Pain...

Everything hurt.

It hurt to breath.

It hurt to think.

It hurt to move.

But that is exactly what he did. His fingers flexed in the dirt of the forest floor as the body lay sprawled out upon it. Several other bodies lay strewn around him, or slumped up against trees. He could only see them because of the light of the dying campfire illuminated them – the eerie orange glow painting them into a ghastly tapestry. Despite the number of bodies, only his drew breath. Only his body ached with the pains of being alive, the painful throb that each thought brought with it as it passed through his mind.

You have to move, Nova. Get up.

There it was again, that voice that spoke to him. The same voice that he remembered, the voice that 'woke' him from his slumber.

More will be coming, Nova.

He had to move. That voice had yet to be wrong in anything it told him; it had told him he would find this location, and that it would be scarcely guarded. He'd acted upon the impulse, but found himself surrounded by several people, each armed and looking to harm him. The resulting fight had been messy, to say the least; bodies were strewn in places, ripped apart as if pulled in two by horses. One poor woman, the last person to fall, was skinned alive – her flesh grabbed and ripped from her body while she kicked and screamed in the monster's hands. But he remembered none of this – no, his mind hurt too much to remember much of that. Thier screams had pushed all rationality from his mind, leaving only a monster hidden in human flesh behind. When the screaming stopped, slowly the mind returned, like a timid animal peering its head out of the burrow it hid in when it sensed danger.

Get up!

Another thought, another shot of pain through his skull. With a groan, the male began to flex his limbs and digits once more. As he began to attempt to sit his six foot zero frame up, he came to realize just why his chest was hurting when he drew breath; there were several slashes and cuts upon it were still bleeding, as well as three shuriken embedded in in his left side. The did not seem to have hit anything vital, but they did bleed as he removed them with his right hand. He would have used his done it with his left hand, but the kunai that was protruding from his palm was making that rather difficult; a sharp tug, and a scream of pain later and the Kunai was free. The bleeding grew more intense with the kunai free, and the male had nothing on hand really to stop the bleeding. Unless...

Cloth was ripped from the dead bodies to form a dressing. The Kunai was heated until it glowed in the fire, then pressed to the wound to cauterize and close it. Once the cloth was wrapped and secured as best he could on his had, the male looked around. There were supplies here; food items that he could take with him to keep himself from going hungry. He did not care that he was looting the dead – if they valued their lives, they would have just given him their stuff when he asked, he would not have to given them death in the manner that he did.

It was truly better to give than to receive.

But it was fine to him. Now that he was calm, he did not mind killing. He simply viewed their deaths as a matter of necessity – it was either going to be him, or them, and obviously, he was still standing. Speaking of standing, one he gathered what supplies he felt he would need, he would begin to walk, not particularly caring or noticing what direction he was heading in. Something told him that the metal head bands each person he killed was wearing meant something – they were all identical, so the male assumed they were part of some organization. He had no clue if it consisted of just them, or if there were more of them, but he did not want to chance it...

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