False in Some Sense
The Automaton Hunter
The people who’ve met him, those friends of Michael, haven’t known him very long. A few hours at most. But so far, a few patterns emerge.
He used to be a police officer in Gary, Indiana. Hell, he waltzed in and out of the local precinct in Terra Lake; it took a while, but nobody got arrested.
He’s grizzled. Maybe in his fifties.
He also hunts Automata.
Nobody knows who they are or where they come from, but these things, these Automata, they replace people. Maybe the people act normal. Maybe they act strange. But really, they’re not your people anymore. They’ve been replaced. Who does it? He doesn’t know. He just knows they need to be stopped, and he’ll keep killing them until they go away. You can always tell them from normal humans because they fall apart into piles of junk when they die.
Of course, he’s also got a charm that lets him differentiate the two. That helps considerably.
At least it did, anyway. The good word has it that he died. Messily. Maybe around 4:30 in the morning. Something broke into his room and ripped him apart. Wrote “I own this town” on his wall. With him. The police don’t know what to think. It almost couldn’t have been a person, but it couldn’t have just been an animal, either. Was it a crazy person? Someone with an animal, perhaps?
Of course, at least to some, the mystery is solved. That is not dead which can eternal lie and all that; it seems he is stuck on this plane as one of the restless dead, urged to exist until that Thing is dead. Yes, it seems the Thing did him in, at least according to him. He says something is sick in this town, and that the assembled party needs to stop it.
And stop it they did. Rhys manifested briefly, hazy and indistinct, and mouthed something before he was enveloped in a subtle light. Maybe he finally found the peace he sought.
Also, credit where credit is due. Image source:
Cult of the Sea King. Nobo MovieWorks. Retrieved January 21, 2009, from http://www.nothingevil.com/cult.html