Peter studied his opponent with a very smooth and critical eye. He ascertained almost immediately that this ‘Satan’ character was not a character to be messed with. Peter possessed a gift he referred to as his 7th sense. Possibly a genetic mutation passed on through countless generations of gunmen, hired killers and mercenaries, imbibed him with this special gift. Perhaps it was luck or imagination. Whichever it was or wasn’t, it gave Peter the power to immediately understand the potential harm a person might do. On his own personal ‘harm scale’ this ‘Satan’ registered right off it. In fact, the amount of perceived harm this ‘Satan’ guy radiated nearly made Peter’s eyes bleed. And other things cautioned Peter’s sense of danger. Peter also felt a dull stab in his mind, way back in the general vicinity of his subconscious. Something very strange was happening, but his facilities couldn’t properly deal with whatever it was.

Peter summoned a calm over himself–having had a lot of practice at this over much time–and gazed slowly into the piercing eyes of the stranger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister. Now beat it,” he said, hoping to hide the quaver in his voice.

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