---

The Uber ride back to his apartment didn't take long after the disastrous run in with the nameless lass. There was no point in learning her name anyway, he doubted he'd see her again in such a large city, though he had to admit it was nice to chat with a normie without them being outright terrified. Then he had to go and wound his pride by running into a blood pole. A night full of thrills and fun ruined because of one stupid moment. Now Thane just wanted to sleep and deal with the hangover that would come later.

The car stopped in front of his building he lived. Thane paid the driver, turning his back from them, ignoring them as the mentioned money back before speeding off. The lobby of the building was silent and empty, a perfect scene to Thane who would probably give a death glare to anyone who bothered him as he went back to his den. Calling down the elevator and entering, he hit the sixth floor and took the slow climb up before leaving it once it reached his floor. He fumbled for his keys as he walked to his door, jiggling the handle before it silently swung open and finally was in his den. His apartment had little furnishings and surprisingly unlike the way he looked was relatively clean. In the living area was a couch, TV, and a small stand with a bamboo plant on it. Off the side of the living area was a small kitchen that for the most part went unused. Then a small hallway that had a bathroom on one side and his room across from it. He stumbled to his room, dropping his keys on the countertop of the kitchen, keeping himself up right by placing one hand on the wall. With a huff upon reaching his bed he fell onto it.

He laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, only slightly grimacing at the numb pain from the near fully healed wounds."Just another night as Ring Alpha. Going to have one hell of a day tomorrow," he grumbled as he shut his eyes, letting the sweet embrace of darkness finally take hold.

---

---

Brighid had no real concept of time in the swirling mass of colors that became her reality as she leapt into the portal. The change happened so many times that she lost count of how many times it happened. She was tired and sore and to top it off confused. Catching snatches of the outside world didn't help. Finally the madness seemed to end. Or so she thought.

The colors seemed to tear apart and Brighid was thrown onto the ground as the spell collapsed. Lying on the ground in human form she groaned and weakly tried to push herself up. Her arms shook with the effort of doing anything but lying on the ground. Shaking she collapsed back on the ground. Fine. I'll just lay here for a bit.

Her eyes were still a bit blurry and laying on the cool grass seemed like heaven for now. The others could find her later. She'd been through Hell and didn't want to move till her healing kicked in.

As she lay there the sounds and scents of her surroundings came to her. They were unfamiliar to her. A deep seated panic started in the pit of her stomach. She turned her head slowly and opened her eyes.

She recognized nothing. Literally nothing.

There was a black still river that was a few meters away with stone lining it's banks and lanterns hung on a pole casting a strange yellow un-flickering light to the surface. Looking up nearly made her sick but she managed to choke it back down. Bright colors she'd never seen before flashed and pulsed. And that was just the sights.

The sounds. It never stopped. A veritable cacophony of noise. Totally unfamiliar and some frightening at best.

“Jennings, waits,” Kathryn stopped short, raised a palm in the universal ‘stop’ sign, and slowly surveyed the surroundings, seeming to search for something. “There’s a commotion somewhere…there. Not too far from the river. Near the central park, maybe,” she murmured. Darrin’s previously puzzled expression smoothed into urgency, and they dashed, Kat keeping apace of her human co-worker. Within minutes, they were at one of the main paved paths leading into the park. As they ran further in, taking turns toward the path diverting closer to the river-side, it became apparent that a group of people were indeed gathering around something – or rather someone.

A redhead woman was lying on the ground – and she was naked. Also, she was injured, filthy, and covered in blood, though there were suspicious chunks of meat here and there – snagged into her hair, stuck beneath her fingernails, and trails of it around her mouth – but the weirdest thing about this all was the scent. The woman was permeated in a scent so rotten and dark – and utterly unappealing. Underneath all that grime, Kathryn could see that the woman was bruised all over, and especially her chest, sides, and head seemed to be afflicted. That bump could mean a concussion, she thought. She wasn’t comfortable trying to move her, but at the very least she could cover her.

“Hey, has anyone called an ambulance yet?” she called out to the dozen or so others, who were currently being corralled – and questioned – by Jennings. The only answer was a few stunned shakes of heads in the negative, so with a muted sigh, Kathryn first stripped of her police vest, shirt and undershirt (removing any delicate items from it and stuffing them in her trouser pockets), and used the paltry clothing pieces to at least provide the female with some basic decency.

“Miss?” Kathryn questioned, crouching at the female’s side. Honestly, she thought it most likely that she was dealing with a werewolf gone loose – though if that were the case, there certainly would have been reports of victims already. On the other hand, if the woman was a victim herself, this was a strange case indeed. Some of Kat’s confusion was allayed when, after dispersing everyone but the key three witnesses, Jennings stepped to her side and informed her of the evidence gathered so far.

“What that trio over there seemed to agree on was that this female, whoever and whatever she is, seemed to appear out of thin air. Literally. Supposedly, space was ripped open in some sort of a portal or a wormhole or something, and she got thrown out. The rest of the crowd’s babbling was just wild speculation, as you can imagine,” Jennings grumbled.

Kathryn nodded with a frown, and with extreme care and gentleness lay a palm on the back of the woman’s hand, trying to get a feel for her head injury. “If she doesn’t regain consciousness soon, we’re calling an ambulance. And even then, hospitalizing may be the best. We’ll definitely have to question her, though,” she said. Now, she was just waiting to see if the woman would respond or not.

Brighid wished that she wasn't a spectacle for these people. The all sounded odd and were split between being afraid of her and not. Mostly they were giving her a headache. She'd had to fight her healing and keep up appearances that she was still unconscious.

That only made Brighid more aware of the fact that she needed a bath and clothes. Someone came close enough to touch her. Laying something over her and speaking to her. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward the speaker. Her silver gray eyes filled with concern. "Thank you. Where am I?"

Her voice had a strange accent. Not quite British or Scottish or Irish but a combination of the three. It wasn't strange to her though. She'd always sounded that way but to someone hearing her voice that's the closest approximation of a description that one could make of her accent. The tone was soft and warm contralto.

Brighid looked around and slowly let her healing powers work on her body. She'd be better in an hour or so. The … person next to her was a vampire. The one who was hovering over her. She couldn't tell if they were male or female. Colin had long hair and Eliza had short hair at one point. But it was very hard not to notice that the person attempting to help her was a vampire.

Brighid saw nothing inherently wrong with that and thanked her lucky stars that Colin wasn't anywhere around. He'd have gone off the deep end. "Excuse my state of undress and quite apparently the gore on my person. If you could point me to the nearest source of water I would be eternally grateful."

“You are in Duncaster’s largest park,” Kathryn answered. The woman was obviously confused, and her accent was that of a foreigner’s, though from where, Kathryn wasn’t certain. It was similar to how some of the old vampire she’d met sounded, though not quite the same, and she was fairly certain this female was not a vampire. That she did not know where she was proved that she’d somehow been transported – or had transported herself – from elsewhere.

Was someone, presumably outside of Duncaster, casting some strange teleportation magic? Was it a statement? An attack on their city? A failed experiment? A pesky whim or wicked prank? Regardless of the case, they needed to ascertain what this woman knew of it. Her mind seemed to be sound, and it was actually strange that she did not act shocked or confused – apart from the fact that she did not recognize Duncaster, that was. If she had never been here before, however, that in and of itself was not so odd. Her suspicious appearance on the other hand…

“There should be a public bathroom close enough, we can escort you there. Then it would be best if you agreed to come with us to the station. You can have a proper warm shower there, and we’ll even find you a temporary change of clothing. I am afraid that we will have to ask how you came to be in the state that we found you in, and anything you know that caused you to…appear here. I do not believe you to be a criminal, but we have to be cautious nonetheless, you understand?” Kathryn explained politely.

Jennings, meanwhile, had written down all the information the three witnesses could provide as well as their names and contact information in case they would require future details from them, then dismissed them. So, the only ones left in the vicinity were the two police officers, one a female vampire and the other a male human, and the unknown woman. Kathryn blinked twice in quick succession as she considered the fact that, really, getting a name from her should have been the first priority. Perhaps not unexpectedly, she had been distracted by what was a bizarre occurrence even by the standards of this world full of the supernatural.

“Oh, excuse me for my lack of manners. I am Kathryn Moreno, and this here is Darrin Jennings,” she introduced herself and her coworker with a small and perfunctory, but civil smile. “We are both with the Duncaster PD, as you may have already guessed. If you are as unwell as you appear, we can take you to the hospital after you clean up a bit,” the vampire offered.

Brighid blinked and sat up pulling her filthy hair to cover her nakedness. She inclined her head slightly. “Ah yes introductions. My name is Brighid O’Shay. I have never heard of Duncaster before now. I am sorry that was housepital that you just said? Is that where your healers are? How odd. Never mind, I shall not require a healer. Do you carry a blanket or something of the sort so that I can wear it to, what did you call it, yes the station?”

Did that really just come out of my mouth? I mean seriously? I sound way more put together than I feel. All these sensations. The smells, sights, sounds. This place even feels different. If Kathryn was not a vampire I would think I stepped out into Fey Lands. It would just be Oberon’s style to open a doorway and have me walk willingly through it. But the change came and went numerous times. Something is odd here and I intend to find out what as well as find the others.

Brighid looked at the shirt that Kathryn had lain on her. She smirked and noticed that the shirt would probably make her look more indecent. Her hair had been waist length but it fell past her knees now as if she had spent years in the spell. She wiggled her toes and sighed with relief mentally.

Kathryn stared at Brighid blankly for several seconds. The female had professed to have never heard of Duncaster before, she apparently didn’t know what a hospital or police station were, and she’d mentioned healers. “…Just cover yourself with those for now as best you can,” she gestured to the dark blue padded vest, blue collared shirt, and black undershirt she’d covered the female with previously. While she had been striving for nonchalance, hints of confusion had unmistakably seeped into her tone. She briefly gazed at her co-worker. “Jennings, you run to the car and fetch the foil blanket from the first aid kit.” The vampire turned back towards Brighid, offering her a hand up.

“There’s a public restroom a few minutes’ walk from here. There are sure to be more people as we go on, but that really can’t be helped,” Kathryn huffed wryly, but proceeded leading the redhead along the smoothly paved road towards the park’s main entrance. There was a sharp contrast between the dull thuds of her black boots and the soft padding of Brighid’s uncovered feet, but they now shared the trait of being half-naked, though in Kathryn’s case it just meant that her upper half was only covered by a sports bra. The redhead next to her was certainly the worse off, and the vampire walked slightly in front of the mystery woman, using her own body to help cover her from casual observation. Having her back to this possibly dangerous stranger did not do her nerves any good though; her neck was prickling, her shoulders were tense, and she couldn’t help but grimace slightly.

Soon enough, the pair had transitioned from one of the relatively narrow side paths, designed for walking and cycling and jogging, to a wide avenue inlaid with stones – while cars certainly fit, only service vehicles had access to this part, though several feet further, the busy main streets could be seen already. The greenery of the park transitioned into the drab gray of concrete, and here, tucked in between some other buildings, was a public restroom, still part of the park property, though built somewhat on the edge of it. It was a small, low building, painted white, though several graffiti defaced it – but at least its windows weren’t broken. Kathryn led Brighid into one half, where several closed stalls and sinks could be seen. Thankfully, it seemed the building was currently occupied, perhaps not so strange given the late hour and the fact that Jennings had shooed away all those onlookers. The vampire gestured to a sink, presenting the best currently available option for the redhead to wash herself. “Use my clothes to dry off when you’re done,” she suggested with a small, mildly reluctant sigh. Kathryn then leaned her back on the door-frame, keeping a watch on both the female and the outside.

Brighid looked at the basins with the pump and knobs attached. Where is the pump? Brighid looked around and under the basins. With a puzzled look she touched the knobs then looked up into a mirror. This mirror was much smoother and reflected better than any that were not enchanted that she could recall. Staring back at her reflection she grimaced and muttering. She reached out and touched the knobs.

The knobs twisted under her hands and she jumped back as water gushed out of the pump into the basin.

With an entirely puzzled expression on her face, Kathryn approached the possibly-lycan-female, and adjusted the handles so the spout’s spray wasn’t quite violent. “We really do need to talk exactly how and where you were raised that even the most basic of modern of technology is so shocking to you,” the vampire commented with a shake of her head, tone slightly snarky, though her own confusion was obvious enough. Ever since O’Shay had regained consciousness, she’d been intently observing her surroundings, but not just with the purpose to orient herself, Kathryn thought. It was as if even the most mundane things, for example the lights littering the city, were something new and worth of inspection to her. Kathryn had suspected amnesia or simple concussive shock at one point, but…Now she was fairly certain it was more than that.

The woman knew her own name, after all, and communicated clearly, walked without too much of a problem, and didn’t seem on the brink of imminent collapse due to poor health or mental instability. I just hope that giving in to her insistence on not needing a hospital won’t come back to bite me in the ass, later on. It was still possible that Brighid was suffering in some physical and/or mental manner, after all. However, perhaps she had simply been raised in an incredibly restrictive, outdated, techno-phobic environment. Could just be some weird magic going haywire...she did pop through some kind of a portal, didn’t she? Only with information from O’Shay herself, however, could Kathryn hope to come anywhere close to making a firm conclusion.

---

For many moments, for whole lifetimes, Eliza was just a ripple. A passing breeze. The odd, feathery touch that sends shivers down one's spine. She was the familiar stranger in the corner of someone's vision, that disappeared upon a second glance.

Briefly, she was spread into nothingness, becoming a fragile part of the all-encompassing void. Just as suddenly, she was mashed together, a boneless lump of molten flesh and gore.

She felt nothing, was numb to it all and somehow present for every moment of it. It was as if she were seeing it from an onlooker's point of view. Perhaps she was. After all, she hadn't a clue where her eyes were during all of this.

It was an experience for the history books, truly. It was a moment where she was all, and she was nothing. It was like being carried through a dream by Felicity. In this dream, though, she was the interpreter. For a moment, she was enlightened.

Then, she was coughed out.



"'Liza, I'm home!" Ethaniel called, a merry lilt to his tone. His short, casual strides carried him to their small kitchen, where he paused and popped his head into the alcove that housed their dining table.

Eliza wasn't there, working on her charms as he had told her to. A lump of clay remained on the table, untouched. That meant she was somewhere else, doing Mother knows what. Assumptions traveled like lightning through Ethaniel's mind, very few of which soothing.

For all he knew, she could have been taking a nap in her room. She had been acting more sluggish lately. On the other hand, she could be terrorizing the next village over. Her newfound, violent tendencies were becoming more of a pain to deal with. Every hex thrown his way was another waste of energy on both their parts. She was too weak to harm him, and he was too weakhearted to punish her properly.

Perhaps, in another life, he would've thrown her out. Abandoned her on the streets with a bit of money, just so she could drink herself to death. Maybe this darker version of himself would have abused the inkling of loyalty that was bubbling up within her, just as her father had. Trashed her, completely and utterly. It wouldn't have been hard. No one would take the time to mourn her ruination. To most, she was scum.

But not to him.

For the short time they had known each other, she had made a great impression upon him. Whenever her mood swings weren't weighing her down, he caught glimpses of her true persona. She was compassionate, despite her past misfortunes, or perhaps because of them. Her truest self was eager. Eager for love, and joy, and someone who could take care of her in the way her mother and father hadn't. He wanted to be that person. More than that. He wanted to see her succeed, if not because he cared, then because he wished to be the person behind someone else's success.

He would get her there, past boundaries she didn't even know she had.

To begin that process, though, he had to find her.

One-by-one, he checked her room, then the oversized study that dwarfed the rest of the house, then the garden outside. If she was around, there was only one other place she could be.

Creeping into his room, he let a curse loose under his breath as he laid eyes upon her. She sat in the corner of his quarters, staring up at him with wide, apologetic eyes. They were glossed over, and unfocused.

In her arms, she cradled a bottle of wine that was almost empty.

"How long was I gone?" His tone was accusatory, and when she flinched back, he realized it may have been overly so.

"An...hour?" Eliza replied, blinking every second, as she repeatedly lost focus.

"Was that long enough to drain an entire bottle of wine on your own?" He kept his tone inquisitive, light. He didn't want to put too much blame on her in this state, they'd have to talk more when she sobered up.

"No...but--" She cut herself off, nibbling on her lower lip as tears welled in her eyes. "P-Please don't throw me out!" Her slurs came out beside soft sobs.

Ethaniel quickly shook his head, throwing up his hands defensively. "Eliza, I wouldn't abandon you." His affirmation seemed to do its job, as her tremors slowed significantly. "I just don't know why you've done this to yourself, that's all."

"I have...haven't, I haven't been myself. I keep getting so...so angry and I-I can't take it anymore!" Her tone was louder than before, though still incoherent. She stared down at her hands, past the bottle folded gently between her arms. In a pathetic fit, she shook them, clutching her twitching fingers.

Ethaniel sighed, continuing his approach. At last, he crouched down beside her. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. Pooling tears fell in rapid streams down her face. "Eliza, would you like to know what I think?"

"Yes, Ethaniel." She replied, after a few moments of blatant processing.

"I think I can handle the crying, and the anger, and having to force you out of bed in the morning, because I know you're worth the effort." He paused, reaching out to take hold of the wine bottle. She clung to it momentarily, before relinquishing it to him. "What I can't handle is seeing you like this. Drunk and slurring each word, deprecating yourself. This?" He shook the bottle, making sure she focused on it for a solid moment. "This isn't a solution, it is a cause. Until you're able to learn that, you will keep falling back on this 'miracle cure'. You'll do it 'till you die."

He stood, letting his telekinesis take the bottle to the other side of the room. Holding out a hand, he offered her a way up. "Do you want to die, Eliza?"

Eliza didn't have to consider this. The answer was clear enough. "N-No!"

"Then don't continue to force death upon yourself. Get up, Eliza."



Eliza sucked in a sharp breath, the simple act causing a vicious stabbing pain in her side. She hissed, clutching her side with numb fingers. Slowly, she sat up, strained muscles pulling at the movement.

How long had she been asleep? A hand shot to the mud caking her face. It was dry. A glance at the sky informed her that it wasn't raining. How far had they traveled, exactly? It didn't matter. She'd make her way back home eventually. For now, she had to get her bearings. This place, wherever it was, was a haven for Samael. That meant she wasn't safe. Not yet, at least.

Pulling herself to her feet unsteadily, she took her first look at her surroundings. What she saw amazed her.

Up in the sky were thousands of lights. Like stars, but hung in midair. They didn't twinkle, staying firm in their nigh orange coloration. And they were so close, closer than any star she had ever seen. It was as if she could touch them. Perhaps she could, in this foreign place. Once the mission was done, she would make a point out of approaching these wondrous lights. For now, though, she had to focus on the task at hand.

A row of tall evergreen trees about three hundred yards away surrounded her, the thick boughs interlocking and creating a wall that was difficult to see beyond. She shook off the feeling of entrapment, continuing her sweep. A fine brick building was only a short distance away, made up in a style of architecture Eliza hadn't witnessed before. Upon seeing it, Eliza tensed. It was more than likely that this building housed her enemy. Were the others already within? She couldn't hear any sort of commotion...perhaps they were already dead.

Eliza patted the sheath where her dagger had been, scowling as she recalled it being thrown from her hand. She'd have to rely on her magic, which was practically nonexistent against someone of Samael's caliber.

Creeping toward the building, she willed adrenaline to come to her aid. None joined the battle, however, leaving her stranded. She could feel just how sluggish she was. By the time she had approached the building, she had stopped trying to be stealthy. At this point, Samael knew she was coming. It was only a matter of when, she supposed.

Walking around the building, she searched for an entrance. There was only one, in what she presumed to be the front. Surrounding the door was two large windows, a peek inside revealed to her racks of clothing in bright fabrics and strange designs. Things one could only find in Sinstead, though the makeups were foreign to her, and this was certainly not the crowded city of debauchery.

Gritting her teeth, Eliza pulled on the plain silver doorknob, marveling as it opened easily for her. She had been expecting some form of resistance. Then again, Samael gave off the image of a cocky asshole. Stepping inside, she tried to leave the door hanging open. As if by magic, though, it swung closed slowly behind her.

Samael had to be there.

"Samael!" Eliza called, throwing all caution to the wind. For a few moments, she waited. When no one popped out of the darkness, she began searching the premises. Finding...nothing.

Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

Doors marked with the words 'MEN' and 'WOMEN' lead her to rooms full of curtains hanging on metal rods, all of which guarding empty alcoves. Around the main room that she had walked into there were strange pieces of merchandise made of clear or semi-transparent material Eliza had never before seen. It was hard to the touch, but when she put her hand behind it she could see through it. The clothes on the racks felt so very soft, in colors brighter than she could ever have imagined from fabric.

While this was all well and good, Eliza was extremely disappointed. After all, Samael was nowhere to be found, there were no ghouls or the dead bodies of those who had jumped in before her. It was just an empty shop of some sort. Eliza concluded that they had all been dropped off at different locations. An advanced portal trick, but one Samael could surely pull off.

Taking advantage of what she had been blessed with, Eliza stripped out of her clothing. Reluctantly, she abandoned her yellow hood, which was little more than a tattered piece of fabric stained with blood and dirt. She traded it out for the strange soft clothing, picking out a black outfit with leggings that hugged her body like a second skin and an overly-thick, hooded blouse that draped over her body like a blanket. It didn't combat the itching on her flesh from the mud she had rolled in, but it was comfortable and nondescript.

Leaving the shop behind, she stepped into the cool night. She stared, for a moment at the evergreen trees surrounding her. Then, at the strange lights in the distance. Samael was out there, somewhere.

She swore to herself that she would find him.

---

The afternoon sun had long since dipped into obscurity, fading with memories of a previous day. Rather replaced by darkness, Aiden made his way down the dark streets of Duncaster with hands gently resting within the warmth of jacket pockets. ”Think it will ever end?” A quiet question escaped Aiden’s slender, pale lips, and were promptly met by a manifestation of his very own reflection.

With a dim light emanating from Lumen’s shape, the angelic spirit found himself pondering the notion for a brief spell. ”Are you asking me if mortals will cease their pursuit of gain?” The statement was followed by a raised brow, before Lumen continued, ”for that will never come to pass, unless the very nature of humanity shifts.”

Without the ability to prevent thoughts from finding their way back to his father, Aiden clenched his teeth. The very agency this Angel secured for his own was designed to exploit conflict. ”Maybe we should.”

Again, Lumen mulled the statement, and offered one of his own. ”You still consider yourself human?”

Unable to answer, Aiden paused, his eyes lowered to view the rain-soaked ground beneath his small feet. Was he human, still? He had asked himself the question more than once, and never did an answer surface. With a shake of his head, the boy continued. He left the alley behind, Steve’s hideout now secured behind a self-locking door, and started into the open streets.

