An electronic euphoria of sawtooths, squarewaves, and noise blared out from the monitor which often dualed as television set. Flashing images of colorful sprites danced and burned into the phosphorus lining on the aging monitor casting jittering shadows across the unlit room. Anyone standing outside the room's window, which would have been quite a feat since the room was actually a studio located on the 12th floor of a towering apartment complex, would have seen an electric pulsing of lights. Flashes of blueish white intermingled with dulled out reds seeped through the thin curtains and into the night sky.

Necromancer thought to himself.

This is where it all began.

This is when I first realized what my calling was. Hours upon hours of playing unfullfilling video games. Arcades, shooters, platforms, even those old text adventures. I have played them all over the years. But I always longed for something more.

This is when I realized what that something was. Knowledge. Absolute, undeniable knowledge. How simple it seems now. But hard it was to realize for the first time.

With a screech of white noise mixed with harsh sawtooths, Necromancer watched his last ship vanish into a pixelated explosion. Deep reds and oranges filled his room in one quick burst of electric light. With a quick flick of a switch, Necromancer shut down the aging Commodore system and replaced the Zaxxon cartridge into its protective case.

It still amazed Necromancer that this unit still functioned. Although not his original, the unit had been with him for 30 years, and was atleast 20 years old before that. He had lost his first unit in the Great Electric Storm of 2012. Simple chance had it where he had just unplugged his second unit right before the storm swept through his area. Necromancer had taken that new first-hand knowledge of Murphy's Law to heart and was infinately more cautious with his equiptment today.

With his ritual return to the point in which everything began, Necromancer walked over to his coat closet and opened the door. In the closet was a dark brown leather trenchcoat hanging alone towards the right side of the closet. A hat of matching color, which looked like it may have come right out of a 1950's private-eye movie, rested on the top shelf next to a old wooden fold-up chess board, complete with brass locks.

Necromancer removed three candles from the bottom left of the closet and placed them in a equilateral trinagle in the center of his studio floor. The floor was all hardwood. He had always thought hardwood floors were always the easiest to clean, and definately better for his meditations. The firm, textured, wooden surface provided one with a focal point of thought from which one could zoom outside of oneself and into a proper meditative trance.

With the candles in place, and the room shut off into darkness, Necromancer sat down into the middle of the triad of unlit candles in such a way that one candle faced before him between the window and himself while the other two were behind and aside from him.

Necromancer picked up his Quiky-Light and reached behind and towards the left of him to light the first candle. With a quick press of his thumb on the ignition switch, a spark flung out into the ignition chamber and gave birth to burst of blueish-green flame. With a quick whooshing sound the flame left the ignition chamber and engufled the wick of the candle.

This candle represents the Yang. It brings the warmth which drives my creative thoughts. It is the light which guides me towards the Truth.

The next candle, Necromancer lit was behind and to the right of him. Again, the candle leaped to life with a quick press of the trigger on his Quicky-Light.

This candle represents the Yin. It is the cold which subdues my destructive thoughts. It is the darkness which shades the Truth.

Necromancer focused his attention on the last candle. Another press of the trigger and the candle glimmered with the light of a soft toungue of flame.

This candle represents the Truth. It is the guiding light from which I must follow. It is the path among many that I must find and then reconize. It is the force that drives me through life.

Necromancer held this last thought. His lips silently, slightly moving as he recanted the words in his head. His eyes never wavering from the dancing flame before him.

Fifteen minutes passed and the sweat had begun to bead on Necromancer's skin. Still focused, Necromancer continued his silent chant, yearning for that state of trance. The persperation soon began to roll down his forehead and onto his brow. The sweat threatened to drip into his eyes and Necromancer reluctantly let his eyelids fall shut.

It is not long now.

Images began to form in front of his eyes. At first they began as a swirl of colors. Reds, oranges, blues, greens, and yellows circled around each other in an abusive display of tackish appeal. In stark contrast the colorful collage, a murky black void starting as a nothing more than a dot grew in size until it filled the entire field fo vision.

Now it has begun.

A scene of a dark alley began to emerge through the murkiness. Old, decrepit buildings appeared on either side of the unending alley. Grey stone gone green with years of algae deposits could be seen on either side.

A red-brick road lined the ground worn from the years of neglect and abuse. Most were cracked, split into two or more pieces and some were completely missing. No two adjacent bricks were level with one another and the uneven pavement steched on as far as the eye could see.

Cylindrical metal trash receptacles littered the area. It seemed ironic that these remained empty while the floor around them were covered in piles of various bits of paper, rotting food, and other waste. Clouds of steam rose up from the iron sewer grates on each side of the building filling the entire alley with a thin fog.

Running would be difficult here.

Necromancer began to walk down the alley to explore this vision. As he pushed through the clouds of rising steam, a shadowed figure of a woman began to make itself clear. Closer and closer he approached the apparition until he could make it out fairly clearly.

The woman had her back turned to him and long, thin, jet-black hair flowed off her head like a waterfall coming to rest at the small of her back. The woman wore skin-hugging black leather pants and a small, black, leather halter. Black leather boots came up to her mid calf and added atleast two inches to her total height.

The woman took off and ran at a pace faster than Necromancer thought possible considering the terrain and the heels that she wore. Necromancer began giving chase. Steadily he gained on her as the buildings raced past him in a grey/green blur.

Still chasing, Necromancer reached out his hand and grabbed for the woman's shoulder. The woman turned around, flinging her hair in a wild dance which gave it the appearance of being alive. The vision raced in towards the asian face of the woman and froze. She wore a deep, dark, almost black, blue eye-shadow and crimson red lipstick. The makeup stood out strongly against the pale complexion. Necromancer reconized the face immeadiatly.

Asuka.

Necromancer snapped back into reality with such a violent jerk that he threw himself to the floor. The candles had burned out and letting a steady stream of smoke rise out from their wicks. A repeating series of three beeps followed by a second of silence filled Necromancer's ears.

So that is what interupted my trance.

Agitated by the intrusion, Necromancer flipped open his wristcom and began to speak in a fairly resentful tone, "Who is it?"

A familiar voice rang out from the watch sized device, "Necromancer, I am sorry to disturb you, but... its Leviathan... she's been... well, you better just get down here."

So they make the first move.