A shrill scream echoed through the atmosthere of Vieon-5, A dead planet, it's surface little more then long-lost ruins, and gaseuous vapours. Even as the scream faded, the vapours surrounding a certain area were flung back, as if by some form of explosion, and, with a burst of shadow, a creature emerged onto the surface of this world.
He had short, slicked-back hair, and silver, glowing eyes, and a dark, tribal tatoo covered the right side of his face. He could see that this place was already occupied by...something. Neo-Shadows scuttled to and fro, the vapours of the poison atmosthere hiding them. To most, these vapours would have been lethal, but 33-666 could convert almost anything to oxygen...even his own body, if required. It was one of his own hidden talents.
He smiled, as, in the distance, a figure, obscured by the mists about him, drifted into view. The only thing he could make out was the claws: Long, wickedly curved, and pitch-black. Still...he doubted that this would be anything of a challenge. Such would-be's came and went...and, to his experience, not one of them had the talent to become anything.
Still...33-666 couldn't talk. He was nothing without the man he was, and still had been, a part of. They were not connected, nor did his defacto 'father' care for his wellbeing. But the fact remained, without him, the silver-haired young man would be nothing.
Literally.