---

Where are you?

13 Missed Calls

Vi I'm sorry but you need to get home. Everyone is...

Violet scrolled through her notifications, face scrunched up with distaste. Anxiety bubbled up, manifesting in the form of a slight aching in her spine. Fire lit up behind her eyes, willing tears to the surface.

Fuck. She was in so much trouble. Maybe cutting her losses would be best. Turning around, heading home and confronting her problems. Yeah. Yeah, that was best. Right?

Turning around, she began pacing in the direction of her apartment complex. She made it five steps, before freezing in place.

She couldn't go back home, not yet. Seeing their faces, full of pity and disappointment, would only serve to further the throbbing.

With a sigh, she shoved her phone back into her purse, lifting her hands to press her fingertips against her temples. She was so goddamn tired. And confused. She felt alone in the world.

Turn around.

Shoulders hunched, she took a step back and began to pivot. Halfway through the rotation, she halted. A glow in the corner of her vision left her wary. It was blinding, more than the other auras she had seen. A pristine white, with no odd mixing of opposing colors. Part of her wanted to see more, the other part was attempting to ignore the churning in her stomach.

Curiosity --and the urge to not look like a crackhead who couldn't decide where they were going- won out.

She turned fully, staring at the side of a figure. Closer to the figure's body was the overwhelming radiance. The aura stretched outward, though, in a way she had never imagined one could. It was wispy, elegant. Looked almost like a wing.

Violet would've loved to think on that more. Would've called out, perhaps. Instead, she doubled over and began to puke out the cake, beer, and chicken fried steak she had eaten not too long ago.

---

With eyes widened, Aiden halted his stride. A peculiar woman had made herself known, and proceeded with such pleasantries once her dinner presented itself to the rain-soaked ground. One could only hope that too much of a good thing was what lead to her less than sublime state, but as Aiden watched the display play out, he found himself somewhat paralyzed. Fitting, indeed, but perhaps also a sign. This might very well have answered the question brewing within the teenager. Was he fully Angelic, only one point of interest would have lingered, which was wholeheartedly the mission at hand.

However, as Aiden’s feet brought him closer to the woman who had now slumped over, humanity shone brightly from within. Had the situation warranted less urgency, Aiden would undoubtedly have paused to ask Lumen why a small, tender smile found its way to his lips. It was one of pride. ”Yes, we ought to offer aid,” the Spirit commented.

”H-hey!” Aiden exclaimed, upon approaching the unfortunate sight. Little did he know that the source of this woman’s discomfort was the very boy attempting to present assistance. How did one act in a situation such as this? It was ironically the first time the Angel had come across another individual puking onto a sidewalk. ”Are you alright?” A foolish question escaped the boy’s lips, one which warranted an answer of silence as sight was surely enough to reveal reality. ”I mean..,” Aiden tried, ”do you.., do you need any help?” The fearsome, unyielding celestial warrior, uncertain and out of his depth. Yes, it was quite ironic. He was prepared to face a cult of bloodthirsty vampires, but one sick young woman caused him to stumble through his words.

---

Violet held up a hand at the sudden approach. She could see the white cast, even though she pinned her gaze to the puddle of vomit decorating the concrete. She must've looked just as trashed as Thane was. "Hey," she croaked out at last. "Thanks, dude, but I'm all good."

In all honesty, throwing up had made her stomach feel a bit better. Empty, at the very least. That being said, her vision was still spotty and the world was still swerving around her. She needed to close her eyes, calm down. Take her mind off her family and stress and focus on the boy trying to help her instead.

She planted her hands on her hips and began sucking in deep breaths. They tasted disgusting and burned her throat, but it was beginning to ease the pain in her scalp.

---

Not entirely unexpected, the woman’s answer was enough to maintain a short, if noticeable distance between herself, and Aiden. ”You’re.., vomiting like.., all over the ground,” he found himself saying, a slender finger motioning towards a rather disgusting puddle which by now had formed itself fully, with gut-wrenching aromas emanating from its discolored surface.

”Ah, splendid, she would not have noticed, without our inquiry,” Lumen added, the Angelic spirit trading his previously soft smile, for a more mischievous smirk. It warranted a small sigh from the boy, but Aiden was not going to argue. He had been singing all the wrong notes ever since this scenario began playing out.

”Sorry, I haven’t, uhm..,” the boy continued with the grace of a felled rhino. ”What do people usually do in a situation like this?” Claiming to be was far too rich, and Angelic to ever have witnessed such a lowly sight was perhaps not the best way to go about this display. ”I can.., call someone for you?” The statement managed to leave the boy’s lips in the shape of a question, more so than a steadfast suggestion, but at this point, Aiden had essentially abandoned the notion of vigilance, and confidence.

---

Another deep breath. Inhale, hold...exhale. She repeated the process several more times, until the glow was nearly gone and the world spun in a manner she found tolerable. She found herself leaning on the heels of her feet, and forced her body back into position. Popping an aspirin or two or three sounded incredible at the moment. Then again, perhaps taking one in front of this strange kid wasn't the best idea.

Speaking of the kid...

"I...uh, thanks." she managed a grateful nod. "But, no thanks. I'm already feeling a lot better. I just...get nauseous." She slowly edged away from the vomit, moving toward the side of a building.

"And, in situations like this? People usually just walk around the vomiting lady." A chuckle worked its way out of her throat. "But that's just the guys I know, I guess."

---

Colin’s fingers grasped at thin air, Vitius was gone.

He frowned at the strip of empty darkness where the vampire had stood. The space had twisted, as if the air itself had swallowed him whole. The portal hadn’t been Samael’s only means of transportation - he had ways to do it that didn’t let people follow him. Or…

Colin waved a hand round in front of him, waiting for the same tugging, gut churning sensation he’d felt as the portal swallowed him up. Nothing. His frown deepened. Was this Samael’s way of calling his followers back to him? It would make sense. But in that case, why did he leave the door open behind him when he left? It didn’t…

Colin’s stomach dropped.

For whatever reason, Samael wanted to be followed. He’d laid a trap, and Colin just ran straight into it. Straight after… Kiri.

Kiri who, first time he met her, had gotten one of their fellow recruits killed.

Who’d chewed him out for his hesitation in killing a spellcaster.

Who’d almost killed Eliza.

Had killed Colin’s uncle.

Was Kiri working for Samael too?

It would make sense. Someone on the inside, and what better bait than one of their own? There was no telling how many of their fellow hoods had followed after Colin, he’d been the quickest, he was the closest, and-

“I don't think there's anyone I trust more than you right now.”

-even after everything, he didn’t want to see her dead. Afterall, she was a hood. That meant something.

“Fuck.” he swore, knotted fingers in hair.

The word didn’t echo, but it felt like it should, the abandoned building so dark and cavernous that, before his eyes started to adjust to the gloom, to make out vague shapes and blotted out colours, it could’ve been anywhere. He had to focus. Even if Kiri was a traitor, Vitius could still come back at any minute. The damage was already done, the only thing Colin could do now was survive.

The bitter ache of his limbs was there, but it was very far away as he hauled himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. At some point, he was going to crash, he could feel it, but for now urgency spurred him on. Get away from Vitius, find Samael, keep fucking going.

In the back of his head, a voice, small and about to break, but filled with fire, reminded him, “Jobs not done.”

“Fuck you.” He hissed. Kept going. Another light, blindingly bright, whizzed past the door - black silhouettes etched into the walls, stark and strong, that faded just as quick. He squinted, what was that? He reached the door. He’d find out soon enough.

The door was painted wood, white and shiny at one time, but flaking. It was loose on its hinges, but a smooth metal bar crossed its width.

Cautiously, he pushed.

It swung open.

Cold air slammed into his face. Black sky, no stars, light everywhere. Buildings taller than Colin had ever seen, floor hard like stone, not cobbled like a road, but grey and granular and stretching on forever. He thought he’d still been in Duncaster, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

If this was the mage’s lair… what he was able to build… this was so much worse than they could have ever imagined.

In the distance, two figures. Impossible to see clearly, even with the pale glow illuminating the darkness (those lights were everywhere, what were they?). One looked like a young boy, not much older than the youngest of the hoods, the other a woman, hair bright and unearthly.

Lights dotted the windows in the buildings around him, shadows moved, people or monsters or what Colin couldn’t tell. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. Just how many minions did Samael have?

The woman and the boy seemed like his best bet. They weren’t ghouls, so they were probably vampires, if he followed them for long enough they were sure to lead him back to Samael. Metallic boxes, all different colours and cut with windows and bulky black wheels, (some form of carriage?) lined the road.

Quick as an arrow, he darted behind one of them. Crouched down and gripping at the cold, oddly slick, metal for balance, he could tell from here just how rough the strange ground was - what was the purpose of it? It didn’t matter. He had to get closer to the pair.

Slowly, he began to make his way from one strange metal carriage to another, closer and closer, careful to stay hidden.

---

”That sounds.., very human,” Aiden offered, before noting his own response. ‘Very human’. The statement lingered within his mind, and for a moment, Angelic arrogance might have taken hold. ”I mean,” the boy tried, once more, ”people can be dicks, right?” The second try might have strung along more fitting tunes, or at the very least, sounded less otherworldly. It was easy to forget that Aiden’s drastic change in species had left lasting psychological effects on the teenager.

”I think I saw something,” Lumen broke what was a short bout of silence, his hand nudging Aiden in response to the realization. It could very well have been a rat. Little more than quick movement whisking by, as if a passing breeze. ”I hope we haven’t been branded a quick meal for some hungry vampire,” the Spirit frowned, his eyes turning to Violet briefly, before shifting back towards an air of vigilance. ”I fear this girl would not appreciate such hostilities, especially not in her current state.”

Despite Aiden’s silence, an understanding between the two was clear. Duncaster was a dangerous place once a protective sunlit shroud gave way for darkness, and prolonged visits to the city’s night-time streets elevated risks of disaster by a large margin. ”I can’t just leave you here, at least let me take you home, or to a bar, or something.” In situations like these, Aiden’s lack of social skills involving ordinary people outside his circle of rich serpents, glowed brightly. ”N-not that I’m asking you out!” The boy raised his hands defensively, ”I’m just saying.., being inside is better at night.”

”This is going even smoother than with Rose. Honestly, if you weren’t gay, you’d forever live in isolation, Aiden,” the Spirit sighed, shaking his head.

---

Violet had two questions. First, how old was this kid? He looked fifteen at most, certainly not old enough to be entering a bar. And, while she enjoyed the odd beer or shot every now and again, she preferred her home over any of Duncaster's haunts.

Second, what was he? He tried to act human, but the way he carried himself, and his strange aura lead her to believe he was anything but. Then again..it was possible he was just uber pure, and hadn't had his aura tainted by color.

"That really means a lot...but, I think it's better for you to take care of yourself, kid." She gave him another wary once-over. He was tiny at best, and trying to lecture her about safety? What was he doing out and about?

Giving him a small wave, she began walking further away from her home. She took long, confident strides as if to say 'See? I got it covered.'

---

”S-sure, will do..,” Aiden attempted, but managed to stumble on his words as per expected. One would be forgiven for mistaking the teenager a completely different person when on the streets of Duncaster. Inside the glass tower of Infinity Enterprises, or when circled by serpents of wealth, he weaved through silver-tongued battlefields with professional grace. However, the boy was now clearly beyond his comfort zone.

He had not made his way to filthy streets with the intent of helping random girls with stomach issues, but rather, to hunt beasts. ”I’ll just keep going, then,” Aiden continued, thumbing over his shoulder before the boy resumed an earlier stride.

Perhaps it was better to simply avoid further confrontation. He was, after all, heading towards a lair of murderous vampires. The fact that something so trivial as a vomiting woman halted his progress was, in hindsight, foolish. ”You doubt,” Lumen spoke, ”looking after others is not a sin, Aiden.”

”But it can be dumb,” the teenager mumbled, in response. ”We wasted time, because of this.”

With a small sigh escaping the Angelic Spirit, Lumen shook his head. It was clear that Aiden was struggling. Every moment was a push closer towards a Celestial existence. The boy’s care for mankind, for all of humanity, could very well fade by virtue of his new nature, if he disregarded this drastic shift. ”Over there, we’re not alone!” Abruptly halting further conversation, Lumen revealed a newly arrived party, which was previously assumed a mere rat. However, prolonged patience exposed something far more urgent. It was impossible to deduce their intent, but assuming the worst was what denizens of Duncaster had been taught since birth.

Aiden spun on his heel, this new threat warranting immediate attention. ”Don’t turn your curiosity into a mistake,” the Angel clenched his teeth. It was far too early to conjure forth Ivory, if combat was imminent. He did not need the blade to fight, however, considering Aiden’s, or rather Lumen’s proficiency in unarmed combat. Even so, if this was a vampire, or a werewolf, the mere presence of something so purely Angelic was often enough to scare them off. ”So, stop hiding, and we can avoid something awkward.”

---

Location: Hell.
Time: N/A.
Interactions: None.

Vitius sighed, sending floating particulates spiraling off in random directions as he surveyed the surrounding landscape. Or hellscape rather. He didn't see any signs of life, but he knew it was out there, crawling across the ashen wastes and ruined structures. Waiting. Watching. Absentmindedly fingering the strap lashed across his chest, he carefully considered his next move. While he had been to this realm before, and thus knew how to deal with its denizens, that didn't make the place or those who inhabited it any less dangerous. Pondering the situation for a bit, Vitius eventually decided to seek shelter somewhere until his planar shifting abilities decided to kick back up and take him back to Tenebris, whenever and wherever that may be. Quickly making his way down the small hill upon which he was standing, Vitius made his way past desiccated vegetation and crumbling stonework as he began his long trek towards the shattered city off in the distance, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon.

Just in case.

After several hours of walking in deafening silence, Vitius finally found himself at the entrance to the abandoned city, the sky above remaining dark and depressing as always. There was a slight difference to the landscape, however, in the form of a small robed figure huddled just to the right of the main thoroughfare, its slight movements and disruption of surrounding particulates the only outward sign of life. Vitius's eyes narrowed as he shifted into a more defensive stance. Drawing closer, he observed the figure warily as they began to speak, having taken notice of him despite not moving when he approached.

"Ah, you've returned to us once again," it said in a voice that reminded him of sandpaper grinding against glass. "And here I was thinking you wouldn't be back."

Vitius growled. "I did not come willingly demon, you know this. The blood of your kin longed to return to this hellish place and my reality had no choice but to obey."

It nodded. "Yes, indeed. Though that's your fault now isn't it?"

Vitius glared at the demon, but it ignored him, opting instead to gesture towards the city with a wizened hand.

"Regardless, you know what lies ahead, just as you know what lies behind. More of my kin. Some who will heed your mark and leave you be as you wander throughout our home, and others who will not." The creature rasped as Vitius nodded his acknowledgement. Yet another thing he didn't understand about this place. His "mark," which apparently had something to do with his being a vampire. It was odd, but for some reason the more intelligent hellspawn seemed to recognize what he was and gave him a wide berth as he traveled, as though something about his vampiric made them... deferent. Quite unlike the more feral demons, who would attack him whenever they got the chance.

It was just strange all round, though not entirely unexpected. This was hell after all. Things were bound to get strange sooner or later.

"Either way..." the creature went on. "I wish you luck, though considering your past visits, I doubt you'll need it."

Vitius let out a small chuckle as the creature slowly faded away, its clothes collapsing into a pile of dark ash.

It was right of course. He didn't need luck.

He had skill.

There was a mild chill in the air exacerbated by the humidity surrounding the city. Zeke found himself counting each step as he traversed the sidewalk, a rhythmic motivation that urged him to keep going onward. He saw more life and death than he cared to acknowledge in his elongated span of consciousness. As he considered his motivations for the next step forward he couldn’t help but picture another portrait of the fallen. Another soldier ended by the cause. The manner in which he walked was heavy footed with a strict and deliberate purpose. How could one walk any other way with the world on their shoulders?

Idle hands are the devil's playthings. Zeke considered as much as his footsteps echoed through the uninhabited streets, a lone soul humming passed the otherwise depressing urban scenery. Focus, he reminded himself. One foot in front of the other. In as many centuries as it’s taken to get him to this point, Zeke had seen his fair share of hate and injustice. The volatile change had been nearly enough to compel surrender. His baser instincts were an ever present influence screaming to get out. Things could be so much easier, so natural and logical…

As he mused about it, he saw the faces of his past sins in a mirage of shame. Their forms wavering in a shimmer of illusion before him. But he remained steadfast, stomping through the visages of his ghosts. There was Loona the meek, yet powerful. Her image shattered into stardust as he trampled through her along the sidewalk. Colin, the awkward, yet dutiful. His form faded like mist as he barrelled passed. And then there was Kiri, the strong willed warrior who would single handedly take on the world. He readied himself to walk through it as well. Then it spoke...

Kiri was frozen. She stood on a long, unending path made up of slate grey squares, lined up too neatly one after the other.

It’d taken her countless heartbeats, time punctuated by her coughs and rattling breaths, to force her way back up. Eventually she could stand without fearing she would fall again. There was that terrible tightness in her chest still, like a python wrapped around her ribcage. Kiri wanted to take a dagger and cut her sternum open, peel back skin and meat and bone, if that would release the pressure threatening to suffocate her.

Those groaning, shining things rushed by, pulled by some invisible current. Every time one passed Kiri had to pause, leaning on her wooden staff, and fight against the coughs.

It was so bright. Lamps lined the path, light steady and constant like the sun. Buildings stretched around her like cliff faces, shiny glass and steel, more pristine than anything Kiri had ever seen. She hadn’t encountered any people, yet. She didn’t even know where she was going. All she knew was that she had to find Samael -- find him, defeat him, and figure out how to get back to the battle.

But there was a small voice whispering in the back of her mind -- this was a mistake. Kiri didn’t know how his magic worked. What if he wasn’t even here? What if she was in this strange new world all alone? She’d run through the portal, abandoning her friends, and what if it’d been for nothing at all? Maybe….

Maybe she’d failed.

But then -- there was someone else. Kiri had stopped walking, hand immediately tightening on her staff. Whoever it was, was enormous -- a hulking mass that took up the entire path. Her heartbeat strained under the weight of her ribcage, the throbbing pain filling her up, constricting her breath. But no, no, no, she couldn’t afford another episode. Kiri forced herself to take in a slow, painful breath. She strained her eyes, taking in this new form, ready herself for more combat, gather what information she could --

Her eyes widened.

“...Zeke?”

The familiar voice called a halt to his advance. Doubt still circled his mind as he looked at the relic before him. His memory didn’t match up to what he was seeing, though. What he saw was a woman in distress, an individual who could barely breathe. His pupils dilated as the sobering possibility settled in his mind.

“Kiri.” It was a hard statement, but one that required confirmation. Zeke let a moment pass as he considered his own sanity before taking the reality of the situation into his own hands - literally. The wolf in man’s clothing reached out hesitantly, the distressed wheezing escalating his pause. His hand slowly but surely found it’s was to Kiri’s cheek. The sudden tangibility was enough to startle. Reacting first in anger, Zeke snarled, giving an enemy’s welcome. A second later, he began to accept components of what he was seeing. This was a young woman with a breathing problem who looked very similar to Kiri. And she knew his name…

“You need help,” he declared, his eyes scanning her up and down searching for something that made sense. Despite the few words that he spoke outwardly, he was asking himself far more questions internally. This can’t be real, can it? The last I saw her, she went into the void... Zeke shoved the impossible aside and stuck with what he knew to be true. This young woman couldn’t breathe. “You need to get to a hospital. I can help you.”

Kiri’s breath held still in her throat as ‘Zeke’ touched her face. He growled and Kiri stiffened, muscles coiled to fight. But he didn’t attack. Kiri forced herself to hold still, one excruciating breath at a time. He seemed to calm himself.

Kiri watched emotions flash and shutter through his eyes. Whoever this was… it wasn’t Zeke. He had the same build, the same features, the same voice… but he looked wrong somehow. His clothes were strange, his hair was different, something about the way he carried himself, the way his life was carved into his face. It wasn’t right. And the way he’d reached out, touched her like that. Kiri’d never known Zeke to touch anyone unless it was to block or strike.

In her mind’s eye Kiri saw Eliza’s body on the ground, twitching in pain, magicked to wear an enemy’s face and Kiri hadn’t figured it out until it was too late. She heard the click of a pistol readying to fire, the cold metal of a frozen gun held to the back of her head because she’d been stupid enough to let her guard down.

She wasn’t going to be fooled.

But even if this wasn’t Zeke, Kiri knew she was in no condition to fight. And this was the first lead she had. She needed to figure out where she was, why her illness had come back, and how to find Samael. The imposter could help.

Her eyes didn’t leave his. She nodded.

With that, Zeke’s mind began firing off on all cylinders, considering every possible option before him to rectify the problem as quickly as possible. He could drop this one-word woman off at the emergency room and walk away assuming everything went grand. Surely they'll have albuterol on hand. Then his hands would be clean of it. He’ll have saved a random asthmatic girl, a noble act.

But if she wasn’t random...

His eyes were far more keen than a typical human’s. He could see the wrinkles born of furrowed eyebrows and arced lips. He could notice the expectation that came with true dependence. This woman’s eyes were stone cold as she nodded for aid. The world was beginning to swirl. There were too many indications of the impossible. Out of frustration and surrender, Zeke finally asked the question. “Kiri Hae?”

She watched him, took in the way he studied her. He said her name like a question -- like he wasn’t sure she was herself. Why would he question it? Wasn’t he a construct? Wasn’t he there to trick her? She nodded again.

Her muscles ached. Every inch of her body cried for rest, for stillness, for air. But she couldn’t rest. Every moment wasted was another moment Samael got further out of reach.

”Where is this?” she finally asked.

Zeke's eyes had gradually become bloodshot, his adrenaline slowly escalating as the possibility of the skeletons in his closet breaking free had become a reality. He recalled the day the Red Hoods fell. The portal, the sacrifice. And now... the resurgence. Wrinkles instantly appeared on Zeke's forehead as he made his decision.

"I am Zeke and you are in a whole new fucking world." Her breathing was not improving and they were running out of time. Without waiting for permission, he swept Kiri off her feet, cradling her in his arms and began sprinting, his eyes like lasers staring straight ahead. A sobering notion crept into his mind. She was a centuries old undocumented relic of the past. A trip to the hospital would be a bureaucratic nightmare. There were places and people who would provide medical treatment with an added bonus of discretion. Zeke decided he was going to call in a favor. Lucky for him, the city was rich with seedy individuals that preferred that sort of currency.

