jla_watchtower | On the edge of Darkness

The sound of his footsteps punctuated the brisk pace of his stride along the concrete sidewalk. Errant weeds poked through the cracked surface. Old tree roots had tunneled under the walkway for years and had transformed the once flat footpath into an uneven and broken trail of fractured cement. Despite the abundant water table so close to the topsoil in the area and the recent deluge of rain, all remnants of plant life had turned brown and dry as they neared the property line.

With a long satchel filled with undisclosed odds and ends slung over his shoulder, the man who was once known as the Demons Head stopped and looked up at the gaunt house before him. His eyes studied the edifice carefully. Details both small and gross were noted and evaluations were either revised or confirmed. The puzzling aberrations he noted earlier all fell into line, now that he had the missing pieces to the puzzle.

It was time to get to work.