This job sucks. Yes, I needed something. Yes, the rent was due. No… no, I should not have been in such a rush to grab the cash. I should have read the fine print in that contract.

Success at last. It was a challenging transition, but the poncho men had a foothold in this world. The continued to meld, one by one into the alleyway. Soon they would be legion. Soon they would remake the colors of this world.

It was a warm day, but not a hot one. Carrying the bag of tools, the mapping equipment and the supplies was an effort, but not an extraordinary one. The quest had almost become routine. Almost.

Endless searching. They couldn’t say that anymore. They’d finally found it.

Now they could step through.

She had seen the old movies, heard the old stories. Working alone, in the desert with all the parts she could scrounge she would create her own gateway. The power was not there right now, but it would come. She was Noah for the modern age. She had faith. She would travel, she would survive.

The right light was the key. The creator dabbed a brush, then flipped the next creation off the dock. As the page touched the water it transformed, dropping another creature into the mix. “Perhaps more gray for the next one. Maybe more teeth?”

Was there danger? Of course there was danger. There was always danger, but the sins of my past made it worth the risk. I climbed. I reached. I was dizzy with the pheromones of death floating around me. I had tunnel vision. I could see the light. I moved toward the light. I reached for the light. The light so bright. The light so beautiful. Sinking forever into the dazzling light.

The scorching, raging pain of burning myself reaching for that beauty. I fell. I am scarred.

I will reach again.

We have seen what the traction league has come to. We watched the battle for survival and the losses suffered by those who chose to simply fortify the mountain in place. We have combined the great engines and the mountain. We shall be safe in our fortress. We shall rule the sky.

We must haunt him.

Wake him. How can we haunt him if he will not awaken to see us? Touch him.

We cannot. There is a barrier.

Shake him. Move the barrier. Quickly, our time is short.

We cannot. The barrier defies us. He sleeps the sleep of the exhausted. He will not acknowledge us.

Perhaps he is shaken already. Perhaps his struggles outweigh us. We must move on.

We move on.

It’s a simple word. An easy concept. The act of keeping something within limits. The process of preventing the expansion of a hostile power. Light knows that Darkness needs to be held in check. It’s not a new idea. It’s been practiced and attempted for longer than people know. Those who don’t study history and all that.

Darkness feels Light straining to enter unwanted places. Corners exposed, shadows shifted and a new vision of place and purpose. Darkness slips away and fades as light expands, but then creeps around and steals back into unwatched rooms and back alleys. Shadows always slide in unnoticed.

Sometimes it’s not so easy. Sometimes the darkness pushes limits. Puts a strain on boundaries, forces the pressure to build. Light pushes back. These forces battle unseen. The fight rages in secret back rooms, penthouse suites, shopping mall corridors and occasionally in hotel basements. Daunting, dangerous and fiercely contested these battle rage with the only true victory being the safety of those who don’t know.

That is our place. That is our purpose. The cleaners.

Light and Dark may rage and storm. Battles may be won or lost. Our only mandate is secrecy. Patching the walls to replace the char of a light blast. Repainting the ceiling to remove the stains of dampness. Unwinding the stray threads shimmering in a curtain, trying to dampen the effectiveness of a simple defense for Darkness. Sometimes mopping up liquified darkness and replacing carpet…