After running down a wet block, the thumps of his feet firing off with the rhythm of an assault rifle, they eventually found themselves outside an apartment door in the middle of a complex that was in dire need of maintenance. The once pristine pearl paint that decorated it had turned an off-putting brown like a spreading infection. Zeke considered how he must’ve looked to Kiri after all this time, age affecting his own appearance, pulling the color out of his now silver hair with the face of a season veteran. He carefully set Kiri down and squinted.

“The man on the other side of this door can help you tonight. Short term.” As he spoke the words, he attempted to come up with new solutions, but failed miserably. Of all the things he could have learned in these centuries, he never thought to study the medical profession. What good is medicine to someone who can’t find death? “But the decision is yours.”

The words had barely left his mouth when a flash of silver went arcing towards his neck. It was her cousin Haru’s thorn dagger, the one he’d given to her when they’d seen each other last. Kiri had dropped her staff. Thoughts of biding her time and gathering information had flown out of Kiri’s head when he’d picked her up and whisked her away to who knew where, and now she was trapped between him and a door. Kiri moved as quick as she could, forcing her way through her pain and exhaustion. She tried to slip around his hulking mass, air burning in her chest. She was stopped though, nearly doubling over as a wave of coughing overcame her.

“KIRI!” He shouted, his words supernaturally thunderous as he stood as still as a gargoyle. His intentions were to simply to give her pause, but the volume of his call permeated through the doorway as well and a very nervous, extremely awkward fellow crept out of the entrance to his domicile

“Oh! B-Bishop! Uh, I didn’t know we w-were on tonight.” As Zeke looked at him, all he could imagine was the realistic interpretation of Shaggy from the Scooby Doo cartoons. The young man with a face sprinkled in prepubescent hair starred on in bewildered curiosity. Zeke looked to him and made a simple, rumbled demand.

“Inhaler.”

With a seemingly permanent look of confusion, the young man disappeared into the shadows of his apartment and reammerged with a cubic device that had wires and hoses sprouting from it, one of which was tethered to an extension cord and plugged into one of his internal outlets. “Alright” he said looking to Kiri, awkwardly holding the nebulizer in one hand and the mouthpiece in another, presenting the latter with a healthy dose of nervousness as a zookeeper would when trying to feed an alligator, “When I flip this switch, ya gotta breathe in this end and just, you know, do it slowly.“

Zeke looked upon it all with a healthy suspicion, but also as an opportunity. “While you’re regaining your breath,” he started, his casual voice sounding like slow rolling thunder. “Maybe you can give me the short version of how your presence here and now, is possible.”

Kiri glared up at him, sparing a glance at the second man, not moving towards the device he held.

“Where am I? Where’s Samael?” she demanded, hating how labored her voice sounded.

The name raised the hairs on the back of Zeke’s neck. The enemy that got away… the enemy that took so much with him… The enemy that threw him on his ass… The werewolf strode passed the man holding the nebulizer and shot Kiri a look, beckoning her to follow him inside. The place had an odor to it. The smell of burnt plants and dirty dishes filled the air. It was the epitome of a Man Cave. Decorations were largely absent. This man owned only what was essential. White walls, cheap wooden and plastic furniture and a big screen TV that would likely burn out in a year.

As Zeke took a seat at what passed for a dining room table, he looked at Kiri with an inquisitive brow. “It’s been literal centuries since I have seen you. What year do you think it is?” As he asked the almost rhetorical question, he raised his arms up in the humble apartment and did a small whisk, highlighting the internal electronics and electrical lighting. If she, too, was nigh immortal, he wanted to know how and why.

What… what year? Kiri’s eyebrows furrowed together. Her eyes flicked around the room at the furniture and odd things she couldn’t identify.

“I saw you-” she’d seen Zeke “-today. Fighting Samael.” Her fingers tightened around Haru’s dagger like a lifeline, the last weapon she had. “Answer me. Where am I?”

Zeke took in an audible breath through his nostrils, the puzzle coming together. If she thought she saw him fighting Samael today then… “You’re in Duncaster, same as before. Only now you’re about three hundred years older than you once were. Now put down the knife and catch your breath.” He looked to his associate before returning his gaze to Kiri. “This is Dave. He’s not going to hurt you. I could break him before he ever got the chance.” A glance at Dave would reveal the face of someone in an utter state of confusion. One could hardly blame him after what he was hearing.

Kiri didn’t obey, remaining standing, knife secure in her hand. Dave wasn’t the one she was worried about. But then his other words registered in her mind. ‘Three hundred years.’ She stared at Zeke. This… this was Duncaster? No, that… wasn’t possible, right? If this really was Zeke, and he was telling the truth… no mage could possibly be that strong. Brighid had sold her soul to get enough power to just call a storm. But what Zeke was talking about…

“I have all the time in the world…”

Samael’s words echoed in Kiri’s mind. At once, things snapped into place. The pressure that never released its grip on her windpipe tightened again, her heart rate picking up. Kiri squeezed her eyes shut, doubling over to cough again. The back of her hand came up to cover her mouth. Her abdomen ached with every cough, the muscles tired and overworked. Everything was overworked. She was still exhausted and filthy from the battle, disoriented, alone --

Kiri was tired. Exhaustion flowed through her body like blood, painful and heavy. She needed to keep moving forward, to do her job, to follow through. She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t tired. Not since before Fallcliff -- not since before the dopplegangers, or Locksley, or… her uncle.

Her family. If she was three hundred years in the future… they were gone. Her parents. Her clan..

Haru.

She had to get back. She couldn’t have just… abandoned them all, not again.

And what about her companions? The other Hoods? The tethers connecting them all were burnt and frayed. It was like a phantom limb, severed and healed over. But the nerves hadn’t quite realized they were dead yet -- every now and then she’d forget herself, try to move it because it was natural -- it was easy. Despite their many differences, despite how difficult Kiri knew herself to be, and how stressful their lives were and the mistakes they made, they were a team. They relied on Kiri, trusted her, and that… that was everything.

Then she’d look up, and see Eliza across the room, sunken and withdrawn. She’d see Colin, hair shorn close to his skull, ashen like death. And she’d remember.

And it was… it was her fault. Wasn’t it?

Kiri told herself it didn’t matter. If they didn’t trust her, if they hated her -- fine. She didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to care. She still had a responsibility to them. She had a job to do. And so Kiri swallowed her pain, forced it down her too-tight throat, into her aching chest., told herself she couldn’t feel it every time she breathed.

Kiri forced her head up as the wave of coughs passed. “I have to… find Samael.” The wheezing was coming back. Why was it back?

“Mmm.” A lone grunt was all Zeke could offer as he stared at her inquisitively, studying. The consequences of her presence here and now was not lost on him, but the possibilities that came with it were too vast to immediately consider. As he looked on, he recognized certain tells of emotion, but they seemed so foreign on her specifically.

The Kiri he knew was hardened, driven by a specialized purpose, not unlike himself. She was motivated. The intention was there, but perhaps it needed a push.

“And when you find him, what next?” he posed. “Are you going to throw a punch and then spend five minutes recuperating from the effort?” His brows descended into an arch of aggression as he looked to her. “Are you going to charge at him and then call a time out?” His lips slowly began to reel back from his teeth. “If you have any hope of standing against anyone you’ve got to trust me,” he growled, his words becoming sharp as his patience gradually vanished.

Kiri matched his glare with one of her own, though the effect was dampened by the way she struggled to hold herself upright, skin pallid under the layers of mud and gore. “Do I?” she spat back. “Say you’re telling the truth, this isn’t some illusion, this —” she cut herself off, struggling against her own breath. “Say this is Duncaster. Three hundred years have gone by. I follow Samael through the portal and you’re the first person I see? Zeke should be dead.”

“On that, we can agree,” he shot back, his words sounding poisonous with spite, heated from several lifetimes of remorse. “And yet, here we are.” He took in a breath and allowed a moment’s pause to recenter himself. Proof, perhaps, is what was necessary and there was only one way he knew to help accomplish that. “Dave, please excuse yourself,” he requested in a fashion that better resembled a direct order. The young man threw his arms up, seemingly surrendering any hope he had of making sense of this before walking down the hall to his bedroom, muttering under his breath about getting out of this sort of business. Zeke’s pupils remained fixated on Kiri’s own and as he stared, his teeth began to grind against eachother and his irises began to turn. The dark hazel that once encompassed most of his eye seemed to change to a vibrant shade of yellow. Even the shape itself took on a subtle transformation.

“You’re not dead,” he began, his human voice rapidly deteriorating into something animalistic. “You’re not dreaming.” His tone was soon composed of sheer rasp. “This is real. And I am Ezekiel fucking Midas.” His jaws began to click in a sickening, destructive way as the bones beneath the skin broke and reformed. But as quickly as the transformation began, it subverted. His teeth, his eyes… they found their soul once more. “And I swear… I’m here to help.”

Fear was slow and icy as it crawled up Kiri’s spine. She watched Zeke’s form distort, eyes never leaving his own, listening to the cracking and growling and changing. Kiri was small. Mortal. Breathless and frail. But she didn’t flinch away. It seemed sheer stubbornness and pride were the only things keeping her upright. She was aching and tired and alone, and all she knew was that she couldn’t back down — it tethered her, when everything else slipped out of her desperate grasp.

Then Zeke pulled back. The monster faded beneath the surface and the man returned. Her heartbeat thundered in time with her weak breath. Her exhausted mind tried to piece itself together, find some thread of sense in this new reality. Her mind flashed back to Eliza’s body wearing and enemy’s face, twitching in pain beneath her. If this was another distraction, another trick... she’d almost killed Eliza because she’d allowed herself to be fooled. Zeke could’ve killed her at any time. It stung to admit it, but even when she was in top form, she’d never been a match for him. If this was meant to be a distraction, then… for what purpose? And if he was telling the truth, wasn’t this good? Kiri was in uncharted territory, her illness was back, and this was possibly the one person alive who could help her.

And Kiri… Kiri was tired of feeling alone.

She nodded.

Zeke squinted, as if dubious, trying to read any deception, anticipate any surprise that might be hiding behind the gesture. When none were presented, his body slumped a bit as he exhaled, his muscles releasing their tension as they accepted that the potential fight had passed.

“Well,” he started. “First step is the most obvious. If you’re going to be any use to anyone, we’ve got to get you back into combat shape.” He ended the sentence with a hard glance to the nebulizer, a contraption that even he would not have trusted, much less let enter his mouth centuries ago. “Once you regain your faculties, you’ll need to regain your wits. You’ve been through a lot. I imagine you’re exhausted. We’ll get you a place to sleep. And then… Well, then I guess we’ll try to figure out just what the hell happened on that night so long ago.”

Hell of a night, he thought silently. As much as he tried to pretend he had a plan in place, he’d hoped she couldn’t tell that he truly had no idea what to do next.

---

Shit. He'd been discovered. There went plan A.

Colin pressed closer the metal carriage he was hidden behind (Where were the stables? For so many carriages parked they must be nearby.), muscles itching in preparation as he reached, quietly sliding his knives out from their sheaths. Carefully, he peeked around the corner, trying to get a better look at the pair.

The smaller one, clearly little more than a child, was closest to him. Even with vampiric strength, Colin doubted he'd be much stronger than he himself. If either made a move, he could make a grab the younger one, hold a knife to his chest, get the older to tell him where the fuck Samael was.

Sweat mixed with dirt in his palms.

For now, he would wait.

---

With a frown making itself to Aiden’s face, which was otherwise hidden beneath his hood, the teenager exhaled a frustrated sigh. If he attempted to leave the situation, this most unwelcomed gestalt would likely cease such an opportunity and strike. Strength of an Olympian athlete ran through the boy’s veins, the prowess of an Angel at his fingertips, and yet, young humanity and a lack of experience did warrant a rapidly beating heart. ”Relax..,” Lumen’s voice caressed Aiden’s senses, a warm hand moving towards the teen’s cheek where a palm flattened against its shape. ”You.., we.., are warriors. Knights of Heaven.” Though the eyes meeting Aiden’s own were of reflective obsidian, their very presence glowed with steadfast determination. ”Now fulfill your duty, and stand against adversity, as is your purpose, Aiden Connors!” Lumen vanished from sight, before appearing behind the boy and pushed him towards danger.

Stumbling forward, Aiden cussed quietly for himself, followed by taking another step, and a third, finally leaping onto the hood of an old car which sheltered their newly acquired enemy. ”Enough games!” The boy shouted, swiping his hand in a straight motion, within which a blinding light erupted to leave a long, slender blade of impossible, glowing white. The Celestial weapon made itself known with little subtlety as it found home between Aiden’s slender fingers, its length pointed towards he who remained hidden. ”Vampire or Werewolf, come what may, you face an Angel, now!”

---

At the commotion behind her, Violet paused. The slight thunk of warping metal, the shameless yelling. In the middle of the night, of all times. While she didn't quite catch what was being said, her cringe at the words managed to scrunch the entirety of her body. She needed to pick up her pace, turn a corner and get back to her fucking apartment.

Or...she could satisfy the itching at the back of her neck, a physical manifestation of that which would kill her. After all, the kid could be in trouble.

She stopped, rotated, and cursed heavily at what she saw.

So, the kid definitely wasn't a human. If the glowing sword that popped out of nowhere was any proof. From her angle, Violet couldn't see what he was shouting at, but he was looking down at something. Or someone. Or nothing, and he was just a crackhead.

"Kid, is...uh, everything alright?"

---

Colin winced, everywhere, impossibly white, so bright it burned. He threw an arm across his face in an attempt to shield his eyes, but it made little difference. And then - an angel? Was this another of Samael's tricks? What other reason would a fucking angel have to be in Samael's lair? Colin knew fuck all about angels, but from what he did know, they'd never been particularly pally with necromancers.

Either way, there was definitely no hiding now. Squinting against the light, Colin yelled back, "Like fuck you're an angel! Tell your boss to pull the other other one!"

---

Raising a brow at the statement, Aiden noted a voice within his mind. It was Lumen, the Spirit now communicating with the boy in far more intimate manner. ”Wait. This man’s clothes, his boots, the arrows, those knives.., Aiden, things are not as they seem.” The teenager proceeded to linger for a moment, before descending from the car. With a nearly weightless thud, Aiden’s feet connected with the concrete and he lowered Ivory, along with previous hostilities. ”He spoke of our ‘boss’. This man is looking for someone.”

”We’re fine,” the Angel offered, his eyes turned to Violet for a brief exchange, before moving back to the most urgent point of interest. ”People have not used bows in a long time,” the boy casually motioned towards Colin’s arrows with his blade, the weapon’s light now dimming, in response to Aiden’s equally faded hostility.

”He is wounded, dirty, and lost. The man’s hair has not been cut in some time, marks of battle riddle his frame.., how out of place.” Lumen continued, his ghostly voice echoing within Aiden’s mind, ”ask him what year it is.”

At the Spirit’s words, the Angel took a moment to analyze this man’s appearance. Indeed, none of it belonged. A reenactor? Impossible. No one was quite this in tune with their character. ”What..,” Aiden began, thinking it ridiculous, but why would it be? Angels, Vampires, Werewolves, and even Demons if rumors were to be believed.., why not this? ”..year is it..?”

---

An angel? Memories of wing-like wisps were recollected in Violet's mind. This little kid was an Angel? No way. It was a ridiculous thought. Because if angels were real, that meant there was some form of afterlife. If that was true...then Violet was fucked!

She needed answers. And, if that boy wasn't a total nut, he had them. She knew she could potentially discern the truth. Only if she could rely on herself, for once. Such a big if.

Creeping closer, she stuck her hand into her purse. With a casual grace, she slipped her fingers through her Spartan keychain, the grip comforting her. Not nearly as deadly as a sword, but she'd rather use it than her bare fists. "Who's the new guy?" She thought she had heard a guy's voice, at least.

---

Colin scrambled backwards as the ‘angel’ jumped down from the carriage, his eyes falling on the boy’s shoes. Fabric, white and black, impossibly clean. What? His attention flicked back to the sword, dimmer, but still gripped in small, vampirically pale fingers.

Colin stood, hiding the stumble in his step, palms scraping against the rough ground, eyes fixed on the sharp edge of the sword the whole time, “You can fuck off with your three-hundred years bullshit,“ he hissed, “I didn’t buy it from tall, pale and fang-y, I’m not buying it from you, whatever the fuck you claim to be!”

---

A lingering moment of silence maintained itself between the trio, and Aiden’s obsidian gaze remained fixed on this mysterious gestalt, who appeared lost in time. Lumen’s voice had halted Aiden’s advance, and indeed, it was for the best, but the boy was somewhat frustrated. Every second since leaving Steve’s hideout had been wasted. It was nothing grounded in experienced mistakes, but rather, a rookie’s distractions. ”Fine.” The Angel stated.

In his hand, Ivory’s presence vanished in a slew of white, divine fractals. One would be forgiven for mistaking the dispersal a gathering of petals, blowing into the wind before fading from this world. ”I have my own ‘Pale and Fangy’ enemies to hunt.”

For anyone else, Ivory’s disappearance was little more than a graceful display, but for Aiden, those fractals all shaped themselves into the Spirit who once more stood beside him. ”It’s not wise to leave this man to his own devices.”

Turning to take a step away, Aiden shifted his gaze to Violet, before offering another look towards the curious ‘time traveler’. ”I do want to help you. Maybe it’s because I’m clinging to my humanity, so.., perhaps it’s a selfish reason, but I don’t think it’s worth wasting more time on, if you’re dead set on pairing me up with whoever your enemy is.”

---

At the...seemingly homeless man's hissing, Violet raised a calming hand, keeping the other firmly in her purse. He seemed to be wholeheartedly ignoring her, which was his own problem. At least she hadn't threatened him with a pointy stick. Yet.

"Hey, dude, calm down alright? We can get you some help if you need it." wanting to be reassuring, she added, "Unlike the kid, I'm human. You got a phone? I'll dial up your family."

---

About to spit back a retort at the boy, Colin's attention shifted to the woman. Skin, warm and human looking. Mouth, apparently free of fangs. But her clothing was bizarre, unnaturally clean, like the boy’s.

And then she mentioned a 'phone', and 'dialing up' people - what did that mean? What was she going to do? She may be human but that didn't mean she wasn't working for Samael. He gripped his daggers tight, "You hurt them and you're dead! Now tell me where Samael is and I might let you live!"

---

”Aiden,” Lumen spoke, appearing in front of the boy, in a manner befitting the station of ‘Angelic Spirit’, and prevented the teenager from walking further. ”talk to him. Do not abandon him. Inaction may as well lead disaster on another front.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, Aiden turned on his heel, once again facing the mysterious stranger. Yes, Lumen was correct. Indifference towards mortals would start with a small spark, and this could very well have been it. Despite the man’s threat, and his hostile demeanor, Aiden did not respond in kind. Rather, he remained stationary, and had yet to conjure forth his blade, for a second time. ”You met someone else since getting here? Someone who mentioned.., what was it? Three-hundred years?” The boy tried.

”You’re tired, hurt, and from a quick glance, down to your offhand weapon,” the teenager pointed out, motioning towards the blades this man was more than willing to use. ”I am fairly certain that you’re aware of how this would go, and you’re at a severe disadvantage.” Narrowing his eyes, Aiden continued. There was no malice in his voice, none whatsoever, but rather, an analysis brought into words. ”If you’re looking for your friends, making some along the way is beneficial in finding them.”

Tilting his head, Aiden moved to cross his arms, tapping a slender finger against his biceps. ”Or have you decided that this ‘Samael’ is everywhere you look? You know, taking a chance on the unbelievable can sometimes benefit you, and as it stands, the only one willing to hurt anyone, here.., is you.”

---

”You’re weak - let the fanged bastards know it ‘n you’ll be dead as well.”

The boy had a point, much as Colin hated to admit it. It was hard enough fighting a leech when he didn’t feel like he was wading through treacle and when his bow hadn’t disappeared along with his former captor. Now? He’d rather run. Only problem was he didn’t know where the fuck he was, aside from Samael’s lair. He needed information. Whoever these two were, there was a chance they could provide it, even if they were just waiting for their opportunity to strike.

He didn’t lower his weapon, but there was an almost audible lessening of hostility in his tone when he spoke, “The fuck is a phone - what’re are you gonna do if I don’t go along with you?”

---

The situation had been bubbling up to a solid eight, and now, everything was back at a calm and collected five. The knives were still in play, but it didn't seem like someone was on the verge of being stabbed anymore.

Hopefully, Violet could keep the LARPers in check.

At the man's question, Violet released the Spartan in exchange for her cellular device. She pulled it out slowly, displaying it for the man. She scrolled through her notifications briefly, then turned it off.

"This," She waved it in the air. "Is a phone. It's for communicating over long distances. I somehow doubt you've memorized your family's number...so, maybe we should try the hospital?" She looked to the boy for help.

"As for what we'll do if you...don't 'go along'," She knew she'd call the cops, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "We'll leave you to do whatever it was you were doing. We both have better things to do with our lives than entertain you, but we're trying to help. 'Kay?"

---

”I would advise against calling a hospital, Aiden,” the Spirit spoke, considering the situation, ”they will lock him into an asylum before long, and this individual is clearly not insane. He’s in the wrong.., time.” Lumen finished.

”A hospital will just lock him up,” Aiden offered, and fell into a slew of thoughts. Lumen was convinced that this man was from a different time, rather than a mere lunatic. He did not smell of alcohol, either, which granted the theory substance. ”We can’t force you to do anything, but before moving on, I’d like to ask you a question,” the boy continued. He let his arms fall to his sides, and proceeded to gently lean against the car which had previously been in the center of conflict. ”Could you maybe tell us about this ‘Samael’? I know you halfway assume that we’re working for him but.., humor us. Got nothing to lose.”

---

Number? Hospital? Locking people up?

As the boy moved, leaning against the carriage, Colin took a step back, eyes not leaving the ‘phone’. The small device had glowed, lights flickering and changing in response to the woman’s touch - ‘long distance communication’ the woman had said - was this how Samael was giving them their orders? Did Vitius have one too? Was that how Samael had called him back?

Colin grit his teeth at the boy’s question, what was he playing at? Was he trying to figure out how much Colin, and by extension the hoods, knew? “Like you don’t know about the army of the dead? The hoods have been tracking him for months now - we know everything,” he hesitated, the buildings, the lights, the noise - it all seemed to go on forever, “we know all about this lair, right now, there’s a whole fucking army of hoods, just waiting outside - you take me to Samael and I’ll tell them you helped, lock me up and you’ll be slaughtered with the rest of his minions!”

---

The...hoods. Why did that seem so familiar? Violet dug through her mind, but without the added help from her newfound abilities she was only able to fetch a name.

"Hoods...like, like Blanket Rogue?" That was completely wrong, she was sure, but it seemed close enough. Blanket was a badass, if she remembered correctly. Wandered ye olde Duncaster in a red cloak, fighting criminals.

