Heartbeat.

At first there was only darkness. Then a smile.

Crows and other creatures ran for shelter as Jefferson Williams ran out into his field carrying his wooden base rifle. The milk he spilled when he first heard the scream stained his overalls. He wasn't quite sure of what he heard but wasn't ready to take a chance. Smoke was rising from his fields, blacker than he had ever seen it. At first, he thought some of the boys from town had torched his plants, or maybe even it was one of the escaped slaves he had heard from the Johnsons back west. He ran through the stalks toward the scar left in his field ready to face anyone. But when he arrived, he realized it was neither boys nor slaves, what he found there was much worse. The plants had been burnt to ashes in a big circle, however, there was no fire, the smoke seemed to pour straight out of the ground. Two charred bodies lay on opposite ends of it. In the center, there was a man in peculiar clothing. The man crouched and slowly stood up, raising his glace first to Jefferson, then to the sky. Jefferson began to turn white.

"Who in god's name are you?" The man turned to Jefferson, almost beginning to ask himself the same question, but the man said nothing. This stranger must have started the fire and killed two people, but he couldn't tell if he knew either of the victims or maybe it was an angel come to smite him for his sins, Jefferson thought to himself quickly. Or maybe it was worse. He had many sins unaccounted for, many that the angel could punish him for. He thought o the time he shot Louis J. Rockwell for attempting to run him out of his land unfairly. Maybe it was his ghost come from the dead to take back life lost. Looked nothing like him, but Jefferson had heard of powerful demons roaming the land and twisting souls in order to fulfill the devil's wishes. "R-R-R-Rockwell? Is that you?"

The man made an attempt to walk closer to Jefferson, but Jefferson raised his weapon at him. Ghost or not, he wasn't about to die. "B-b-back off! I'm warning you!" The man continued closer to Jefferson, who closed his eyes and pulled the trigger on the weapon. The shot was loud enough to be heard a kilometer around the farm, but no one else was there but the two men in the field. Jefferson opened his eyes to see the man on the ground.

Pain flooded the man's mind for the first time. Within a minute, it was gone, leaving only a bitter taste in the man's mouth. Jefferson began to shake as he saw the man stand back up. No one had survived a bullet wound to the head like that before. This must be Satan! Jefferson thought quickly, shooting at the man four more times. These shots weren't as lucky, hitting the man in the chest and stomach. The man bent over onto the ground holding his chest, wheezing for air. Air, something that hadn't crossed his mind before. Then he stopped, as the man in the suit realized he didn't need to breathe, he didn't need air. The pain receded from his body as the man fixed his glare on Jefferson, speaking his first words. "My turn."

There was very little left of Jefferson Williams once the man in the suit exacted his revenge. Nothing that anyone could ever find. The man watched as the blood on his clothing melted away, leaving what was black black, and turning what became red back to white. He mused that maybe that was too primal of him, but couldn't deny that it felt very good. He turned his view back to the sky. There was much to learn. He found himself smiling for reasons he didn't quite understand. Everything in due time, though, he told himself. But he needed something to call himself, a temporary name, until he found his own. He fixed his gaze back at the blood marks on the ground. "Rockwell." It would do for now. He looked back straight at the sun. A small amount of constant pain began to erupt in his eyes, but after an hour or so, he became used to it. It meant nothing to him on a grand scale. Although at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to blot out that light. He wasn't sure why, and watched some birds fly by.

Then something dark from inside told him to head north. There was work to do.