Evil lurked in the bowels of the building. The Guardian’s nose twitched. He could smell it, seeping out of the microscopic cracks in the wall. Evil. He could feel it to his bones. The Others, they were oblivious. They slept the comfortable sleep of the naive, dreaming of sunshine and happy days. No evil shadow disturbed their slumbers. But the evil was there, in the walls.
The guardian silently and gracefully moved from room to room, pouring around the corners, flowing down the hall. The evil would make its move, invade the house. It would be a fierce battle of the wits, but the Guardian knew that with his Right he had Might. Once he drew the evil out of its hiding place it would soon be over. But the Guardian had to be sure he had the right spot for the confrontation.
A sound, a simple sound coming from the wall alerted him. That was the place the evil would congeal and become a physical object. That was the place. But he must work to make it so.
The Guardian melted into the shadow, invisible to the evil, yet using his massive powers to coax the evil into the open. The evil was powerful when using the structure of the building to support it, but once physical and out in the room all of its powers would be for naught.
The Guardian waited unmoving. An hour went by. Two hours. Three. A new sound, a scratch from the wall, a smell; the Guardian knew the time for the showdown had come.
It took all of his power, but the Guardian silently coaxed the evil out. The evil resisted with its power. It could easily hide in the walls and exert its power over the Others. They would slip into its grasp and become prisoners, its mental slaves, zombie servants. Oh, the Others were feeble minded creatures, but they had their purpose. The Guardian must protect them.
The evil congealed into a ball of fur and came out into the room. The Guardian didn’t give it time to understand its mistake, he pounced. The evil escaped, but was wounded and unable to meld back into the walls. It was trapped in the physical universe. The Guardian knew he couldn’t let up and let the evil recuperate, he must find it and strike again while it was weak.
A movement. A flash of fur. The Guardian pounced again with deadly accuracy. The Others would be proud.
“Oh, the cat got another mouse.”
“I wondered where he was all night. I’ll get the body and put it in the outside trash.”
“Ugh, how awful. But look how pleased with himself he is, so proud of his catch!”
“He’s a good kitty, protecting us from those evil mice.”
“Ha! I’m sure that’s what he thinks.”
The silly Others. If only they knew the truth, if only they knew.