That had been Violet's favorite history lesson, but she had still failed that fucking test. Had her benched in volleyball for a week!

Batting back the memory, she gave the crazed man another, lingering look. His yellow cloak glared at her, obvious now. "So you're telling me you're with Blanket?" She wasn't going to bring up how impossible that was. Everything she had known up to this point seemed irrelevant.

"If that's true, why'd she send you off into the 'evil lair' without a way to signal for backup?" She couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her lips. This was funny. "Unless you...I don't know, can call for backup. Then go ahead. We can't take you to this Sam guy, so you may as well imprison us and waterboard us 'till we squeal."

---

It was probably best not to mention the fact that he’d jumped through the portal after Kiri with no actual plan in mind. Samael was probably banking on that. Probably banking on him not realising Kiri was a traitor too. Maybe…

“The hoods don’t waterboard people, and I would signal the Commander, but I need to find my-” the hesitation was accidental, but it was too late, he’d already stumbled, he kept going, “friend - she has my… long range communication device that the hoods also have the technology for…”

He was fucked. Well and truly.

---

Inhaling a short breath, Aiden raised a brow at Violet’s explanation. She knew far more about this than he had anticipated, if she wasn’t faking such knowledge. The boy himself knew nothing, which was, in turn, echoed by Lumen. What remained to use was observation. ”Army of the Dead.., Samael.., okay, I assume this Samael dude is a mage? A wizard?” The teenager asked. It was a reasonable conclusion, given the reluctant information so far provided. Few others would warrant an army of undead soldiers, as it was.

”Yes, that does appear to be a reasonable assumption,” Lumen agreed, fingers rubbing his chin in thought. The Spirit was understandably curious as to how this stranger had arrived on the shores of present day.

”If that’s the case..,” Aiden continued, ”is it too far-fetched to believe that this.., Samael with an Army of the Dead.., cast a spell that sent you into the future?” A shot in the dark, but things were appearing to line up. Magic was undoubtedly involved in the man’s presence. Nothing else made sense. ”Maybe the..,” Aiden quoted with a gesture of his fingers, ”’three-hundred year bullshit’ makes more sense than you want it to.”

The boy would then proceed to motion at their surroundings, ”you’re calling this a lair? Duncaster, or just the street? A short pause crept into their conversation, as Aiden allowed the statement to settle.

Are your ‘Hood’ friends ‘outside’? Where? Outside the city?” Questioning the man’s delusions may have been an adequate way of perhaps breaking them. That is, if he was willing to listen.

”I get it, dude, you don’t want to believe it. This morning, you didn’t expect to be standing in front of a kid claiming to be an Angel. It’s fucked up.” Managing a small smile, the boy shook his head. Indeed, the world was, as they said, ‘fucked up’. ”If you take a moment to just.., digest your situation, what do you see? Honestly?”

---

Colin didn’t have time to digest anything.

Every second wasted was another second Samael had to retreat, regroup, focus his efforts on building his defense. If he didn’t get to him before then, then nothing mattered. These two weren’t going to be helpful, not like this. They’d made it pretty clear they weren’t taking him to Samael, at least not until he believed the time travel crap they seemed to be trying to pedal. Fine. He could play along.

Slowly, he started to back away.

“Say I believe you,” he ground out, “This is the future. This is Duncaster. Everyone is-” don’t go there, move on, “I wasn’t the first one through that portal. I followed my friend,” it was like the word itself was acid, “And she followed Samael. He’s here and I need to fucking find him or everything’s gonna go to shit.”

---

Violet's brow furrowed deeply at his desperation. He seemed set in his ways, unable to open his mind to anything. She wished she could convince him but...it seemed pointless. His tension was evident.

It couldn't hurt to try, one last time.

"Alright, dude. I get how urgent this is to you...but, you can't do it all in one night. You look like a fucking methhead, and if you keep running around with a pair of knives you're going to get arrested." She pointed warily at his knives. They would only serve to get him in trouble if he couldn't put them away. "I'll take you to my place, you can shower and get some food. You don't have to spend the night or anything, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve to send you on the right track." Maybe, she couldn't really promise anything. "The kid's coming with, though. I don't trust you enough not to stab me."

After all, the angel boy couldn't kill her. Right? It had to go against the angel code to stab a human in cold blood. Violet pursed her lips momentarily, before her face settled into an image of calm.

---

”Progress is being made,” Lumen noted, a hand moving to find home on the boy’s shoulder. Onlookers would likely have considered the situation one of absurdities. Why on Earth would Aiden prioritize such a trivial manner over his mission? An incredibly important mission, for that matter. Indeed, the answer could be found within the teenager’s shifting nature. With every day, he felt how the value previously afforded those around him was slowly fading. He was becoming focused on end-goals, and his purpose as a slayer of monsters, rather than a person.

Lumen had explained for Aiden on numerous occasions what Angels actually were. Weapons, dutiful soldiers, it was the extent of an Angel’s worth. They were agents of divinity, avengers. An Angel’s care for others generally did not extend further than their own kind, who they vehemently sought to protect.

Had Angelic love for humanity been a norm, Miracles would have been far more common, rather than mythical rarities. Yes, compassion for humanity was known as an occurrence, but such Angels were often shunned, and their powers were considered wasted on something so.., impure.

”Fine..,” Aiden spoke, turning his attention towards Violet. ”I have a penthouse not too far from here, but..,” the boy paused. He had technically moved out, left the nest, as it were. However, he had yet to fully appreciate his new home, as Infinity Enterprises consumed any free time the young shareholder managed to grasp.

The move was finalized only two days prior, and yet, Aiden had not taken the time to enjoy his newly given privacy. Rather, the streets of Duncaster cradled his attention far more frequently, and the only part of his new apartment Aiden had actually explored was the bedroom, and shower.

”I just moved in, so, I don’t know where most things are.” Another peculiar situation. Buying a new home was usually a milestone in a person’s life, and for Aiden, he had not even scraped up the time to enjoy it. Part of him still believed he lived in his parents’ mansion. ”It also lacks my butler, which sucks.”

---

Colin eyed the pair warily.

The woman said she could help find Samael. Not in so many words, but the meaning had been clear. At the mention of food, his stomach growled. The last time he ate was… he couldn’t remember. Before the battle, back at the keep. More than a day ago. His aching limbs, pounding head, hollow, empty stomach screamed at him to say yes. Another voice, deeper and rough with age, told him that if he let his guard down he wouldn’t last the night.

Going with them would be stupid.

Going with them would get him killed.

Going with them meant the woman would help him find Samael.

“Fine.” He said, “But I’m keeping my knives, and you have to help me find Samael after.”

Colin still didn’t believe them, but if this was a trap Samael would be there anyway, and if it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t hurt to eat. Hunger only kept you sharp for so long, and he was starting to reach his limit.

---

“Cy, what’re we gonna go now?” The silence blanketing Cyrus’ mind shifted, making way for the fleeting voice to come to the front. The sensation itself was odd at first, his body only capable of hearing the organic life around him, but he’d grown accustomed to it; so much so that it became less of a force he needed to keep ‘turned on’ and more of a feeling that came and went effortlessly whenever his attention focused on his surroundings. “They aren’t here. A-And I looked...and you looked...and Mana looked too. Why are we still here?” This time, Cyrus glanced down at the smaller boy, steel eyes wandering around the other’s crestfallen face.

The elder decided it was time to take a break from all the mindless walking so the the two were currently standing next to the side of a concrete building huddled up under the former’s sleek black umbrella; it was truly the safest place for both of them to be. Straightening from his leaned back posture before sliding down to Kaleo’s level, Cyrus brushed his bruised hand against the former’s cherubic face, eventually moving to his messy hair before leaving it there.

“I know you’re tired, but there’s still a few more things I want to check out before we move on.” Cyrus sighed quietly, knowing how selfish he sounded for dragging his little brother all over the city for what could potentially be no reason at all. It was obvious that Kaleo wasn’t taking his words too kindly either despite how tolerant he wanted to look, his bottom split lip quivering ever so slightly but enough for Cyrus to want to make it up to him, even if it was just a little. “Hey, one more place for tonight. Then we can head in for the day, okay? It shouldn’t take long, but I’ll carry you…?” With his last statement coming out more as a plea for the little boy’s patience than a statement, Cyrus was taken aback when the later leaned into him, wrapping his shorter arms around his neck.

A familiar warmth spread across the deaf teen’s chest. No words were needed. With minimal effort, Cyrus stood with Kaleo tucked into his arm, while his other hand gripped his umbrella tightly, and he continued to what he promised to be their final location for the day…

---

"You have a good night, Kassandra. Take care and see you around."

"Yeah, you too. Have a good night."

After shaking hands, the detective pointed to the visitor badge clipped to Kassandra's collar. She looked down, wondering what was going on before she realized she needed to turn that in as well.

"Sorry, here you go," she smiled nervously as she handed him the badge. After that, she headed towards the door leading outside. It was already dark out, the only source of light available were those of streetlamps and external lights from other buildings. As she exited through the front door, Kassandra reached for her phone. She noticed she had a missed call and some text messages, nothing of much importance except for Desmond's message. She proceeded to call him to let him know she was done. Earlier that day, he'd offered to pick her up once she could go.

Kassandra walked forward, mindlessly messing with her phone as the line continued ringing without answer. She wondered whether he was anywhere near his device, or even asleep. This didn't anger her at all, thought she did want to see him that night as it was arranged.

But just as she was starting to hang up, Kassandra collided with something, immediately taking a reactionary step back. Right away, the young woman noticed that she had ran into a boy carrying an even younger person on him. The older one didn't quite look to be of age yet, and she automatically assumed he was a juvenile on his way out of the station as well.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," she simply said, pocketing her phone.

Whilst Kassandra took a step back, Cyrus barely moved, the recoil from the collision doing very little to distract the intense gaze he had on the station in front of him. The mere thought of going back into a building with so much...authority made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. He thought he’d be over such a dumb insecurity, but there was too much at stake. Thankfully, however, there was someone up in Heaven who decided to make his life less of a living hell than it already was.

Cyrus slowly pulled his attention away from the station and over to who exactly bumped into him. Despite looking on the frailer side compared to other women he’s seen walking around Duncaster at night, her voice provoked the opposite; a sense of maturity and capability mingling with his brother’s deep and even puffs of breath on the crook of his neck. Judging by how she walked into him, she had to have come from that station…

"Do you work there?” Disregarding the apology and getting straight to the point, the steel eyed boy jutted his head towards the building, while his less occupied hand twirled the umbrella idly with his fingers. “Policewoman? Detective? Private Investigator?” he practically growled out, already growing impatient with his inquiries. The only reason he seemed to stop and take a breath was when Kaleo stirred in his grasp, a deeper frown tugging at his lips as he kept still.

"No, I don't..."

“...I need help finding someone. Three people. But I don’t...I don’t know how it works...and I don’t have any money either…” He sounded so dumb and pathetic, but what else could he do? Every other lead he had immediately led to a dead end, and this was the only place where he could reliably find people to help him out. Unfortunately, given his circumstances, the station was one of the last options he had.

"I can't necessarily help you in that regard, but I know someone who may."

Kassandra figured the boy wasn't messing around given his demeanor. The encounter itself was a bit weird, but even so, she imagined he had a good reason for making such request. Although it was a bit late, and the only thing she felt like doing was visiting Desmond, taking a relaxing bath, and then going to bed afterward.

"Don't worry about the money, I'm sure my friend will give you an IOU," she smirked, anticipating Desmond's reaction if she were to bring the boy down to his place. At the very least, he would have a "talk" with her after the fact. "So what do you say, are you down for the walk?"

Cyrus stared at the woman in front of him as if she suddenly grew an extra head. This was far too good to be true, and honestly a little bit sketchy. She just so happened to know someone that could actually help him out? No payment needed from the get go? And not to mention the smirk that played on her lips. It honestly felt like more trouble than he could bother getting into…

...but this might just be the lead he needs.

Who knows, if worse comes to worse, he could get them out of the situation with the flick of his umbrella. Sorry, Leo, looks like I won’t be able to keep my promise. I’ll make it up for sure.

“Sure, just don’t try anything funny…” He eventually responded once his mind caught up with the current events.

"You admitted to having no money, trust me kid, you're fine. My name's Kassandra, by the way," she introduced herself, but refrained from shaking the boy's hand and instead kept both of hers in her pockets.

“Cyrus.” He mumbled afterwards, trying to ignore the implications she was making if he did have a penny to his name.

"His place is this way," she motioned over her shoulder so the boy could follow her. She knew Desmond could work his magic on his computer and get the boy the information he wanted, if such information was available anyway.

---

She knocked a few times, waiting silently before Desmond finally came to the door.

"Guess who," she smiled. "Listen, we need a favor from you, if that's alright."

Kassandra looked at the Cyrus to let him explain what needed to be done.

The teen was a little startled when Kassandra got straight to the point. H shifted under his weight, umbrella sheathed long ago and his free arm wrapped protectively around his little brother’s back. Steel eyes shared a glance with the woman before they lowered to the ground to stare at his worn down shoes.

“I’m looking for some people. Three. Two male, one female. They...don’t exactly have names, I mean they do but…” Cyrus’ frown deepened as he trailed off. “They look exactly like me, save for some color differences. And I just need a lead on where I could start looking for them.” Unable to keep himself from mumbling towards the end, Cyrus brought a hand up to rub his tired eyes.

Desmond stared at Kassandra as if she had two heads, but she dismissed him, knowing his attitude.

"Little man, listen... a name would be much more helpful in this situation. If you can provide me with that, then this shouldn't take longer than a few minutes."

Left eye twitching a bit out of annoyance, Cyrus furrowed his brows in an attempt to remain calm.

“I g-get that, but…” Unsure of how to explain himself, Cyrus’ expression morphed into a more thoughtful one. ...it wouldn’t help if I tried to explain this anyways…

With that said, Desmond took out his phone and snapped a photo of Cyrus without warning. Name or no name, he'd run a FACES check to determine what information he could get from the system. "Don't be startled, I just need an image to use for comparison. Come on in, I need to get to my computer," he motioned, leaving the door open long enough for Kassandra and Cyrus to make their way inside.

Cyrus looked like a deer caught in headlights as his slit like pupils dilated, clearly caught off guard by the sudden flash blinding him for a moment. He couldn’t hear anything prior to the flash so of course he was a little spooked out by the action. Wide eyes shifted wearily to Kassandra, the little bit of trust he originally had in her starting to wane already. This guy, Desmond or whatever, wanted him to come into his house? Who knew what kind of shit he had in there?!

Paranoia creeped up Cyrus’ spine before he quickly willed it away. Now wasn’t the time to get freaked out...yeah, Desmond was an adult, him and Kassandra both were, but if they were really trying to help him out with this, then he had to go for it, no matter how much he wanted to run away.

Giving Kassandra one more look of uncertainty, the purple haired teen tightened his grip on Kaleo before entering, his frown never seizing to fade.

She knew he was nervous, being in a stranger's home and easily outnumbered was something she wouldn't necessarily take lightly, but Cyrus was the one who requested help, and he got it. Kassandra gave him a reassuring smile and followed him into the house, watching as Desmond headed straight to his computer a few rooms down. He was one to not exhibit his hardware for people to see, though his excessive need for privacy wasn't without reason.

"Let me upload this real quick..." he trailed off as Kassandra caught up and stood behind him. She looked down at Desmond clicking away at his keyboard; the rest of the dimly-lit room silent. On the screen, she noticed he had started up a program. Cyrus' surprised face appeared on one side, and opposite of that a number of faces blinking in and out of existence as the system did its best to find what Desmond was looking for.

After a few moments, however, the words "No Match" appeared in the center of the screen. Desmond turned on his chair to face his visitors, allowing them both to see the results.

"I'm sorry big guy, I've got no one matching your looks in this town. And just so you know, this information is being pulled directly from a government database."

Shoulders now slumped at the sight of yet another dead end, Cyrus nodded slightly in understanding.

“The government, huh…how are you able to even able do something like that? Do you work for them or something? Can’t you check somewhere else?” If this man had access to government information, he might have access to what he really needed. However, blurting out something so personal would only lead to the awkward questions that always followed afterwards.

"That's too many questions, now get," Desmond waved the boy to the door, his annoyed state obvious to Kassandra and Cyrus. "If they aren't on the database, then I don't know what to tell you."

"Come on, Cyrus, I'll walk you out," Kassandra motioned for him to join her, walking towards the front door through the small house. "As you can tell he's a very private person, but he did try to help. Sorry nothing came up... maybe you'll actually have to go to the station to get some answers."

Much like how Desmond made his annoyance obvious to the teen, Cyrus reciprocated the feeling, sucking his teeth loud enough to make a noise. Much like his reaction to when Kassandra bumped into him earlier, he made no attempt at showing his gratitude for even trying to look for him; but in all honesty, had he known the man was going to search through a government database, he probably would’ve saved more time telling him not to worry about it.

He followed Kassandra out regardless, finding no reason to stay, especially if he wasn’t going to get any answers.

“I guess I do…” he trailed off, the thought of where they were going to sleep for the night crossing his mind soon after; yet another thing he needed to worry about. Pushing the thought away for a moment as they made their way back out to the gloomy outdoors, Cyrus eyed Kassandra once more. “Were...were you looking for someone too? At the station?” His question came out very small compared to his normal tone of voice and habitual mumbling. Almost like he was looking for some sort of relatability...some sort of hope that he wasn’t the only one struggling.

"Not necessarily, no...I just had to take care of some stuff."

Kassandra smiled a little to mask her thoughts. The kid sure liked to ask questions, and she did not enjoy the fact that she wasn't sure was his motives were. In hindsight, she should have handled his earlier request in a different matter, something she was sure Desmond would emphasize over and over again.

"But anyway, I have to be off now. Good luck in the station, okay?"

Cyrus stiled for a moment before eventually nodding. Turning slightly on his heel, the purple haired teen’s nod would be the best Kasandra would get in terms of a farewell as he carried one towards one of the back alleyways.

He might as well keep his promise and wait until morning.

Location: Hell.
Time: N/A.
Interactions: None.

Vitius let his gaze wander over the dilapidated architecture and blown out buildings, his entire body on high alert. He may have been here before, and it's denizens might have ignored him for the most part, but that didn't mean he was safe. Nor did it mean he had room to be complacent. Any number of feral demons could be watching him, waiting for the prime moment to strike and rend him to pieces. As such, it'd be foolish for him to let his guard down completely, despite his familiarity with the place. Moving amidst the rubble, Vitius decided he needed a place to lay low for the duration of his stay here, and quickly made his way over to a nearby building whose windows were blown out and interior gutted. Making his way inside, the vampire quickly made his way over to a section of the structure that was both dark enough to hide in, and secure enough to where it wouldn't collapse while he was inside.

So, tucking himself into a corner, Vitius cleared his mind and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

And then he was back.

Back in Tenebris.

Back where he belonged.

And apparently sitting cross-legged, in a full suit of armor, right in the middle of someone's bathroom. Getting to his feet, the vampire cautiously made his way to the door and opened it a bit, peeking out into the connecting hallway. Not seeing anyone, he made his way out of the bathroom, his armor now obnoxiously loud in his ears. Fortunately it seemed as though no one was home to notice. Making his way downstairs, ash from his clothing spilling onto the floor, Vitius made his way to the front door and attempted to open it, to no avail. It was locked. While that wasn't much of an issue given his superior strength, Vitius didn't exactly like the idea of having to break down someone else's door. So he tried a window instead, and found that he could open the latch quite easily, but also that he couldn't actually fit through the opening itself thanks to his suit of plate mail. Letting out an annoyed sigh as he wrenched himself free from the things grasp, Vitius walked back over to the door, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the handle and forced the door open with a firm shove, causing the wood to splinter and tear as the latch tore through it. Gingerly swinging the door shut behind him, Vitius let out a curse as he felt a sharp stinging pain surge across his face, which brought with it the sound and smell of sizzling flesh. Quickly raising his arm to shield himself somewhat, he pulled his hood over his face and turned away from the offending light, feeling the bubbling of his skin slowly come to a stop once the exposure had ended.

Making his way through the sun bathed streets of what seemed to be a suburban neighborhood, it was hard to tell since he was mostly blind thanks to the light, he swiftly sought out the nearest point of shade. Which just so happened to be plastic shed in a neighboring yard. Wrenching open the door and closing it behind himself, Vitius tucked himself in the darkest corner he could find and began the arduously boring process of outwaiting the sun.

---

Violet lingered outside the door of her apartment, turned to the side to subtly block it from her companion's view. She feigned clumsiness, stabbing at the door with her key even though she knew it was unlocked. She couldn't hear any commotion within, but she knew someone had stayed behind to ensure she made it home.

Who would it be? Her overbearing mother, or her alienated brother? Violet sighed, slipped the key in the door, and opened it.

Her gaze immediately traveled to the couch, where her father sat. They made eye contact, and she cursed under her breath.

Her father was, to put it lightly, the best dad a person could ask for. When her mother was irritated, her father was the shoulder to cry on. When she was sick and her mother wanted her to go to school anyways, her dad let her stay in bed. He had gone halfway on the deposit for the apartment, and whenever she needed an oil change he was around.

How the hell could she lie to him?

"Dad..."

"Hey, Vi," His gaze darted past her, into the hall that she was desperately trying to block. "Where've you been?

Had he seen them? Oh God. He definitely had. Might as well work with it. "Out. I didn't go alone, though. These are my friends..." What were their names? Would they even play along if she gave them fake ones? "Come on, guys. Come meet my dad..."

She ushered them in, pleading with her eyes for the hobo to put away his knives. At least for the time being.

---

Casual interaction between ‘the rabble’, as Aiden’s father had Christened those beneath a status of wealth, was a minefield, for the boy. He stumbled through such conversations with little grace, and clung to whatever appeared available. However, the teenager could wear a mask, and he possessed a silver tongue. He had the ability to improvise, and he was most certainly no stranger to acting. Yes, not a single day in the silken palace of aristocracy allowed for honest representation. Rather, Aiden was expected to play a part, a role, which he had been assigned at birth. He was a rich man’s son, and the heir to a questionable company cradled by unimaginable treasure.

However, that role could very well change, even if temporarily. ”Hello, Sir!” Aiden spoke, raising a small hand as he greeted Violet’s father from a distant threshold. ”I’m Aiden, this is my brother,” the boy thumbed at their mysterious time-traveler. ”I’m sorry if we worried you, the LARPing session lasted longer than expected, and my brother’s really serious about the whole thing.” Followed by a small chuckle, Aiden presented a welcoming smile, and stepped into the young woman’s house, but only once she had done the same.

