The Crescent City Five By Mister O

Disclaimers: The basic stuff. I don't own the character Photon. I do wish to note that the Crescent City Five are. If I find out that someone has used them in their own story there will be consequences and repercussions. Okay, Mob boss type threats over. Let's get on with the show!

Midnight crept over the city in a smooth wave of warm blackness. Lights created a pattern of illumination that made the night less oppressive, beautiful even. But five took no notice of the city's ethereal beauty, as they prowled through the city as shades of shades, and in their wake they left a trail of cold, black night. They are the Crescent City Five, and no light escapes them. _

Mark Collins stumbled out of the Old Keg, one of many bars on the famed Bourbon Street of New Orleans, and out into the humid June night. Those near enough to him could smell a multitude of alcohols on his breath and clothes. He turned lethargically, maladroitly, to the bar and slurred out

"Thr'w me out eh? 'Ell you can go shrew your shelf!" he turned and nearly ran into a man behind him. The surprise knocked Mark onto his rear, bruising his dignity.

"Eh," he said looking up to the man. He wore a simple green jacket with a black undershirt; simple blue jeans and sneakers completed the look of normalness. The man looked down at Mark

"Trouble friend," the man asked, though Mark swore he never saw his lips move.

The man bent his length to look Mark in the eyes, showing his own violet irises. His eyes seemed to smile as he said

"Do you need help?" This time Mark was damn certain the man's lips didn't move. But he was too inebriated to care.

"Yeh," Mark said "bartender thr'w m'butt out! Said I was drunk enuff, I told 'im I wasn't," Mark stopped to belch "eh, I told im that I'll be drunk when I bleed bourbon!"

"I can help you with that," the man with violet eyes said, a definite grin spreading across his handsome features, putting his hand on Mark's forehead. Mark felt a strange tingling through-out his body. His flesh became yellow, his senses deadened, and finally his head fell to the pavement with a thick *thud*.

The man watched this bizarre act with glee.

Bones and muscle stretched and twisted in the man's hand to form a wicked talon. He used two ebon-scythed fingers to cut a deep gash in Mark's throat. From it bled a translucent yellow fluid. The man brought the claw up to his lips and licked the fluid off.

"Mmm, not bad," he said

"Corba did you have to do that," a voice from behind said. Corba turned to his unseen companion, Eoz.

Eoz stood just over five feet tall but through his manner and poise seemed a giant. His hair was a stark red as were his eyes. He wore a trim blue pin- stripe suit.

Corba turned to him, looking down from a whole six-foot-six height. He let a short nasty laugh

"No," he said turning back to the corpse "doesn't mean it wasn't fun though!"