TC…or as you met him, ‘Snake,’” replied Pierre.

“Wouldn’t it be obvious that a black cat is slinking around in a park?”

“He’s not some simpleton feline, my friend. He’s a master of disguise…” Pierre paused, “and a Handler.”

Johnny and the others raised an eyebrow. “He’s a Handler? But he’s just a cat!”

Pierre shook his head, “No, he can manipulate any form he wishes: cat, bird, dog, or a person.”

Johnny scratched his head. “Well, how can you tell then that he would be around here?”

Pierre grinned, “All of my cats are equipped with a unique lens that detects the anomaly that a shapeshifter does when they change shape. In short, they have a special kind of signature that only we can tell.”

Johnny secretly admired the idea of shapeshifting and being able to manipulate any form. While doing so he also had the thought occur of being a cat with human arms, mid-air, punching someone; causing him to snicker.

“Something funny, friend?” asked Pierre.

“Ah, it was just a random thought I had. Don’t worry about it,” said Johnny.

Pierre chuckled, “Hmm, hmm, I bet you did. Something about a cat and man arms, right?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s a bit of a gift. Something I’ve been endowed with.” Pierre sighed. “Anyway, we have some business to discuss. I suggest we sit and have a chat about the future of the world.” Pierre motioned towards the wood bench that was behind Johnny.

The boy and his dog conversed with the French cat that was secretly a terrorist.

“What are your goals? What do you hope to achieve? Where do you see yourself in five years?” Pierre asked.

“Is…this a job interview or a discussion about the Agency?” Johnny replied.

“Just testing you; strange, yes, I know.” Pierre gazed into Johnny’s eyes. “Look into my eyes, friend. I want to see what you know.”

“That sounds pretty creepy, you know,” said Johnny.

Pierre laughed. “Yes, it does. Have you never heard that the ‘eyes are the windows to the soul?’”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Pierre’s voice turned stern, “Then look…and do not stray.”

Johnny fixated on Pierre’s gaze, becoming uncomfortable.

Several moments passed, and several passersby looked at the strange boy with his dog and cat. Remarking that they were “weird” or “probably in love with their animals.”

“I see. I am sorry for your loss, Jonathan. Jerry seemed like he would have been a good man one day,” said Pierre.

“He was. Sometimes he still helps me in my dreams,” replied Johnny.

“Hmm, quite a helpful lad he is.” Pierre took in a deep breath, “Well, since I know what I need to. I am going to have to kill you.”

“Wait, what?” Johnny recoiled from the cat.