As per etiquette at his own home, Aiden slipped out of his converse shoes, and gently padded towards the older man who had made himself comfortable on the couch. The Angelic boy proceeded to pull his hood down, revealing a large mess of black hair, which managed a splendid job of covering Aiden’s eyes in thick bangs. However, with effort, the boy managed to surpass the issue, large obsidian orbs resting above a small, pale nose. Indeed, a young, seemingly innocent face peered across the room, evidently fitting an otherwise petite, and scrawny frame which made itself all the more visible once Aiden removed his jacket. He extended his hand for the older man to shake, and maintained a practiced smile.

---

The ‘apartment’ the woman was going on about appeared to be a living space, located in one of the huge towers that lined the road. Going in had been unnerving - it was even brighter in here than outside, like the bathroom earlier. Colin kept an eye on the other doors around them, just in case any more vampires burst out and tried to attack him.

Now though, the woman seemed to be talking to someone on the other side of the door - her dad. She hadn’t mentioned her dad being there. Last time Colin had met someone’s dad… was that why the woman was working for Samael? Was she being pressured into it by her dad? If that was the case, she might be open to joining the Red Hoods. She wouldn’t be the first recruit who joined to get away from her family, and she likely wouldn’t be the last.

Did that mean they’d have to kill her father too?

Colin swallowed the nausea that rose with that thought. One thing at a time. He followed the other two in, stomach dropping at the pleading look the woman gave him and the nervousness in her tone. Theory confirmed it seemed. He gripped the knives, still in his hands, tighter. Ready for any move the man might make.

He fixed the man with a cold look. He didn’t appear to be a fighter, and Colin couldn’t see any vampiric traits. Spellcaster then. Likely one of Samael’s inner circle… maybe that was what the woman meant when she said she had tricks up her sleeve? If he could get to Samael through the inside… this might actually work. And all Colin had to do was survive the next few minutes.

He watched the boy toe off his clean fabric shoes, revealing even cleaner socks - not a hole or a patch in them. Colin looked down at his own cracked leather boots - he hadn’t taken them off since the keep, and the laces were damp and thick with mud, not to mention the soles. The custom here seemed to be to take them off though, so he got down on one knee and tugged at the crusty knots, before yanking the shoes off. Nose wrinkling briefly at the resultant stench, he stood, realising a little too late the bloody stain his knee left on the soft beige rug that blanketed the floor. He supposed it didn’t matter too much, if all went to plan the woman would be coming back to the keep to work for the hoods anyway.

He looked to the woman’s dad, the boy’s words making little sense, but he assumed ‘LARPing’ involved something to do with Samael. This must be a cover. He went along with it, “Yeah, our master was happy with the larping we did, I’m sure you’ll be hearing all about it. It’s an honour to meet you sir.”

---

Violet's dad, bless his soul, seemed mostly unfazed. He shot Violet a glance, full of mirth, before rising to his full six foot four height. At one time, he had been a star center on the football team. Now, though, his belly had rounded and his body had grown soft.

Taking a few steps forward, he extended his hand toward the shorter boy, Aiden, in greeting. "LARPing, huh? Didn't know Violet was into that, but to each their own..." His face crinkled merrily, and he let loose a gravelly chuckle.

"Guess I'm just lucky to meet you, Violet never brings her friends around." He raised a brow, directing his gaze to her.

Violet didn't move, her gaze lingering on the knives in Colin's hand. His grip had tightened. Was he going to attack them? She'd beat him to death with her bare hands before he ever touched her father.

"Hey, dude, you wanna grab that food we were talking about?" She gestured toward the kitchen a bit forcibly.

Her father turned to Colin, pursing his lips slightly. "I didn't catch your name...I'm Leo. Short for--"

"Short for Leopaul, but my friends call me Lee, or Paul. You're not my friend yet, yada yada." Violet finished, sticking her tongue out at her father for a bit of normalcy. "He gets it, we're gonna get some food."

Another gesture toward the kitchen, and she began striding over to it.

---

”Well, so far, so good,” Lumen commented, as the creature followed Aiden’s steps. ”Even the traveler has managed to stay in character.., that does surprise me.” With an obsidian gaze lingering on this man, by the name of Colin, which was yet to be known, Lumen maintained surveillance. This stranger, he was quite filthy, which was a conclusion previously drawn, but now fully realized. ”And who, pray tell, will teach this creature to use the shower?”

At Lumen’s words, Aiden halted his stride with an abrupt stop. For a brief moment, he turned towards Colin, eyeing the weathered, worn man, before quickly padding to the kitchen. ”He might need a..,” Aiden whispered, narrowing his statement at Violet once the boy passed her, ”shower.”

Clearly more humble than what Aiden saw on a daily basis, the woman’s kitchen was a reflection of her small home. Where some would perhaps consider the venue lacking, Aiden was not above calling it quaint. ”Maybe you should.., clean up, before eating, big bro?” The boy presented, now aiming his words at the time-traveler with nothing between them. ”Cause’ uhm.., you kinda’ fucking stink.”

Unable to stifle a string of laughter, Lumen’s hand moved to slap Aiden’s shoulder. ”Savage.”

---

Like fuck was Colin giving one of Samael’s inner circle his name - who knew what kinds of dark magics he could do with that? He’d hung round Brighid long enough to know the power a name could have. He scowled at Leopold, before following ‘Violet’ towards the food.

The boy’s suggestion stopped him in his tracks. Briefly, he glanced down at his feet, skin pale with cold and damp peeking through the holes in his socks, faint but definitely present tracks following behind him. Clean would be good.

His stomach growled. Until now, it’d been lulled into silence by inactivity, but now food was right there, or so Violet said…

Colin grimaced, “Can we not… eat first… maybe?”

---

Violet shrugged at the man's words, continuing to walk. He was being a douche to her father, of all people, and now he was begging her for food? She could've left him on the streets to dig through garbage. Time-travelling conspiracy or not, he needed to be humble.

Upon making it into the kitchen, she turned to him with a grimace. "I dunno, can we 'eat first maybe'?" She mocked his desperate tone, planting her hands on her hips.

"Maybe, and this is just a suggestion, we can stop being dicks to the people who help us." God, was she looking to get stabbed? She really needed to check herself...but so did he. Sucking in a sharp breath, she released it in a sigh.

"Look, I'm trying to be civil, and you can't even put down the daggers? Are you just gonna threaten me until I help you?"

Violet's dad, meanwhile, took his place back on the couch. He wasn't going to leave until he had the one-on-one confrontation he had promised his wife. But, he wasn't going to be irritating either. Violet had never liked him butting into her conversations, so he'd simply...wait. And listen. Maybe then he'd be able to figure out the asshat's name.

---

”I like this girl, she’s assertive, and her father was lovely. It is a shame I cannot interact with the man, he would surely have been pleasant company.” Lumen exhaled a soft sigh. It was not always an easy prospect, being tied to Aiden and locked away from the world. However, their relationship, while uniquely complicated, was a shared endeavor.

”To be fair, we are already helping him,” Aiden offered, his eyes curiously scanning the area for what presented itself. The kitchen in his parents’ mansion, while enormous, was sterile. Everything was sleek, every surface spotless, and one would be forgiven for mistaking the scene an elaborate picture, in the cover of a magazine. However, Aiden’s immediate surrounding sang a different tune entirely. This was a home where people actually lived.., in unison.

A home. Yes, did Aiden ever truly have one? The saying ‘Home is what you fight for’, would very much have left him at a disadvantage. ”He won’t hurt you.” The boy spoke, his dark eyes moving to glare at Colin. ”Arrogance will only take a man so far.”

A small, innocent teenager, indeed, but none could deny Aiden’s cold gaze. A ‘resting bitch face’, as it was, surely helped in that regard. ”But.., if it means anything, Violet,” Aiden continued, pausing in his words for a brief moment, before continuing. ”Your dad’s.., really cool. I wish me and my dad were as..,” another pause lingered. Clenching his teeth, the Angel shifted a melancholy gaze towards the living room. His statement would have rang true, if it echoed the fact that Aiden wished for a father, in the first place. ”Getting dinner ready will take time. You can clean up while we wait.” Cutting his utterance short, in lieu of their previous conversion with Colin, Aiden proceeded where they had left off.

---

Colin bristled.

Yeah, he was being a dick, and yeah, Andi probably [/i]would[/i] have boxed him round the ears if she saw the way he was behaving, but he was currently trapped in a confined space with three possible servants to Samael. ‘Manners’ went out the window the second Samael decided to destroy humanity (Or whatever the fuck his end goal was. Colin didn’t know. Or care to find out).

Still. He wasn’t sure about the woman yet, if he was right about her dad, there was still a chance she could be won over. A potential ally wasn’t something he should turn his nose up at, especially if it meant she didn’t have to die. The boy he was less sure about. He wasn’t a vampire, in fact, he’d accused Colin of being a vampire, and upon realising that he was human, he’d quickly sheathed his blade, which… didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

None of this did. Which was why he had to find Samael and get back as soon as he could. And for that… fuck.

He didn’t want to be defenseless, made his skin crawl, but if that’s what it took to get the woman to help?

“Fine." he exhaled through clenched teeth, before bending down, slotting the knives into the sheethes at either ankle. He straightened, and showed the pair his empty hands, “Happy? If you fucking murder me now I’m gonna be mad.”

---

"Thanks, er...Aiden. I gotta admit he's a lot better than my mom." Violet chuckled, shaking her head slightly. This Aiden kid was quite nice, and normal...ish. She could imagine herself getting along with him in a less forced setting.

Turning her attention back to the nameless hobo, she commented, "Very," She felt as if she had just stepped off a ledge, though she was still far from the warm embrace of safety.

"And, just a friendly reminder, we're not trying to kill you." If he were her friend, she would have punched him playfully in the shoulder. That seemed like the absolute worst idea with him, though.

Turning to her cabinets, Violet threw them open, clicking her tongue as she looked for something that a time traveller might enjoy. She could make him some real food after he bathed, but he needed something to tide him over. Maybe a...granola bar? That seemed safe enough. She had protein bars and shakes which would really fill him, but those had cost her a shit ton and she was sure she wouldn't be getting a refund.

Decidedly, she pulled out a handful of granola bars, the wrappers crinkling in her hand. With a bit of reluctance, she also reached into another cabinet that contained protein. This would be his gift for putting away the daggers. Moving around the kitchen, she brought out a shaker bottle, filled it with water, and dumped in two scoops of unflavored protein powder. Closing the lid, she passed it off to him.

"Here, shake this, and then drink it." Thinking for a moment, she added, "It's not poison or magic or anything. It's good for you. So are the granola bars. I'll cook something hot for you when you're out of the shower."

Heaving herself up onto the counter with ease, she kicked her legs lazily and stared at the odd pair in front of her. "Bathroom's to your left..." She mumbled. Would the guy know how to work the shower? She'd have Aiden help him.

"So..." Her gaze drifted over to Aiden. The curiosity from earlier was finally beginning to come back, as her heightened sense of anxiety lessened. "You're an Angel...yeah?"

---

Lowering himself to a chair, Aiden gently drummed his fingers against the kitchen table. For the first time since meeting the two individuals now sharing space with the boy, hostilities had slowly faded, and a breath could be spared. Absentmindedly, the Angel’s hand slipped into his pocket, and from its confines, Aiden’s phone came to life. A row of text blanketed its screen, along with occasional pictures, each of which had been taken from a distance. Surveillance, one could call it. ”Yeah,” Aiden responded, raising his attention towards Violet, before leaving his device on the surface in front of him. ”I was looking for a vampire coven, before I ran into you two,” the Angel explained, his chin resting against the flat of a pale hand.

Indeed, now dressed in little more than an unzipped sweater, Aiden’s leather jacket hung from a coat-rack in the hall. It left little to the imagination, and his petite frame was displayed far more evidently. Every finger was a slender digit, his arms lacking in muscle, and his torso flat, every rib making itself known. Of course, there was an adequate explanation as to why this boy maintained such a fragile display.

Illness struck at a young age, and remained with him until Lumen’s embrace finally cured the teenager. However, it was not quite a cure, but rather a transformation. If Lumen by chance was to leave, it would result in Aiden’s immediate death. That fact was, however, mutual. ”I get that it’s difficult to believe,” a small chuckle escaped the boy. ”You probably expected a hunk with golden hair and a chiseled chin,” the Celestial continued. ”I guess it’s a big contrast from the little emo shit you ended up with,” a faint grin bridged its way across Aiden’s thin lips. He was not above making light of his image, and it was often a source of faux ridicule between himself, and Lumen. Acceptance had come to find its place long ago.

”I don’t mean to be disrespectful..,” Aiden spoke, ”but, you’ve already invited us into your home. Taking your food, as well, seems a bit overkill.” A short pause lingered, before dark, obsidian eyes shifted to the Angel’s phone. ”We could order something, if you want. You’d have gained at least something from inviting two weird freaks into your house,” he finished, leaning back in the boy’s chair, as he lamented his stated.

---

Neither of the objects Violet handed to Colin seemed much like food, but he thanked her all the same, doing as she said and shaking the canteen she’d put the powder in. It was made out of the same shiny material as the doors in the bathroom where he’d appeared, and looking round the woman’s house, there seemed to be an abundance of it - all different consistencies, but clearly the same substance. Another of Samael’s developments - like the ‘phone’?

Impossible to know. These two certainly wouldn’t be telling him anytime soon. He stopped shaking the container, and took a peek inside - the powder had dissolved, leaving behind nothing but a liquid that looked a little too much like one of Moonshine’s ‘magical healing tinctures!’ for comfort. Violet had said it wasn’t poisoned. She’d also said he’d travelled three hundred years into the future. Both claims were equally unbelievable, but at the same time, a little voice that sounded a lot like Andi reminded him that it was rude to turn down food offered by your host.

He set the drink aside for a moment and instead looked at the little squares the woman had handed to him. They were encased in the strange material, some sort of wrapping to make transportation easier. He tore the packaging free, revealing some kind of oaty square - a flapjack, just packaged in Samael’s weird creation. They had flapjacks with the hoods, especially when they were going to be travelling long distances, and Colin couldn’t help the relieved smile that came with the wash of familiarity. He took a bite, and then another, and then more until the whole bar was gone within a matter seconds.

Fuck. It felt good to not be hungry. He looked up, about to thank Violet again, and caught the tail end of what the boy, Aiden, was saying about money. Right. Shit.

The keep provided accommodation and food for the most part, but the hoods still paid a not insignificant wage to both their recruits and the fully fledged reds. Colin didn’t drink like most of the order, and the one time he’d tried to send money home to Andi she’d sent it right back along with a strongly worded note he’d had to beg Brighid to read out to him. He’d never had a lot of money, but he knew, distantly, what it was like to be stuck in a big city without any, so he’d taken to carrying a reasonable amount with him on missions, just in case.

He padded back across the carpet to where he left his boots, lifting up the worn sole of the left one and fishing out a small wad of tattered notes. They were a bit damp, but they’d do. He went back to where Violet and Aiden were, and offered them to her, not meeting her eyes “Err… thanks. I appreciate you not poisoning me. Or at least I’m guessing you didn’t seeing as I’m not dead.” he shrugged, "I dunno how much this is worth to you but I’ve got fuck all else to offer.”

---

"Nah, never been the blonde hunk of meat type. Always thought angels were just good dead people." She wasn't going to tell him that she didn't believe in whatever he was, at least for a time. Her mind had been more open ever since the accident. Besides, vampires, werewolves, witches. They were all real. Why couldn't an angel be?

"Anyways, you're not so bad. A little short though."

Her stomach growled at the thought of pizza, or beef and broccoli, or a cheeseburger. She remembered throwing up everything she had eaten earlier, vividly, but she wasn't aware of how hungry she was until now. Rubbing at her thighs, she nodded at last.

"Eating out sounds good, I'm down with whatever." She wasn't indecisive, she wanted pizza. Opening the floor was the nice thing to do, though.

As the man left, she tensed lightly. Apprehension around him wasn't what she wanted, but it came naturally. Just like breathing. He was a stranger, in the end. Hadn't even trusted them with his name. She let out a small sigh as he returned, watching him reach out. She tried, and failed, to meet his gaze, before scrutinizing what he held.

The currency was damp, and looked very different from the bright colored polymer bank notes they used now. She frowned down at him, reaching out with slender fingers to push away his hand.

"It's okay...keep your money for when you get back to the past, or...uh, wherever you think you were before." A smile worked its way back onto her face.

---

Tapping a pale thumb against the screen of his phone, Aiden moved past the documents he had been repeatedly skimming over. Once these pleasantries came to an end, he had an assignment which required attention. ”I know a good place,” Aiden commented. Indeed, the angel did not eat, and much less did he order food, for himself. However, the boy’s best friend, who was incidentally his butler Charles, had a preferred ‘haunt’, as one might say. The two would often visit the establishment in between meetings, and the drinks mixed together behind their bar were of top quality. Granted, it was quite evident that neither Violet, nor the stranger knew of ‘Fratelli’, as it was a venue for the upper echelon.

”It’s my treat,” Aiden commented, signing into their website with a required account. However, before the boy was able to place an order, he turned his attention towards the shady individual they simply knew as ‘stranger’. He had walked towards the hall, where money was procured from his boots. A disgusting development, to be sure.

Clearing his throat, Aiden attempted to shift his focus elsewhere. ”Uhm.., what would you like?” The Celestial asked, his dark eyes moving to Violet. ”We can just get the same thing for him,” Aiden motioned at Colin. ”I don’t.., eat. So, I won’t be getting anything, except a drink.” By ‘drink’, Aiden was referring to the popular brand Monster Energy, which had warranted some controversy, considering its name in relation to vampires, werewolves, and spellcasters. Of course, the irony of an Angel consuming the beverage was not lost on the boy. Had they gone to the restaurant itself, he would have enjoyed an artfully mixed drink of lemon, strawberry, and fruit. However, such was not a luxury afforded deliverance. ”Would you like me to get something for your dad, Violet? It’d be a shame if he missed out.”

---

Colin’s shoulders slumped a little as Violet turned the money away, and then they fell even further when he noticed Aiden’s hastily disguised look of disgust. Right. He was gross and should clean up. It was important. If he wanted to fit in.

Maybe he should just leave.

He needed Violet’s help to find Samael though. Clearly she was connected… He looked down at the money in his hand, then around at Violet’s accommodations. Everything was clean, warm, dry. Of course she didn’t want his money - it was enough for a meal, maybe a roof over his head for a night, but for someone who worked for Samael, who could afford to keep all his minions this clean... his money was shit to her.

He watched the two interact some more, pouring over another glowing device (that somehow seemed to make food? Colin didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he wanted to), before awkwardly mumbling, “Is it okay if I use your shower?” He shoved the wad of notes back in his pocket, realising he still had them in his (filthy, disgusting, not worth the air in the fucking house lad!) hand, “I… err…. Don’t worry about food for me…” he directed this at Aiden, “I need to go look for Samael. He’s still out there.” this last part was more forceful, because he was, and Colin had to fucking focus.

“That way, did you say?” he motioned to the door Violet had pointed out earlier.

---

Violet's face scrunched, confusion evident in her features. She figured they had been making progress, or something. Maybe she was just confused, but when the guy wasn't talking about Samael he seemed...nice enough? Why was he all upset? She wished he'd respond to their politeness in a way that wasn't: A.) hostile, or B.) saddening.

"Oh, yeah...go ahead." She drummed on the counter with her fingers. "Once you get out, I'll...see what I can do to help."

Tilting her head at Aiden, she thought for a moment, "Any chance they have pizza at this 'good place'?"

---

”Yeah, it’s an Italian place. Pasta and pizza, you know?” Aiden managed a small chuckle, before his eyes lingered on the stranger. For a moment, the Angel fell silent. He had no intention of making their new ‘friend’ uncomfortable, but such inconveniences were difficult to avoid, especially considering how they were still assumed the enemy. ”And yeah, dude, you do need food. As far as I’m concerned, you’re human and hungry,” the Angel frowned. This man was somewhat annoying, indeed, but his stubbornness would get him killed, and not through violence, but rather, hunger.

Making their order, Aiden would eventually send it to the restaurant, and slipped his phone back into the confines of his pocket. ”Do you need help the shower,” the boy asked, followed by a short breath. This was nothing he had signed up for, but things would get even more awkward if the medieval man was showed how to shower, by a woman. An old-fashioned thought, but such was the issue. History was not known for its liberal views on bathing etiquette.

---

---

What was supposed to be a hopeful few hours of peaceful slumber was shattered by the buzzing tone of ring coming from Thane's phone. He eyed the piece of technology with hatred as his head felt like it was being smashed by a brick. Growling at the device contemplating if it would be worth throwing the bloody item out the window. He decided not to destroy the cursed object after contemplating that the effort to replace it would be far more irritating. He eyed the device until it finally ended it's horrible noise, and sat up only when his head didn't feel like it was going to explode. He did plan to sleep more but up now, he would have to answer at least one of the more peculiar urges that came from sharing with a beast of the night. Being a werewolf didn't always mean an insatiable craving for meat, the wolf within could have other interests, oddly for Thane that interest was watermelon which he had to keep at hand during these nights of having one to many drinks in the fight pits.

"It's coming, it's coming," he mumbled to himself feeling an odd pressure behind his eye, usually meaning the wolf was restless and wanted something. Thane had learned the hard way of ignoring the beast when he woke the following morning to find a rather nice couch nothing more then stuffing spread across the apartment that he still could find to this day along with a rather unwelcome gift. So it was better for him to suffer the short yet long walk to the fridge while his head pounded.

Once managing to remain standing and opening the fridge to find the frozen fruit, he sliced it up before eating it, a growl rumbling in his chest signifying the satisfaction of the beast."Weird bloody beast you are. Doubt many think that maybe giving the wolf a damn watermelon will calm you down," Thane grumbled while sitting on his couch, the bed feeling to far to return to so he choose then next best thing to sleep on without having to worry for his phone to bother him with more vile ringing and buzzing. Once the beast was calmed did Thane manage to find sleep again, whatever good it would do for him in the next few hours.

---

Violet plucked at the pieces of lint on the couch, scraping her nails along the surface to draw up more small, grey fluff. She was on edge, because the shower had been off for at least ten minutes now. Unless the stranger was busy using up her expensive skincare and scar cream, he'd be out any minute.

And that meant she'd have to perform.

She glanced over at her father, who was hard at work playing the gem matching game on his phone. She didn't want him to be there when she made her attempt.

"Hey, dad?

He glanced up, setting his phone down in his lap. "Mm?"

"Don't wanna send you off before the pizza gets here, but..." Her eyes said what she couldn't.

"Ah. Better get home before your mom thinks I ran off, too." His words were pointed, but gentle, and he couldn't contain a laugh. He supposed the interrogation could wait, it had been almost an hour and the pair of brother's didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon.

