My name is Alex, and I live in a small town. I'm just some guy you see on the street and try to ignore.

I have a knack for being lucky, so I like games that involve a little chance.

Last week, I was playing cards with some random people. People wouldn't play me if they knew me. But that night, there was this one guy in particular. The guy had a strange feel about him. He was quite skilled, almost a match for my luck.

The game went back and forth between the two of us, and every so often, one of the other players would quit, when they realised that luck wasn't with them....though it never took long for another to take their place. After a long night, I finally came out on top.

Amongst the winnings, the strange guy had bet a card...an ace of spades with an interesting design upon it: a series of black swirls. The guy said it was his luck charm....that he'd never lost so much before.

As I picked up the card and looked at the design, trying to understand what the artist had intended it to represent, I felt an odd chill crawl along my spine. I thought the chill was simply a reaction to the excitement of a good game.

I picked up all my winnings and went home quietly....before anyone suggested I buy them drinks.

The next few days passed slowly, the chill hanging over me constantly. It seemed to be living inside me. Nothing could shake the feeling, not even a hot shower could erase it.

One night soon after, I spotted a full moon outside. I thought to myself, maybe if I take a walk in the brisk air, the chill won't be as noticeable. Strange logic, but my mind does that.

It was a beautiful night for a walk. The moon's light left the world dark, but let you see almost as well as the sun's light. It's almost like another world, but I like this one so much more. Unfortunately, the moonlight and cold air did nothing to dispel the chill. It seemed to grow stronger with each step.

There are two possibilities when you go walking around at night. One possibility: you have a nice, uneventful walk, and get home feeling too tired or too awake. The other possibility: somebody tries to take advantage of the darkness to get what they want.

Tonight's walk turned out to be the latter.

A man stepped out into the path in front of me, then turned towards me and stood waiting. I stopped immediately, still a short distance from him. The man was large, plenty of muscle, leather jacket. A biker perhaps? The biker started talking at me, threatening I'd get hurt unless I gave him anything valuable I had.

I hadn't brought anything with me, not even a house key. I put that somewhere safe, so I could get it later. I told the biker I didn't have anything to give him. He said it was 'too bad'.

The biker started walking my way. He wasn't moving fast, but I knew that he would start running if I did, so I stood my ground.

His first punch was obvious, so my reflexes managed to move me out of the way in time. But the knee that rushed at me the instant I moved was too fast for me to react. The knee hit me full in the stomach, and I doubled-up, winded. The biker followed up with a hard punch to my down-turned face. My head went up, then down as I hit the ground.

Lying on my back, the world around me looked quite fuzzy. The biker had stopped to ask if I was sure I didn't have anything, and to threaten me some more. The pain was numbed as the chill flooded over me. My mind was still working at it's normal pace, thinking all the things that needed no thought. One thought that crossed my mind was that they say you feel a chill as Death approaches, but I didn't feel ready to die.

Thanks to the pain being numbed, I was able to get up slightly on my elbows. Then I noticed it in my hand. The strange card. I don't remember putting that up my sleeve was my mind's comment. My mind loves clichés, even at the worst of times a pun is sure to cross it's synapsis.

As I looked at the card, my mind was sure it could see the design flowing around the card, but it noted that the whole world was spinning around me, so it probably didn't mean much. But even then, it didn't think it should see the design flowing up my arm.

The biker had enough fun talking, and decided it was time to bring me a little more pain. I barely noticed him as I watched my hand and arm become covered in black. The biker raised both hands over his head, ready to smash them atop mine. I only noticed as he shouted.

Seeing the double-fist swinging towards me, I could only react. I closed my eyes as my arm went out to block the blow.

Nothing.

Shouldn't my arm be broken? Shouldn't my head be throbbing? My mind couldn't understand. It demanded answers and instructed my eyes to open.

The chill had gone right through my head, and the world was clear once more.

I saw the biker pushing both his fists down against my blackened arm. It looked like he was straining, but I could only feel the slightest pressure on my arm.

My other senses called to me, and I looked at myself. The blackness had crept over half of my body. It seemed to be forming some sort of clothing. A large leather coat?

