Martin walked trough the forest in silence. Without sight or sound, he perceived every shape and color, every ripple in the air. He knew his path and stroled while deep in thought. He knew he was close when he felt his memory of Johnathan, the knight standing over his grave. Martin remembered burying him out of respect, although he didn't realize the meaning at the time. He also remembered the sword, in his memory it had been a large red ceramic blade, surprisingly light and razor sharp.
As he saw it now it was a symbol, one of faith and perseverance. It felt wrong when he picked it up. Martin knew it wasn't meant for the plans that ran trough Martins mind.
But the blade was re-purposed, it was now blessed with the profane purpose of bringing suffering. If it ever had a name, Martin decided to rename it to 'fallen one'.

Martin stood with the Crimson blade in hand, now as light as a feather to him. On his belt hung the vapor machine, he had refilled it with blood. It had long since gone cold, but was still fresh enough, he could still notice the potential energy flow trough when he touched the bag. Now he concentrated on Kilo Point. Hundreds of lives, hundreds of beating hearts.
*da dum* *da dum* *da dum*
Together they formed a weird melody, beckoning Martin.
With a light pace he walked over to the city and into the shadows.