Getting up, he stretched, multiple bones cracking. With a prolonged grunt, he strode towards the door and grabbed his coat. Giving Violet and her friend a small wave, he stepped out into the hall and started toward the parking lot.

Releasing a heavy breath, Violet eased further back into the couch. "What do you think the guy's name is? I'm banking on Keith."

---

Aiden on a sofa was almost endearing. Where the boy sat, his arms wrapped around his legs and eyes fixed on the television, Aiden rested his chin against a pair of small kneecaps. Balled up as he was, the Angel nearly vanished into an otherwise cozy and lived-in background. ”He keeps talking about a ‘Samael’,” Aiden commented, the bored expression on his face a constant, rather than an active choice.

He was often told to smile more, a counter to the display generally provided, and so he did, when presenting himself to others. However, there was no longer a need to do so, with Leo’s departure. ”This guy’s name is probably something weird, like ‘Lancelot’,” Aiden noted. ”Also uhm.., sorry,” the Celestial continued, a hand rising to scratch the boy’s neck. ”I get that all of this is pretty fucked up. It’s.., weird for me, too.”

---

"Lancelot...huh." She mulled it over, testing it. It really didn't fit. Keith was a much better option, in her mind.

As Aiden apologized, Violet's face grew slightly sour. "It's nothing to be sorry over. This got thrown on you as much as it was thrown on me."

"You were even doing something important...I was just, pouting." She shrugged, going back to picking at lint.

---

Unable to stifle the quiet chuckle making its way past his lips, Aiden slowly released the embrace around his legs, lowering the slender limbs to a carpeted floor. ”You were vomiting,” the boy commented, ”was that related to your uh.., pouting?” Aiden finished, a faint grin bridging itself across his face. Violet appeared to have found herself on the tail end of a very disappointing situation. ”Is it safe to say..,” Aiden spoke, ”that your night got better?” The Angel laughed, seeing some irony in the development.

---

Violet shook with a low laugh. She didn't want to say more about her pouting, so she ignored that question. "I guess you could say that." She couldn't believe she was admitting it, really. Aiden was a cool guy, though. Even if they never spoke again after that night, she'd still be quite happy knowing she had met him.

---

After a momentary panic at seeing his clothes gone, Colin eventually emerged from the shower wearing a jumper with a hood and writing he didn’t understand scrawled across the front, as well as a pair of black baggy pants, both made out of a material that was soft and confusing in equal measures. At some point, he’d lost the tie he usually used to keep his hair out of his face, so it hung in rats tails, seeping through to his shoulders. Round the corner, he spied Violet and Aiden, sitting, talking, likely planning how they were going to lure him out into the waiting trap.

(not the future, not the future, not the future, not the-)

His jaw tensed, and aching muscles he hadn’t noticed relaxing stiffened right back up. For a moment, he’d let his guard down. Stupid.

Bare feet on the carpet, he made his way toward the two. He was interrupting something. Probably plotting how they were going to contact Samael. Except Violet said she’d help. He had to count on that, that was the whole point of this.

He spoke up, “You said you could help me find Samael.”

---

Violet would've made a joke, told the guy he was looking good in the hoodie with Virginity Rocks embroidered across the front, but apparently there wasn't any time. This guy really was in a rush.

It was all business from here on out.

"Yeah...alright. Come sit down and I'll get to it." She looked to the sky, sending a quick prayer to whoever was watching over her. Didn't the mages have someone they usually prayed to? Would that even help in her case?

---

Ready to offer the man a response, Aiden found himself promptly halted by a knock on the door. The food had arrived. He reluctantly pulled himself away from the couch which had granted comfort. Indeed, time had passed since Aiden last enjoyed a pause of relaxation. However, considering the circumstances, such would not last. Excluding the traveler, Aiden was still bound to a mission which required attention, sooner, rather than later.

With a small hand pulling the front door open, Aiden was met by an elderly man. “Mr. Connors?” There was surprise trickling from the question, and an onlooker would have been able to deduce that whoever stood beyond the threshold, knew the boy.

”Hello, Mr. Russo,” Aiden offered, ”visiting a friend,” he thumbed over his shoulder at a newly showered time-hobo, and Violet.

“Well, enjoy your night, Mr. Connors, and best wishes to Mr. Pennyworth,” the delivery man continued, referring to Charles, Aiden’s butler.

”I will most certainly forward your regards, Mr. Russo,” the Angel finished, accepting a large pizza which was offered, along with a small bag of clinking, and clanging aluminum bottles. A quick farewell would then promptly end the scene, and Aiden closed the door, turning his attention to the others, with a small, awkward smile on his face. ”We.., know each other.”

The pizza soon found itself on the coffee table, and Aiden shifted his focus to four succulent energy drinks in his bag, producing a bright pink bottle. ”Eat first, Samael later.”

---

The food, whatever it was, smelled [/i]good[/i], overpowering the steamy floral scent that had briefly followed Colin from the shower. His stomach made itself known again - a gnawing ache that seemed to travel all the way to his fingertips.

Colin watched as the man at the door and Aiden talked, and then the man handed over the food, confused. He thought they were getting food out of the glowing device? Or was that just another communication device? Was the man at the door an assassin - someone they’d called in as backup? Maybe… maybe he should ask?

Still watching the pair closely, Colin took a seat as far away from them as he could get, half an eye on the door, back not touching the sofa cushion. He scratched at the scar on his arm - half nervous habit, half attempt to relieve the itch. It tended to do that from time to time, the flesh turning bright red and sensitive. Slowly, deliberately, he forced his hands back to his sides before asking, “Who was that man at the door?”

---

Violet watched as he scratched, and scratched, tearing away at the skin beneath his hoodie with a vengeance. It made her own scars itch, and she writhed uncomfortably, digging her fingers into the cushions to prevent herself from dealing with her own ache. They burned, just like they did when she was still wrapped in bandages.

What kind of scar was he hiding?

His hands fled, but Violet was still staring. It wasn't until his voice broke through to her that she wrenched her eyes away.

"Huh? The delivery guy?" Her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be. She cleared her throat, blinking away the prickling sensation.

"In this time, we pay people to bring us food." Not something she did often, especially on her usual, strict diet.

Leaning forward, she opened the pizza box, before laying eyes on the most elegant pizza she had ever seen. It looked heavenly, and without a second thought she reached for a slice.

Only to hear a heavy whimpering beside her.

Turning slowly, she found herself face to face with Apollo. He darted forward, opening his mouth and licking Violet's face. A yip, and he retreated to his former position.

Violet sat with wide eyes. She had almost forgotten him with everything that was going on. Seemed like he had forgotten her, too, until good food was involved. "Heya, buddy!" Violet cooed, reaching out to pet him.

Apollo backed up, barking at her before leaning forward and licking her hand.

Violet sighed, he was always like this. Couldn't choose what he wanted. Reluctantly, Violet put her hand down and watched as he pranced closer, eyes focused on the pizza.

---

A bright smile intruded on Aiden’s features the moment he heard paws rapidly padding against the carpeted floor. A dog. He would often claim that his favorite people were animals, and Aiden made sure to offer monthly donations to shelters. It was a passion of his, one could say, and the boy’s love for critters such as this reached no limit. ”Well, hello there.” Aiden spoke, lowering himself to his knees as a small hand extended to gently feel a blanket of fur against his digits.

”What a beautiful creature!” Lumen exclaimed, echoing Aiden’s response, with delight. The Spirit circled his Angelic partner, and managed a better view of the new arrival. ”There was a ‘no animals sign’ downstairs, Aiden.” Lumen continued, a faint frown revealing itself on the Spirit’s visage. ”I hope he doesn’t bark.”

Moving a dainty hand towards the canine’s ears, Aiden spared no expense in offering the creature comfort. ”If I had known, I would have ordered your own pizza, buddy..,” the boy spoke. With a genuinely upset expression making itself known, it was clear that Aiden was being serious. He had been more than willing to buy the dog a meal. He then, however, turned his attention back to Violet. ”This is risky, Violet,” the Angel commented, his soft voice now quiet, and somewhat melancholy.

---

Colin watched Violet take a slice of the dough-circle using just her hand, finger food then. He followed suit, picking up a piece, biting into it,and… immediately wincing. Holy fuck that was piping hot! Were they trying to- no, Violet had taken a slice for herself after all.

He chewed, swallowed. Watched as a large dog bound into the room, begging for food. Colin couldn’t help the slight smile that crept in watching Aiden apologise to it like it was a human.

They seemed… trustworthy. But Colin had thought that about people before. He remembered the mission with the doppelgangers, more specifically, Lucy. She hadn’t been his first kiss, but she’d been his first real one, then she betrayed them all. And he hadn’t noticed because she was nice to him.

Kiri. He thought he could trust her, too. Had even gone to her for help back home, and how had that ended? Red melting the snow, and a ring of bruises around Colin’s neck.

One act of kindness didn’t mean he could trust these people.

He took another bite of the slice, it’d cooled slightly, and watched the dog for a moment. He hadn’t seen one quite like it before, so, curiosity getting the better of him, he asked “What kind of dog is that?”

---

Apollo had been seemingly wary about Aiden's presence, his flewies retracting to reveal a row of cream-colored teeth, canines glistening. Violet had been prepared to reprimand him, when the angel turned his attention to her and Apollo pressed his head against Aiden's hand, whining for his attention.

God, that dog would be the death of her.

Considering Aiden for a moment, Violet shrugged. "The landlord's a softy," At least, he was, most of the time. "Besides, I can't just throw Apollo out. He's too cute, aren't you, Apollo?" She made a kissy face at the dog, who ignored her in favor of pressing his wet nose against Aiden's hand, nostrils flaring as he smelled him.

"He's a german shepherd," She remarked, turning to face 'Keith'. "I'm in the process of getting him registered as an emotional support animal, so he'll be fine as soon as the papers come in."

Even though he was an emotional wreck, Apollo made her feel better...most of the time.

Taking a bite out of the pizza, Violet sucked in a breath to cool it down on her tongue. It was really good, if she could get past it burning her tastebuds. "Thanks for the food, Aiden." She was looking forward to keeping the leftovers, if there were any.

Apollo had figured out that he was out of luck when it came to begging from Violet, and this Aiden kid didn't have any food in hand. Cautiously approaching his third option, he rested his head in Colin's lap, staring solely at the pizza that was going toward his mouth.

---

”Are you going to be a rich kid and buy the apartment complex, to remove the animal rule?” Lumen chuckled, the Spirit’s lips close to Aiden’s ear as he continued to whisper, a teasing tune circling the words. ”I know you want to..,” the Spirit finished, before Aiden cleared his throat, in turn.

”I’ve been meaning to get a dog from a shelter, but I’m never home,” the boy sighed, and rose to a standing position. Donations were good, and they would remain. Though, having an animal in their lives was something Aiden and Lumen had discussed often. Every single time, however, it ended with the same results. The Angel was rarely ever at home. He was either working, or hunting monsters, both of which kept him far away from the alleged dog he wanted to help.

Stepping towards the living room window, Aiden took another sip of his drink, a reflection staring back at him. The same sick kid who lived in the mirror, always peering at the now healthy young man who maintained the same image. ”And, you’re welcome,” Aiden offered, revealing a small smile, as he did.

Though pleasantries were currently abundant, an overlaying sense of tension remained. ‘Keith’ did not trust them, and Aiden was unsure if he could leave Violet alone with the stranger. He would have to, eventually. ”If you want help in finding Samael,” the Angel began, turning towards the traveler, as he proceeded to lean back, feeling a hard wall against his scrawny shape, ”we need to know what we’re looking for, right?” With eyes narrowed at the man, Aiden paused for a moment, lamenting the thought, and then continued. They would get nowhere if information was stunted. ”You need to start understanding that we don’t work for your enemy, and we don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Taking another sip of his drink, Aiden exhaled a long sigh. This was the first time he had ever interacted with anyone else in this regard. He was supposed to have a secret identity but that was essentially tossed aside, considering the odd circumstances. ”I should be out there, right now,” he confessed. ”Though, if this ‘Samael’ is as dangerous as you think he is, I guess it can’t be helped.” Indeed it could not. Aiden hunted monsters, and disregarding recent insanity, this could very well fall into his ballpark. ”If your response to what I’m about to say is the same as before,” Aiden motioned towards the front door, ”I’m leaving.” Moving his slender fingers back to the chilled aluminum can in his hands, the boy approached ‘Keith’. ”I am currently on a mission to stop a group of vampires from summoning a demon, do you understand? I don’t have time for your paranoia, so either work with us, or I’m out.”

---

A warm weight on Colin’s knee - Apollo the ‘German Shepherd’ had plopped his head there and was looking up at him with big doey eyes. His first instinct was to flinch away, Apollo’s teeth were big, his body clearly muscular, even if he hadn’t shown aggression thus far, he was capable of it. It felt… nice though. The only dogs Colin was familiar with were the hunting dogs from back home - wiry animals that could get you a rabbit for tea in the time it took you to blink. Effective? Very. Likely to put their head in your lap and beg for food? Less so.

Tentative, he reached up and scratched Apollo behind the ears. Then, remembering how the hunting dogs would sometimes chase stuff just for fun. he broke a chunk of crust off the ‘pizza’ and threw it across the room for Apollo to run after.

At the mention of Samael, Colin looked toward Aiden. There was determination in his eyes, or at least, purpose. Angel or not, he knew Aiden was a warrior of some kind, but this proved it more than any disappearing sword ever could. He didn’t trust him, didn’t want to, anyway. But the truth, whether he wanted to look it in the eye or not, was that Colin didn’t stand a fucking chance on his own against Samael, and he wasn’t about to let the world get destroyed because he was too much of a fucking coward to recognise the only help he was gonna get.

Again, his right hand started to creep towards his left, but he caught it in time, “You said that this is the future. I don’t... “ grit teeth, fingers clenched to fists, “I can’t believe that. Wherever it is though,” probably best to leave out that he thought it was Samael’s lair, “it’s in danger. You’re going after vampires?” He directed this at Aiden, “The Red Hoods, the organisation I was- am with took down vampires in their sleep,” or at least that’s what they told everyone. In reality, vampires didn’t pay enough, “Samael is bigger than all that shit. We… we got him to run. We tracked him and his armies of undead for months, and eventually we cornered him. We had all of us, our whole order, even the Commander herself, and when it came down to it, he cut through us like butter.”

The battle was still fresh. Red and grey and brown. A ripple of Eliza’s fire, a glimmer of Brighid’s healing magic, Kiri…. If he poked too hard at it, he knew he’d only make it bleed, so he didn’t.

“And now he’s here.” he realised he’d been staring a hole in Violet’s beige carpet, he forced his gaze back up, “Samael is a threat to this whole fucking reality, he already sent his fucking vampire lackey after me - and far as I know there’s not anyone else out there trying to stop him.” The admission was a betrayal, burned like it too, “So yeah. I’m fucking paranoid. If you help’s up to you I guess. I can leave now if you want,” he glanced at Violet as he said that, “Just don’t expect me to be a fucking open book with a pair of strangers I met half an hour ago, kind as you are, a bloody flapjack’s not something I’d stake the fate of the whole fucking world on, would you?”

With that, he stood, ready to leave if that’s what they wanted. He could do this on his own. If he had to. Fuck.

---

Violet groaned, burying her head in her hands. Confrontation was ass, complete and utter garbage. She hated it, even though her therapist said it was a necessary evil. It would hurt her at times, heal her overall. She didn't believe any of that bullshit. She hated that office, with its beige walls and the abstract paintings in a myriad of colors.

Hated her therapist, and his wire-rim glasses, his thinning hair. His understanding tone, his ability to pull the past into focus. It was all so overwhelming. She had cancelled her next appointment. Her mother didn't know yet.

She hated this. The fact that she had invited this crazy man and an Angel into her home. The fact that they both had problems, more pressing than her own.

How could she make a decision when she couldn't even challenge her mother? Couldn't even face her brother, in the same way he hadn't been able to face her?

Breathe. She hadn't been breathing.

Sucking in air, she feigned a yawn. "Do what you need to do." She paused, glancing between the two before focusing on the stranger. "You shouldn't do it all alone, though, you'll die. I...just...ya know."

'Can't help you, because I'm a fucking wuss.'

---

It was not unexpected that Violet wished to avoid conflict. She was a normal girl caught in an insane situation. Three years prior, before Lumen bonded with Aiden, the boy would have echoed her sentiment. Indeed, he was ill, barely able to leave the home, but the principle remained. Sick or healthy, the weight of an entire world was a daunting prospect for anyone, more so a civilian, who expected her night to be like any other. ”That’s fair, you don’t trust two strangers you just met,” Aiden commented, his eyes lingering on the time-traveling warrior. ”I am going to be making assumptions, but when we met you, the wounds, the dirt, the fatigue.., you were in a battle, weren’t you?” There was a short bout of silence between the three of them, but Aiden eventually continued, speaking based on observation. ”You were fighting, and then.., you ended up here. You said someone else went through a portal before you did. A..,” the Angel narrowed his eyes, ”friend..,” he finished, uttering the word much like Colin had, previously.

”We’re putting aside the childishness, now,” Aiden stated. There was no anger or frustration in his voice, however. ”It’s as difficult for us to believe in your story, as it is for you to believe in us.., ‘Keith’,” the Angel spoke, and motioned towards Violet as she had made herself heard. ”Though, I believe that.., you believe.., what you’re saying.”

Aiden reached for a pen on the coffee table, and proceed to scribble down a string of numbers on the notepad which had been left unused in front of Violet’s father, Leopold. ”I am sorry that you got involved in any of this, Violet. You’re an ordinary person, with a normal life. I guess.., I’m leaving my number, in case you need it. Honestly, it’s been nice to just.., be myself around someone, for once. Ironically, it’s when I’m pretending to be someone else,” a quiet chuckle escaped the boy’s lips.

He had often considered the notion. Was this truly someone else? Was he Aiden Connors, a billionaire shareholder of Infinity Enterprises, or was he Aiden the Angel? Lumen had told him that they were, in fact, Seraphs, angelic knights. Yes, perhaps that was Aiden’s true identity, and the businessman a mere mask.

”You think the safe route is to not trust us,” the Angel turned his attention back to the stranger whose name was yet to be revealed. ”Isn’t it the other way around? Samael threatens the world, you say. If he’s here, you should be gathering an army, not running around on your own, thinking that you can make a dent in someone as powerful as you claim.” Holding out his arms, motioning at their surroundings, the Angel continued to speak. ”I’ve been doing this for three years, you might have been doing it for twice that long, with your.., ‘Red Hoods’, but without them, you seem lost.”

Lowering his arms, Aiden let them rest at his sides. ”You and I know that the moment you walk out that door, you’re alone. You won’t be able to tell left from right, you won’t understand a single thing you see, and every second you want to spend on finding Samael will be spent in confusion, and fear.” He proceeded to take a small breath. Colin had been stubborn, but at the very least, the Angel hoped that he was willing to take at least this as fact.

”No matter how little time you think you have left, you need a plan. Step one, locate your friends.” Aiden held up a finger, followed by a second.

”Step two, gather them,” he raised a third, ”and step three, pick up where you left off. Running into the unknown, armed with nothing but your anger, and frustration, will serve only one purpose. It will make Samael’s job easier.”

---

Colin clenched and unclenched his fists.

Everything Aiden said made sense. Of course it fucking did. He couldn’t take Samael on his own, not really, and there wasn’t a chance in hell of him walking out that door and having even the slightest clue what to do to find Samael. And without the Hoods? Even shielded by the most capable members of the order, Colin was lacking. On his own?

Always were a coward lad-

He was nothing.

He exhaled, a harsh puff of air, “There was a battle. With Samael.” He said, tone clipped more out of deliberation than anything else, “We had him cornered. He opened a portal to escape. My-” he should stop calling her his friend, she wasn’t, not anymore, “Another hood jumped through after him. I followed her. No one else did that I know, they were pretty hurt-” Brighid’s red fur stained brown with mud, Eliza’s full weight, slamming into him- “and I’m pretty fucking sure the other hood that jumped through’s a traitor.”

If Colin wasn’t a coward, he’d look Aiden in the eye, beg him to help. Do anything to save the world, because that’s what it needed. He was a coward though, so instead he stared at the floor, doing his best to pretend like the last dregs of adrenaline weren’t slipping away already, “You’re right that I need a better plan than chasing after wherever Samael’s gone on my own. But it’s the best one I’ve got right now. There’s not…” his chest corkscrewed and he gave up trying not to scratch his arm, let his nails sink crescent moons into the scar, “There’s not a fucking soul out there that’ll help me so. I need to be fast if I even stand a chance.”

---

What could Violet say to that? If she sent him off all alone, the guilt would eat her alive. If she offered to help him, she'd be committing herself to something she knew nothing about. He could turn around and kill her at any moment.

She thought back to the day of the accident, how she had been arguing with Vince over nothing in particular. How they had been driving a road they could travel in their sleep, and had suddenly slammed into something. She could've lost it all in that moment, but she hadn't.

If she believed in fate, or destiny, she would've been convinced it was because she was meant for something great. Perhaps this very moment was the start of her destined adventure.

But...she didn't. All she knew was that she was lucky enough to live, but unlucky enough to come out of it covered in scars. With powers she didn't understand, that she couldn't control.

If she just let this guy leave, she could return to normalcy. This would just be a faint memory ten years from now. If the world didn't get blown to pieces by the Samael guy, of course. With every passing moment, she was diving deeper into this conspiracy.

"Uh...well, there are people out there, who would...help." People like Aiden, she supposed. "And I--" She was going to regret this, wasn't she? "--will help you find them. I will help you, if you just calm down long enough to let yourself be helped."

---

”These are two souls willing to help you.” ‘Keith’ was by no means alone. The Angel would be standing at the warrior’s side in a time of need, that much was certain. Additionally, if what this man said was true, Aiden’s blade would rise against Samael, irrelevant of external factors.

A threat to Tenebris? There was no question. Samael was an enemy, no matter one’s stance on the time-traveler, or his ‘Red Hoods’. The world had changed, however, and it was no longer what Colin remembered. In fact, Aiden was skeptical towards the situation because of these differences. Samael would have to change his approach drastically, if he aimed to conquer a modern world. He now faced an entirely new opposition. A stronger opposition.

”A few things you should consider,” Aiden spoke, and approached his jacket. ”This is a new battlefield, not only for you, but for Samael as well.” The Angel drank from his beverage, and started to slip into his outer garments. ”He’s facing new enemies, and you’re gaining new allies.”