I stood up, pushing my arm up at the same time. Even though the biker's arms were still pressing down, it took little effort. The biker was surprised, quickly removing his arms and backing off a short distance.

I looked at myself again. The blackness had crept all the way across my body. The collar of the jacket went up to my ears and made a complete circle, completely obscuring the bottom half of my face. The front of the jacket opened gradually as it went down, until it reached my ankles, where it only made a half circle around the side of my legs. Under the jacket was a shirt, on my hands were gloves, around my legs were pants and around my feet were shoes. All were of the same blackness.

I saw the flicker of movement and reacted. The biker's fist met the palm of my hand. A second's pause. As the fist retracted, the reaction on the biker's face was one of someone that had accidentally just punched a brick wall. I had felt nothing.

I watched as the biker's back grew smaller, eventually disappearing around a corner.

I stood there.

I felt the chill, as strong as ever.

I shivered, my body demanding my mind do something about the cold. My mind asked what it could do.

My hand found my face, and I felt something on it. My hands found edges and pulled. What I saw in my hands was a pair of dark glasses. My mind asked the obvious question: How could I not have noticed? I looked around at the night around me, then put the shades back over my eyes. The world was still dark, but I could see more clearly than a second before. I could see as perfectly as if the sun was out, perhaps even better.

My mind turned every which way, trying to find an explanation. A few seconds later, it gave up. It had come to a single conclusion: home was a nice place to be.

I started walking, my footsteps echoing into the night. I soon realised that those echoes were getting closer. From the corner in front of me, several more bikers walked out. I looked back. Of course, there were some behind me as well.

They didn't move. They were waiting for the fear to set in. I wasn't scared of them. My body isn't made for fighting, but this new.......skin, seems to be perfect for it. I just wanted to get home. I knew they wouldn't just accept that, so I prepared myself.

They came at me fast. A punch to my face; I block, strike back. A punch to my back; I spin around, knock away, strike back. Punches from both sides; I flinched, but the pain didn't come, so I sent my fists express to their faces.

The bikers stepped back to regroup. It didn't take long to decide their next course of action. They all rushed at once. My mind raced, I need something to deal with all of them quickly. A weapon I could swing around, something like this.....chain....around...my wrist. My mind tried but it could find no memory of the chain. The same blackness as the clothes, it was curled around my wrist, ready for action.

I stuck my arm out to the side, starting the chain spinning, unwinding it from my wrist.

As the bikers closed on me, I crouched, whipping the full length of the chain in a circle above my head.

Some were knocked back from the first spin, some took two hits before they got out of the way, some took three hits and hit the ground. They weren't coming closer anymore.

As one, they decided it wasn't worth it. I only had to look at their backs for a few short seconds, then I didn't have to see them anymore.

I walked home without stopping, the chill following me every step of the way. When I got home, I looked in the mirror. I didn't like what I saw. The reflection had no emotion, no warmth....nothing. The worst part was that I could still see myself. It wasn't some other person, it was still me.

I looked at my hands and I felt I needed myself back, even just my fingers. The tips of the gloves retracted back to my knuckles. I stared at my fingertips. My mind had long ago given up on trying to make sense of the happenings of this night. I don't know why, but I lowered my arm, causing the card to slide out from the sleeve. I held it up again. The black swirls were missing, there was only a word. I looked at myself in the mirror, a black shadow holding a card.

I wished I would return to myself.

The blackness left my body, flowing back into the card. I looked down at myself. The blackness was all gone. I looked at the card. The black swirls had returned. I looked in the mirror. I saw a pale, skinny boy with thick red hair. My reflection was normal, but all I could see was the image of that cold, dark person.

The chill had gone for now, but it's memory still made me feel cold.

I went to bed. I left the confusing thoughts and embraced the blissful void of sleep.

Even in the days that followed, it never occurred to my mind that, for every card, there is a deck to which it belongs.

My name is Alex, and I live in a small town. I'm just some guy you see on the street and try to ignore. But I have another name now, a name for the darkness, a name written secretly on a strange card. My name is Spectre.