The boy’s slender fingers gently tapped against a polished door handle, but he had not yet departed. ”You had him cornered once, didn’t you? Remember that he escaped, not you. You’re the hunter, not the beast. Stand straight, recuperate.., ” Aiden motioned to the pizza, ”eat and rest. Your prey won’t take over the world in a day.”

Twisting the handle, Aiden stopped, recalling an important detail. ”I’ll get you new weapons, and leave them here, with Violet. She can also contact me.” Finally stepping outside, Aiden offered the two a small wave. ”Welcome to your new battlefield.., ‘Keith’.”

---

---

The brewery was an old, decrepit sight. One would be forgiven for mistaking it a structure from Colin’s age, long since forgotten and abandoned by modern times. With a hand placed on the cold surface of a metal crate, Aiden lowered himself to a knee. Large, black eyes scanned the surrounding area, but silence and solitude struck. ”We should be able to sneak inside,” Lumen spoke, raising a finger as he pointed ahead, ”from over there.”

”Are you ready for this?” Aiden paused, turning his attention towards the Celestial Spirit. Again, he could feel his heart beating like a jackhammer against the shape of his ribs. Adequate time had been wasted, and while thoughts of this ‘Samael’ lingered within the recess of Aiden’s mind, there was accompanying regret.

He should have come here, long ago. However, conflicting thoughts were abundant, and present. There was no right decision, not if he intended to maintain a humanity which could slip between his fingers at any moment.

”Are you?” Lumen returned, placing his hand on Aiden’s shoulder. ”Tenebris is our home. Protecting it should be second nature, by now.”

Clenching his teeth, Aiden moved a hand towards his chest, where it remained. Every second, another beat slammed against his palm, a gulp traveling down the boy’s throat. WIth a deep breath, the Angel moved away from where he had been hiding, casting aside any doubts he might have had. Delving into a jog, Aiden soon accelerated his pace into a faster sprint. Weightless steps padded across hard concrete, until finally, the Angelic Warrior found himself face to face with his target destination.

Climbing up a wall-side pipe offered no challenge, and soon, Aiden was able to gaze inside, through the shattered square of a now broken, dirty window. Tensing at the sight, a deep breath managed its way past the Angel’s pale lips. He saw a circle of thirteen women, standing within a ritual symbol painted in what could only have been the sanguine nectar of blood. Indeed, the conclusion was easy to draw, once the gathering of cadavers was noted, within the ring of hellspawn. ”We need to halt that ritual, now!” Lumen exclaimed.

Never before, had Aiden witnessed such a concentrated gathering of death, and gore. Thirteen women stood in a circle, thirteen bodies were piled between them, and chanting could be clearly heard, in a foreign language. One thing was certain, the words were painful. Every tune which left the vampiric sisters’ lips struck at Aiden with a headache. ”It’s Satanic,” the Angel groaned, a hand on his forehead.

”Then we’ll shut them up!” The Spirit shouted, before Aiden leaped down from where he had climbed.

Within an instant, and Angelic boy landed on the hard, cold floor, motivation and a burning desire for justice emanating from his golden heart. However, the young Angel would soon learn that in his attempt to embrace humanity, through help which had been extended to those in need, he had neglected his Celestial duty.

A dark presence was suddenly overwhelming, and every vampiric sister who had stood before him found themselves turned to little more than a white mist. The hellspawn, and the bodies they had procured, alike, were all engulfed in a powerful swirl of darkness perverting and twisting a bright, white color. “Sweet, little Angel..,” came a cold, sinister voice which echoed throughout the abandoned building.

Unable to move, Aiden was frozen to the spot. Fear, it had taken hold, and gone was the resolute desire to strike down those who were to summon this beast in front of him. Indeed, such a wicked word would not do the creature justice, as a beautiful woman soon presented herself, standing in front of the boy. A tall, slender figure clad in white stepped out of the mist which by now had slowly began to fade. “A child of purity,” the woman continued, her pale skin like snow, digits reminiscent of skeletal fingers as she extended a hand. Her empty, black eyes spoke volumes of this Demon’s true nature, where the ghostly beauty otherwise surrounding her was but a facade, hiding what dwelled within. “Yet, two children stand before me, one of flesh, the other of Heaven.” Every word uttered by the ghostly creature left her lips in a soft tune, and yet, they cut like razors.

”You can see me..?” Lumen tried, his eyes widening at the realization.

”Why..,” Aiden gulped, ”why is her presence.., comforting..?” The boy clenched his teeth, a wicked sense of warmth washing over him. It continued, growing all the more powerful as the woman’s bare feet gently brought her closer, each step padding along a cold floor. He had heard stories of Demons with the ability to induce a false sense of security, but until this very moment, he could never confirm that they truly existed.

“Torture, isn’t it?” The woman continued, a small, tender smile bridging across her features. “Will you, Aiden Connors, keep Lumen of the High Heavens shackled to you?” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing on the couple before her. “Is your desire for life now stolen from an Angel so overwhelming..? Would you truly force him to your side, to trick the Reaper out of his due?”

Trembling at her words, Aiden found himself taking a step forward, unbeknownst to the boy himself. He was not consciously moving a muscle, and yet, he was. ”I.., stole his life.”

“You did,” the Demon slowly nodded her head, “would you allow me to free this lover of yours, Aiden Connors? Would you release him from your pact, and let him soar with the wings you have now clipped?”

”He’ll die.., if I..,” Aiden tried, his sight dimming with pearls now trickling down his cheeks.

“I can free him, if you just take my hand. It has been so long, since you last enjoyed a Mother’s embrace..,” she finished, reaching for Aiden’s now slowly outstretched hand.

”He’ll be free..,” the boy whispered, ”I won’t be his prison.” A mere split second followed Aiden’s utterance, and he felt a fist connecting with his face, which immediately sent him tumbling towards the floor.

”How fucking dare you..?” Appearing between the demonic entity and Aiden, Lumen stood, infuriated. His fist trembling, his eyes wet, the Spirit gazed down at Aiden, before wrapping his fingers around the boy’s collar. ”Free me?” The words were spoken with venom, ”wake the fuck up!” Pulling him back to his feet, Lumen once more punched the boy, sending him tumbling back a second time. ”I am your sword, Aiden Connors!”

Struggling to his feet, the Angel shook his head, as if the boy had been knocked out of a trance. ”My sword..,” Aiden mumbled, eyes adjusting to the sight before him.

”Don’t you dare let go of me! There is only one thing we say.., to freaks like that!” Lumen turned to point at the monstrous woman, her presence unmoving.

”One thing..,” Aiden gulped, his breath heavy, and his heartbeat at maximum. A hand rose to wipe the tears from his eyes, and with a scream, the Angel called forth his sword. In a brilliant burst of blindingly white fractals, Lumen vanished, taking the shape he had proclaimed, in Aiden’s resolute grip. With his voice twisting into an entwined combination between his own vocals and Lumen’s Heavenly strings, there was indeed only one phrase which fit. ”Fuck You!”

Charging forth, Aiden raised his sword and swung the weapon in a vicious arc, Celestial white following the motion, as if a judgement in itself. For a brief moment, he thought the Demon vanquished, but soon saw her appearing further away. “This is a wonderful development,” she stated, “an Angel and his human, entwined as one.” The horror continued, “allow me to leave you with parting words,” the demon spoke, her shape fading into the air as if sand in a breeze. “We will meet again, for I shan’t abandon..,” her voice lingered, following the disappearance of the woman’s frame, “something so precious..”

---

---

---

Brighid washed up as best she could in the sinks and used the clothes that Kathryn gave her to dry off. When she received the shiny blanket she wrapped herself in it. It covered her decently. She thought of the outfits that she'd seen Nyssa wear and smiled.

Turning to Kathryn she asked what was on her mind. "Is your station far and do you have a courier that I can report Samael's escape to the Red Hoods? Apparently the spell he used sent me far from my fellow Hoods and they might think I'm dead. You said something about clothes I could borrow as well. I think that's a good start."

Kathryn stared at the woman blankly, mindlessly collecting her now-ruined work shirts from her. The vest was in the best shape, though that it was obviously damp, kind of muddy, and possessing a suspicious stain or two, that wasn’t saying much. But it was better than just going into the city proper only in her bra - it wasn’t as if she could on Jennings to lend her a shirt or something, though he’d very obviously disapproved of her state of undress - so she put the dark blue padded vest on, and rolled the shirt and undershirt together into a ball, using the long sleeves of the former to tie them together.

“We can get to the station soon. You’ll have to tell us more about this Samael person and whatever organization the so-called Red Hoods is once we get there,” she replied, mind still reeling that the woman had seriously said something so crazy without batting an eyelash. A courier? The fuck is up with that? And she’s talking as if I should know who the fuck she means with those names...Is this some kind of a ‘Oh, I’m actually from an alternate dimension’ situation or what? Jesus, where is a magical expert when you need one.

“Now, I get the feeling some of the things you will see may surprise you…” Kathryn muttered, trailing off as she wasn’t sure how to continue or what kind of an explanation she could even provide when they were apparently working on an entirely different knowledge base of what the world was like. I swear if she just turns out to be some wacky lunatic cultist… But there was something about the female, perhaps her proper diction, or the tone full of conviction but not to the point of being ravingly obsessed, that gave the vampire the impression that O’Shay was not insane. “Just bear with it for now,” she advised, as Jennings and she began the walk back to their police car.

There was nothing gradual about the transition from the relative seclusion of the nature-esque property and the few buildings it contained (such as the restaurant on the opposite side of the park, or the public toilet they had just been in) to the actual cityscape spanning its surroundings. Any which way one went, they were thrown into the city’s heart, the park but a meagre respite of greenery among the webs of asphalt streets full of cars, towering skyscrapers covered in glittering glass, the somewhat stockier in comparison regular buildings which consisted of shopping malls, eateries, theaters and more, the ubiquitous neon signs, street kiosks scattered here and there, people everywhere - especially the more supernatural of creatures, given that it was night time.

Brighid stopped and stared. There was something on the surface of the black still river. They moved toward it and she watched Jennings open the side of it. She had no idea what it actually was. But putting two and two together she realized that “black still river” was a road. Buildings towered over trees now.

Brighid put a hand to her head. A shaking hand to her head. All of the blood drained from her face as puzzle pieces started to fit together. The differences in smells, sounds, even the feeling of the place was off. “No.”

She heard Samael’s voice in her memory. “I have all the time in the world.” Brighid felt sick and realized she should have kept track of the times she changed. Samael was a fucking time mage. He hadn’t opened a portal to somewhere else it was somewhen else.

Her heart broke as she realized that those that they’d left behind were more than likely dust in crypts. That’s if they weren’t just buried where they lay. This was Duncaster. Where once was a small village hardly anything really, there was now a city. Advancements like this where practically everything was different and unreognizabe took ages.

Brighid choked on a sob. Sadon, Edwin, Loona, Nick, Tholo, Nyssa, Vitius, Ryder, Finlay and Ezekiel all gone. Hot tears poured down her cheeks as she couldn’t hold it in anymore. For all she knew the others had been spat out at random intervals in time. Kiri, Colin, Eliza all could be either dead or right around the corner. That brought on thoughts of Haru, Todd, Riley, Lou, The Whitwings. Again all dead.

Clutching the blanket to herself she collapsed to her knees and sat back on her heels giving in to the grief if only for a moment. Lifting her face she saw the clouds pass across a half moon. The clouds parted and the moon shone on Brighid. 

She had to push on. Had to move forward.

Her tears shone in the moonlight and after a few moments she gathered her wits. Standing she walked over to the contraption that Jennings was holding open. There was a padded bench and she slid into the seat.

Kathryn turned to the woman as she suddenly protested with a no, startled at the desperation with which O’Shay had uttered that single world. Then, she collapsed to her knees, crying quietly. The vampire looked at Jennings with a stunned frown, but the male’s expression clearly told her that he expected her to deal with this. Kathryn approached the weeping female carefully, crouching down next to her. 

“Hey,” she uttered softly, laying a cautious, gentle hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the other woman was aware of her words or touch, but regardless, Kathryn helped her up, keeping the faint physical contact established until they reached the car. Jennings opened the backdoor for Brighid, and she pooled into the seat as if utterly exhausted. Kathryn followed, letting Jennings drive this time. Sitting next to the blanket-covered redhead, gazing at her curiously, she contemplated what could have happened. Late shock onset? Could it be the sudden realization that she’d crossed worlds via the portal - a possibility Kathryn had only recently dared contemplate as well? Only one way to find out.

“What’s the matter, Brighid?” Maybe it was an insensitive, intrusive, too personal of a question, but Kathryn really did want to know what this woman’s story was, what information she could give. 

But, as experience advised, friendly coaxing was the best bet. The fact that she could sympathize with the situation certainly helped. Back when she was turned - which she still remembered all too clearly, the criminal who’d bit her haunting her sleep, the ghost of his presence lurking in every other vampire, even in herself - the world seemed as if it had completely changed in a day, reality inexplicably altered. Though she doubted the scale of her being and awareness shifting was anywhere near as dire as actually being transported into another world; if that is indeed what had happened to O’Shay.

Brighid cleared her throat gently and asked without looking at Kathryn asked the question that she was afraid of. “What year is it? It seems to have slipped my mind.” Brighid’s eyes closed as she swallowed thickly.

“Year?! Are you saying you’re from a different timeline?” Kathryn blurted out, then felt the kind of embarrassment that would have brought a blush to her cheeks if she were still a human, but didn’t alter her appearance beyond the apologetic grimace she let overtake her features. She felt the car swerve lightly, and met Jennings’ wide-eyed look in the rearview mirror, though the pointed look she’d sent him seemed to be message enough for him to concentrate on the road once more. Clearing her throat to get rid of the self-conscious groan that wanted to escape her, the vampire apologized. “Sorry for the outburst. I was just thinking that you were probably from some other world, you know…” she explained, struggling to get her tone back to a polite neutral. “It’s 2019. Are you...from the past then?” Kathryn peered at the fellow passenger with only the slightest hint of scepticism, though her doubt that such a thing was wildly impossible was beginning to dissipate.

Brighid shook with a mixture of laughter and tears. “Yes about three centuries. As impossible as that seems, and believe you me I would know. As the only, not only mage but female that’s been bitten and am now a werewolf you would think that the depths of impossibility would not be beyond my grasp.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “I mean I know that there were born female werewolves but they don’t transform. They have all the pluses without the change. Lucky them.”

“Huh, so you are a werewolf,” Kathryn’s lips quirked up at the corners, faintly pleased that she’d been correct in that assumption as well. “But also a mage, damn, sorry to have to say so, but Meadows is gonna be very suspicious of you,” she grimaced in apology. “Oh hell,” her eyes suddenly widened for a moment as something occurred to her. “Especially since...Shit, you don’t even have a valid ID or anything like it. God-damn,” she sighed, turning to look out of the window.

Several long seconds later, she blinked, aware she’d been deep in thought to consider the problem, but had probably left Brighid to undue worries. Though, honestly, whatever the redhead worried about, it was surely very much warranted. Swinging her head back to her conversation partner, Kathryn offered her fellow passenger a wane smile. “Say, could you tell me more about Samael? You said you had to report his escape…?” Kathryn questioned. It wasn’t exactly per protocol, to ask her about this right now, but the vampire was afraid the matter of the people she’d mentioned would be forgotten when the department was going to be faced with an unknown werewolf, who could be as easily suspected of being a victim as she could a criminal.

Brighid nodded at Kathryn as she was asked to talk more about Samael. "Black Arts practitioner. Necromancy and apparently Time Magic as well. I assume that the Red Hoods no longer exist since you have that lack of recognition. I cannot even fathom how the world has changed. Apparently Vampires and humans at least work together. But I differ, Samael raised an army of ghouls and zombies and the Red Hoods were battling him here 300 years ago. He cast a Time Portal to this time...possibly. I did not see him or the others when that foul thing spat me out. They could have been here for years, months, weeks, days, hours, or minutes. They could be anywhere in the city from the size that this place is.” Brighid indicated that she realized that this was not a small place and her tone became rather hesitant due to the idea of looking for a needle in a haystack comes to mind. A gold colored needle.

“Huh. It would help to know what he looks like, so we have an appearance to go on. If he’s even the type to show himself carelessly…If not that, whatever you could say regarding his personality, goals, motivation, etc. could help too,” Kathryn commented. Just then, Jennings drove the car from a side road to the parking lot in front of Duncaster’s police department building. It was a wide, multilayered red-brick construction, parts of it stretching as far as the 4th floor while others remained at ground level. And though it wasn’t obvious from the outside, Kathryn knew there were several underground holding facilities there as well. The main entrance was a set of well-guarded standard glass double-doors. 

As the police officer duo led Brighid inside, Kathryn chose to chat to her. “Vampires, werewolves, fae, mages, and others can cooperate with humans. Some of us do, as you can see. Still...there are plenty who’d rather rampage around freely, detesting the usual restraints of polite society, as it were,” she said, keeping her tone professional. If they’d been somewhere more private, Kathryn might have chosen to offer a more personal insight, but as it was, Brighid would just be getting the PC version of her thoughts.

“The police, which we are a part of, are sanctioned by the government to upkeep and enforce the law, basically. I’m guessing you didn’t have that kind of an organization back in the 1700s, hm?” the vampire glanced at Brighid, brows raised in an enquiring expression, seeking confirmation or details regarding how it might have been in her time. Admittedly, Kathryn herself wasn’t at all historically well-versed, but she was pretty sure that while policing existed in a more basic form fairly early on, the centralization and modernization of it was likely tied to the industrial revolution. 

“Those, Red Hoods was it? They’d probably be termed a vigilante group nowadays. Not to say that there aren’t groups or people like that out there anymore,” she explained, shrugging at the idea of vigilantes. Her official stance was to denounce such an approach, though personally, she was much more neutral regarding the idea.

Brighid nodded. She had no idea what to say or what more to say to Kathryn. She supposed she'd just wait till they got to the station.

Violet watched as her first line of defense walked out the door, leaving her alone with the crazed man in his Virginity Rocks hoodie. She wondered if he realized what it said, and was just glad to be warm. She was feeling a bit guilty about giving it to him, now.

"So..." She didn't know what to say anymore. Emotions had been leaking out, but now the room felt dry.

"Uh, you still hungry?"

Colin blinked at the question. He hadn't realised Violet was still there, but of course she was, this was her house. He was the intruder.

He looked down at his bare feet squished into her carpet, bristles poking his arches. He glanced back at where he'd left his boots in the corner by the door, skimming over the unfinished pizza on the table, noticed her staring at the jumper he was wearing with a strange look on her face.

She didn't want him here,
"I can leave… get out of your way…" he picked at the hem of the ridiculously soft jumper (How was it not itchy? Warm as wool but soft as cotton…),
"I err… I dunno where my other clothes are… but you can have this back…"

"Well, if you leave, what's your plan?" It was a valid question, at least in her mind. She presumed he wouldn't tell her, since the level of trust between them was a solid two. "Because if you're on your way out, I'll take your clothes out of the machine...you don't have to go, though."

“Why did you put my clothes in a machine?” He asked, frowning, before he continued “The plan is to find Samael and kill him,” probably fail, probably die a horrible death even if he did succeed, “Maybe… maybe get that Aiden guy to help…” he shrugged, “I don’t have to wait for him here though - asking you to help save the fucking world’s one thing, asking to stay’s another.”

Violet's face grew weary. She was almost too drained to explain things to him. "The machine washes your clothes." She settled further back into the couch, kicking out her legs. Taking in the room, her gaze lazily settled on Apollo, who was licking the floor where the pizza crust had landed. In that moment, she wondered if he could develop a better plan then Keith.

"Okay, where are you going to stay?"

“A machine that…?” Colin shook his head, better not think about it. He thought for a moment. The bathroom where he’d landed had been dry, but also full of leeches, so clearly that was out. The abandoned building Vitius had dragged him to was out as well, there was no knowing when the leech might return.

[color=#88e312] “I’ll figure something out... “ he settled on eventually, “Slept in places colder than this, I’ll manage.” he shrugged, feigning indifference.

"And you're just gonna hole up somewhere, hope no one finds you in this 'evil lair'?" Her brow rose, and her body tensed as she prepared to press him further. "Where are you going to get food? Your money doesn't work here."

He bit the inside of his cheek, unable to help the slight step back that he took, “Like I- like I said, I’ll figure sumat out,” that sounded defensive didn’t it? Fuck, “never needed money to get food anyway, it’s not like it’s the middle of winter or anything, bound to be rabbits and-”

He reached to where his bow would normally be, an automatic gesture, only for his fingers to grasp at thin air, “Fuck. Forgot the fucking leech took it when he grabbed me-” he looked back to Violet, right, still there, “err, I’ll figure it out. If you want me gone, I’m gone.”

A low groan sounded from Violet. He was as stubborn as her brother. Not nearly as rude, though.

"I'm going to my room." She was tired, not even the pizza looked good to her anymore. Which was saddening, because she loved lukewarm pizza. "You want me to help you? Knock on my door in about eight hours, we'll get to work. If you decide to leave while I'm asleep, great. If you don't, great."

She had resigned. Keith was beginning to bug her, so she wasn't going to be the one that told him the only food in the city streets was rats.

Lifting up from the couch, she popped her knees with a slight squat and began the stride toward her room.

Colin stared as the door slammed shut behind her, leaving him stood, a little awkward, in the middle of the floor. If he left now, she would never help him, but at the same time, she wouldn’t be able to lure him into a trap. Being stuck inside…

Out of the corner of his eye, smoke curled out from under her bedroom door, but then he blinked and it was gone, leaving nothing but a tight, burning feeling snagged on the edge of his breath. He moved toward to the door, the one that led to the hallway that led to outside, and pressed down on the handle, half expecting it to be hot. It wasn’t, and it clicked open easily, allowing a slice of cold air from outside to enter.

Safe. It was safe here. He could get out if he needed to.
He glanced behind him, a black square of window stood sentinel behind a dining table, spits of rain dotting the glass. He peered downward - there wasn’t a lot of room under the table, but there was enough, and it was probably the safest spot if he was going to wait for Violet - she wouldn’t see him right away, and it was right next to the window for an easy exit.

The first night at The Keep, Colin had found a cupboard to curl up in, and spent most of the night wide awake, twitching violently at any sign of danger until he eventually passed out, exhausted. It had been better than going to sleep in a room with a murderer. Now, he grabbed his boots from by the door, dragged one of the chairs out from the table, and crawled underneath, huddling against the wall, knees up to his chest.

Some things had changed. Others?

He forced himself to shut his eyes, leaned his head against his knees, and waited for morning.

---

Violet slept well. Perhaps too well, considering there was a stranger in her home that could become violent at any moment. It wasn't a lack of fear that allowed her to rest peacefully. Keith did scare her, if only a little, but she was too exhausted to care. So, she stayed asleep for hours on end, without a dream or nightmare to disturb her slumber.

It was ten hours later that she woke. Upon figuring out how long she had been asleep she assumed, with a soft sigh, that Keith had abandoned ship. She supposed it was for the best. After all, how was she gonna handle a guy like that?

Shuffling toward the bedroom door, she opened it and made her way out to the kitchen for breakfast. Only to get frightened by the unconscious body in front of her.

Was he unconscious? Should she check? Had he died during the night?

She nearly poked him with a toe, but chickened out at the last second in favor of pouring some cereal and moving back to her room.

Two hours later, after exhausting herself on all her favorite mobile streaming services, she moved to the laundry room to hang up Keith's clothing and put his thick yellow-ish cloak in the dryer. She was surprised they had survived the machine, and hoped they wouldn't shrink now that they were clean...ish.

Beginning to grow bored, she found herself wandering back over to the man on her kitchen floor. She stared at his body for at least three minutes, before finally moving to crouch down and poke him.

"Wakey wakey, Keith. You ready to get to work?"

A gasp, and Colin was awake - something cold and hard under his cheek, light blinding, mouth dry with sleep - where the fuck-

Aiden. Violet. The battle. The fu- not the future.

Heart pounding, he pushed himself into a sitting position, back against the wall like he’d initially planned to stay throughout the night before slumping over. The spectres of sleep still clung to him - Kiri standing here, in Violet’s home, hands impossibly strong round his throat. His sister Mary, staring at him as Samael’s ghouls ripped her arms off, then her legs, then her head.

They were fading fast, but as always, were difficult to shake. He rubbed his eyes, looked up at Violet, and frowned, “Yeah, but… who’s Keith?”

"You. You're Keith. Until you give me your actual name, that is." Violet shrugged, scrutinizing him.

Holding out a hand at last, she offered wordlessly to pull him to his feet.

"C'mon, we'll work over breakfast." She was back to her nutrition plan till the weekend, but Keith seemed like he could use something hearty.

Colin accepted the proffered hand, allowing Violet to help pull him up, wincing slightly at the soreness of his muscles. That was gonna be a problem if he had to fight Samael (or go up any stairs.).

“Okay…” he agreed, watching her for a moment, brow furrowed. Brighid had said once that names had power, but Violet had had plenty of opportunity to kill him already. Wherever this place was, maybe it was time to start listening to the people here instead of the ones back home.

“And err…the name’s Colin.” he said quietly, and shrugged.

So, Keith was Colin. She had been off. Not by too much, though. She gave him another once over, before finally deciding the name Colin was a proper match.

"Nice to meet you, Colin." She grinned, wondering why it had taken him so long to reveal this to her. Maybe Aiden had been threatening to him?

She glanced at her body, painstakingly crafted throughout the years for prime athleticism. A scholarship for track at DU, ripped away from her by the accident. She had plans to reclaim her position.

Was she not intimidating? God, that sucked.

"I have two ways to help you. One is called the Internet, and the other is," She pointed a thumb at herself. "Yours truly. Both may be a bit unreliable in your case."

[color=#88e312]“Internet?” Colin asked, curiosity overtaking the niggles of doubt that crept in the second he revealed his name,[color=#88e312] “Is that some kind of spell? Can you do magic?” he’d always been cautiously intrigued by what Eliza and Brighid could do.

Then he remembered Samael, not just him but Anastasia, the necromancer from when they were just starting out as initiates, the terrifying wards that guarded the keep and the destructive powers of Eliza’s mentors. Magic hurt as much as it helped, and the jury was still out on whether Violet was trustworthy or not.

"No, the internet is...science, I guess?" More like a group of minds all jumbled together in one place, but that would take too much explanation.

"And...as for the magic bit..." She wasn't a mage. The closest spellcaster relatives she had were her Uncle Reynold and her cousin, Carrie. They were on her mother's side, and Uncle Reynold had married into the family. Other than that, everyone was pretty much normal.

It didn't really explain her sudden gifts, if they could even be called that. Horrible bouts of nausea? Yeah, a total blessing. "I guess it's kinda like that, just not as reliable."

She scratched the back of her neck. "But, anyways, we'll try both."

Science? Colin frowned. Back when he was living with Andi in Sinstead, her healer-boyfriend Moonshine had loudly declared himself a scientist lots of times, had even dragged them all to a ‘science show’ one time. None of it seemed like anything that was particularly helpful though, “How’s cutting up animals and drawing their insides gonna help us find Samael?” he asked, confusion evident.

Did she have time to explain the ins and outs or science to him? No. Did she have the know-how or the patience for it? Absolutely not. That conversation would be saved for another day, lucky him.

"It's a lot more...magical than you'd think." She insisted, trying to go with something he knew about. "Anyways, let's get to work. I'm gonna ask a lot of questions, and if you want accurate results I need accurate answers." She eyed him, hoping he understood the severity of this.

Walking away from him and into her room, she grabbed her laptop and headed for the couch. Waving Colin over, she collapsed onto the cushions and settled her computer on the coffee table.

"Okay, so you said that there were two other people that jumped in the portal before you. One was Samael, and the other was...whoever. Let's start there."

Another frown “With… with Kiri?” Colin asked, voice oddly hoarse, “All I know she jumped in after Samael - pretty sure she’s working with him though, it was all a ruse, get us all to follow after her,” he scowled, “fucking worked as well, didn’t it?”

Violet held up her hands defensively. "Look, dude. Whatever that--" She said, in reference to the sudden outburst that came out alongside Kiri's name. "--just was, isn't my problem. If she's trying to destroy the world, that's where I come in."

Beginning to type in the name 'Kiri', she looked at the results. The first five that popped up were in reference to the two-time swim gold medalist, Kiri Williams. A couple of others appeared as well, but they weren't familiar search terms to her.

"Anything catching your eye?"

Colin squinted - the magic-but-actually-somehow-science-internet device seemed very similar to the ‘phone’ from before - glowing that hurt his eyes to look at. This one, instead of responding to Violet’s finger on it, seemed to controlled by a series of buttons beneath the glowing part. This ‘internet’ seemed weird.

After a moment of looking, he realised that the squiggly blackthings that seemed to cover the internet were actually letters and pictures. The letters swum disorientingly before his eyes - there were far more than he was used to, and they all seemed uniform, as if they weren;t even written by a person. Which made a strange kind of sense. It was magic after all.

Instead, he looked at the pictures - most of them were of a woman in a shiny cap, standing by a large square pool of water. Not Kiri, and looking at her for too long made his cheeks warm. He tore his eyes down to one of the pictures at the bottom of the internet - a black line drawing of a woman holding a sword, a ferocious expression on her face. He squinted to read the writing next to it.

“H...A...E…” he murmured quietly, recognition slowly dawning - that was Kiri’s last name! “Hae!” he said, looking to Violet, “Kiri Hae - that-” he looked at the image again, a cold sweat creeping in. He gripped his arm. Tried to shake the memory of clothes, soaked through with snow and blood, his uncle’s eyes, empty. Staring back at him.

“That’s her.” he said, sedate.

A realization crept into Violet's mind as she noticed Colin struggling with the words. He wasn't able to read. At least, not as well as most people she knew. She scratched at her knee, not wanting to bring it up.

She'd just figure out a way to teach him...later. For now, it was back to business.

"Alright, Kiri Hae." She clicked on the search result, and it took her to a crappy website that was made to look like an old scroll, cursive font and all. In the top right corner, the image they had seen on the previous page was enlarged.

Centered on the top of the page was the heading Kiri Hae: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Violet frowned, before skimming through the article.

"Looks like Kiri is pretty popular in the urban legends community." And she was a meme, but Violet didn't feel like explaining that. "Says here," She pointed at a grouping of sentences. "That she was big on killing 'evildoers'."

Colin scowled, “Evildoers? You know how many innocents she murdered? In cold blood?” he paused, there was Locksely, his uncle, probably countless more that he didn’t know about, “First time I met her, she burned a man to death, just a few months ago, she-” he grit his teeth. Fuck. He’d never even said it aloud before, not to anyone that hadn’t been in that cold carriage on the way back to the keep. He lowered his voice, “She fucking chopped my uncles head off. In front of me. So- so-” he sucked air in through his teeth, “whatever that fucking internet thing says is wrong, okay?”

Violet watched with wide eyes as Colin became unhinged. A door to something was opening, and she was sure it wouldn't be pleasant. Reaching out, her hand stopped a few centimeters short of touching him.

"Hey...do you wanna...breathe with me?" She asked, almost cringing at the choice of words. It was just what her therapist would say whenever she began to erupt.

"Deep breaths really--I don't know, they help."

Colin’s fingers knotted in his hair - thick and sticky with blood, far more real than the voice telling him to breathe. The voice was right though. Violet - that’s who it was, Violet was right. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes tight against the world- focused outward like Moonshine used to tell him - ’five things you can see kiddo, c’mon’.

Carpet. Boots. Violet. Violet’s hair, bright purple. The internet.

There were other steps after that, but Colin didn’t remember them. He breathed, Like Violet said, listened to her as the feeling of snow soaking through his shirt became just a memory again. As he realised that fuck, he’d just freaked out on Violet, after everything she’d already done to help.

He swallowed nervously, straightening, “Sorry…” he mumbled, “That… sorry. Can we… I get if you want me to leave but… can we keep looking? Does that thing tell you where she is?”

Okay, he wanted to move on. She was fine with that. Extra extra fine. Dropping her hand, she smiled politely and nodded. "No leaving, not until we solve the mystery."

Scanning over the rest of the page, she sighed as she realized it was a bust. Of course it was, there was no way this trashy website would give locations. "Nope, no locations. Why don't we look at news articles from the past week to see if Kiri's popped up around town? A lost woman would make local news."

And so the search began. Violet's fingers flew over the keyboard, seeking out answers. She swapped positions on the couch, laid out on the floor with the laptop hovering precariously over her head. Typed, and typed, and typed. Skimmed, searched and even swiped on her phone when holding the laptop became too much work. Samael, Kiri, the Haes.

All to no avail. There were pictures, history book pages, flip card sites built for studying. Nothing important. No leads.

"Fuck." She mumbled, after thirty minutes straight of just looking. Usually, her attention span lasted about five minutes before she got pissed. This was beginning to be a bit much.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She had promised she would help him, she had promised.

"Who else went through, other than Sam and Kiri?" He had said it was a ruse for 'us' to follow, right?

Colin, who’d been watching Violet intently and only understanding about a quarter of the things she’d been saying, started a little at her suddenly addressing him instead of ‘the internet’ and ‘the phone’ again, “[color=#88e312]I err…” he thought back to the battle, who’d been there, “I dunno if any of them actually went in after me… but there were others there - Brighid O’Shay,” apparently last names were important when using the internet to find people, “Eliza Chase, Zeke…. I dunno what his last name was, he was just a really big werewolf.”

The name O'Shay and Chase sounded familiar. Chase was pretty common, but she could've sworn it was important. And O'Shay...God, it was right on the tip of her tongue.

Sitting up straight, she placed the laptop back onto the coffee table and looked up Eliza Chase. At the first result, her eyes sparkled with recognition. And relief, as they had finally found something relevant to this time period.

"The Chase Scholarship!"

Colin peered over her shoulder - as expected, the text on the internet made little sense, but the image plastered on the machine was infinitely familiar. It was Eliza - hair big, the same colour as when he first met her, eyes bright, grinning right back at him, like she’d just put slugs in Finlay’s boots and was just waiting to see what happened.

She hadn’t looked like that for a long time.

“That’s Eliza,” Colin said, turning to Violet, [color=#88e312]“how did the internet get this picture? Does that mean it knows where she is?” Was she here? The thought of Eliza, alone, stuck in this… this… wherever the fuck it was like he was… “Is she… is she here too?”

"Well...maybe?" Violet wasn't sure if her answer would appease him, but she wasn't interested in withholding the truth.

Scrolling through the page, Violet refreshed her knowledge on the scholarship. It had been a big deal for all the spellcasters in the school, and Violet had been extremely frustrated she wasn't eligible.

"Basically this big mage family gives out money in honor of Eliza to pay for spellcaster's tuitions. She went MIA and it was a whole thing to the head honcho's son...er, brother? I don't really know. Just says Ethaniel." Violet shrugged, watching Colin's face to see if he was processing everything.

“Ethaniel Witwing? The internet knows about the Witwings?” Colin felt something bubbling in his chest - bright and warm. If the internet knew about the Witwings they must’ve survived - from the little Colin knew, they were powerful spellcasters, maybe they knew something about the portal? Maybe if he gave them more information, they could find… wherever Eliza had gone, figure out the portal, and take down Samael, “You-your err, your phone thing - it communicates over distances you said - could you use it to talk to the Witwings? Tell them we have information about Eliza?”

Violet grinned. They were getting somewhere! She felt herself buzzing, excitement for the situation washing over her in sporadic waves.

"I can call and see if we can schedule an appointment or something. Say we need to talk to their scholarship people." It would take a bit of fibbing, but so be it.

"We should save the Eliza info, could be a good bargaining chip if they try to throw us out." With that in mind, she began to dial up the Witwing manor.

---

The daylight came to fast to the displeasure of Thane. He growled in agitation as his eyes were hit by a blinding ray of light coming through the partially closed curtains of the window. His head was numbly throbbing from the hangover he was nursing. He reluctantly got off his couch he had previously passed out on, slowly shuffling his way to the kitchen to clean up the mess of half eaten watermelon from when he woke up earlier in the night. The wolf in him slightly whined seeing it fall into the trash but by now the fruit would of been terrible to eat. Once he cleaned up the mess he shuffled his way to his bathroom to shower. Upon entering he looked at himself in the mirror. Minus the scar on his face, the rest of him had healed while he slept, now he just needed to get rid of the dried blood. Starting the shower he started his painful day.

Upon finishing his cleaning of blood and sweat of the past day, he got new clothes before sighing loudly to himself while heading back into his kitchen to precede to make a foul mixture that he would only describe as a personal recipe for makeup juice. It gagged him but helped push back against some of the pain of the brick slamming his head which he needed to take the next step for his dead. The dread walk of doom to his mailbox that he had yet to do the previous day. The slam of the door behind him, even with his best effort to be silent, caused his head to throb in displeasure. Groaning, he slid his way down the hall to the elevator. Making his way down to the lobby before continuing the slow walk to a wall of locked boxes, finding his number and opening, taking what was inside before making his way back, only hoping that no one bothered him on his way back.

---

Rubbing his face, Aiden managed a low groan, before his bare feet gently connected with a lacquered, wooden floor. Thirty solid minutes of sleep had managed their way into the boy’s schedule, and not for a lack of trying. He had failed in his mission, and that was guilt which wouldn’t easily fade. Because of him, a Demon was free in Duncaster, and it was his sole duty to find and vanquish this beast. However, just as he had stated for the time-traveler a day before, rushing in blindly would help no one. Sleep was a struggle, and with thirty mere minutes of rest to accompany his five hours on expensive silken sheets, Aiden’s tired eyes spoke volumes. ”I need a fucking drink..,” the Angel mumbled, his slender fingers gently rubbing at the boy’s forehead.

”Aiden, the wound in your heart is aching loudly enough for me to hear its every beat,” came a soft response, as warm hands found home on the Angel’s cheeks. ”You need to abandon this misery, for it is only a detriment.”

Dark, obsidian eyes rose to meet their reflection, peering into the endless abyss that was Lumen’s replicated visage. Ironic, how only a night’s difference had turned Aiden’s scenario around, completely. He could still picture the moment where he stood in Violet’s apartment, telling ‘Keith’ to calm himself down, and think logically. Now, here the boy sat, in his own bed, disillusioned, and defeated. ”She controlled my mind,” Aiden spoke, the words cracking as he clenched his teeth. ”She nearly killed us with words, Lumen.., because I wasn’t strong enough.”

”It is foolish to think a Demon any less powerful,” the Spirit retorted, and truthfully so. That woman, her chilling presence which so easily twisted into soothing warmth, it was enough to cause a fright. She had peered into Aiden’s very soul, where she not only saw his extended life, but also Lumen. There were no secrets to be held from this creature. She knew of his deepest, most secure thoughts at a mere gaze. Could all Demons manage such a feat? Surely not.

”We need to find her,” Aiden sighed, rubbing his face before finally pulling himself away from the bed.

”Finding a Demon of such power will be difficult,” the Spirit offered, his presence lingering at AIden’s side where the boy slowly padded towards his kitchen. It was a sleek sight, as if an image cropped from a luxurious magazine. Unlike Violet’s home, one could be forgiven for mistaking Aiden’s venue a mere studio, which no one actually called home. This was perhaps elevated when his pale fingers wrapped their way around the fridge handle and pulled it open to reveal rows of energy drinks expertly stacked within. No food to speak of.

”Or she’ll just find us..,” came a sigh as Aiden opened a can of Java Energy, from the one brand he truly enjoyed. Monster. Moving the drink towards his small lips, Aiden sipped its contents followed by exhaling a short breath. A refreshing act which was the best experience he had been granted in the past nine hours.

”That is not outside the realms of possibility. Perhaps you should focus on assisting Violet and ‘Keith’, while we maintain vigilance?” Lumen spoke. Frustration was closely acquainted with the feeling of helplessness, which Aiden could now relate to. He did not know where to look, or where to start. Neither did he know what the Demon’s agenda had been.

”I promised the Time Hobo some weapons. Let's hope he doesn't kill himself with them..,” Aiden stated, his thoughts traveling elsewhere, if even for a brief moment. Tracking a path back to his bedroom, he reached for his phone, and called Charles.

---

Her eyes were red and swollen. Kassandra didn't need to get up and look at her reflection to confirm such fact; she felt it. The black satin sheet was draped over the contours of her body as she lay on one side; her short hair sprawled around her as a result of her tossing and turning throughout the night. Last night had been emotionally painful to the point that it drained her. She had been involved in a major fight with Desmond which at some point had become physical. He didn't hit her, but he did push her against the wall after she shoved him. She, however, spent hours crying over his words.

It had been roughly an hour since she'd woken up before her phone went off a couple of times. Kassandra chose to ignore it, not sure whether it was Desmond on the other end. She didn't know what to say just yet, but instead of moping around, she pushed the bedsheets to the side and got up, getting a good stretch in once she sat on the side of the bed. Kassandra sat around for a moment, contemplating what she'd do that morning when her phone started ringing. She picked it up and noticed it was a video call from Clarisse, the manager at her bar.

"Talk to me."

"Wow, rough night?"

"Yeah, killer hangover," she lied, smiling a little.

"Right. So that order you placed never came in yesterday, and I wouldn't bother you but the password to the system expired so if you could pass by real quick that'd be great."

"Gee girl, take a breath."

Both women laughed before they talked a little more as Kassandra walked around to start her morning. She would spend a little while trying to decide what to wear, as usual, but then she'd make her way down to the bar to sort out the mess from the previous night.

A phone call confirmed their impromptu appointment, which Violet found surprising. She had figured the Witwings would be a bit more busy, what with running a multi-million dollar magic corporation and all. Still, things were working in their favor and she’d be damned if she fucked it all up. So, forgoing a proper shower and simply brushing her teeth instead, she ordered an uber and practically pushed Colin downstairs in the moments before its arrival.

She kept quiet on the ride over, her leg bouncing as she did her best not to focus on the road. If she thought about it too hard, she ended up back in the car that night. She thought about the clear road, how they knew it like the back of their hands. How the front of the car had been destroyed by something, but there was no trace of whatever they had slammed into. God, she was doing it again.

Shaking herself out, she remained thoughtless for the rest of the ride, up until the point where they arrived at Witwing Corp. The skyscraper wasn’t quite as tall as those around it, but it was just as imposing. Getting out of the car, she waited for Colin to step out beside her.

”So...you wanna ring the doorbell or should I?”

Colin had been right - the metallic boxes that lined the street the night before were carriages, but they were also as far from it as you got. The ‘uber’ as Violet called it wasn’t drawn by horses, but instead controlled by the driver from inside the cabin. The motion was smooth and quiet, the thick ridged wheels likely having something to do with that, but Colin hadn’t been able to figure out how it moved.

Violet had seemed nervous and distracted, so he’d asked the driver, who’d proven not all of Samael’s minions were as nice as Violet when he told Colin to fuck off.

The ride was over now though, and Colin’s attention was again drawn to the outside world - even in daylight, he couldn’t see all the way to the tops of the buildings, and he couldn’t help but stare, slack jawed, at the structures. He blinked at Violet’s words, not realising they were there already - Samael’s lair was nothing if not efficient apparently, “Err… would they be expecting you to?” he asked dumbly, unable to stop staring every which way.

Violet offered him a shrug, before walking up to the building. His childlike reaction to everything was cute and all, but he was making them look bad. Rolling her shoulders, she pressed the com button on the keypad that locked the doors.

”Please state your name and business.” A voice on the other side, likely belonging to the receptionist, said.

“Uh...Violet Benoit, and,” She glanced over at Colin. ”Er...Colin, here for a meeting with the scholarship people.”

There was a moment of silence before the door clicked, telling her it had been unlocked. She reached for the handle, and gestured for Colin to follow her into the lobby.

Upon stepping inside, the duo was greeted by the scents of vanilla and cinnamon, and the sight of a cozy lounge that was more reminiscent of an aged house than a company waiting room. The floor was wooden, with a soft rug covering its center. Portraits of modern Duncaster and the surrounding areas lined the warm beige walls. A genuine fireplace was crackling in the corner, and Violet had no idea how it was being regulated without a chimney.

Taking cautious steps toward the front desk, Violet scratched away at her thigh while she waited for the receptionist to acknowledge her. The woman behind the desk was young, with grey eyes and wavy brown hair. Her pantsuit dwarfed her waifish body, but the smile she offered was confident.

"Ms. Benoit, Mr. Witwing's apprentice will be with you in just a moment." She gestured to a row of chairs. "Feel free to sit down and relax in the meantime."

Violet nodded absently, turning on her heel and plopping down in a nearby chair. She released a breath, wondering how Colin felt about all this. Would the antique scenery confuse him?

Colin followed Violet’s lead, taking a seat next to Violet, balancing on the very edge of the chair. This all seemed very easy. Another part of the ruse?

As time went on, it was getting more and more difficult to keep the pieces straight in his head. What was the point of all this? Fake Witwings? Ubers? Internets? And now this room? It didn’t make any sense. Clearly it had been designed to lull them (or just him? Violet was still a mystery.) into a false sense of security - a copy, a clever one, but still a copy, of the real world.

Most of it was well done. But the obviously fake fireplace (where was all the smoke going?), the woman’s odd, clean-lined outift, the almost overpowering scent of warmth. There but not quite. Like they’d tried, but given up halfway through.

But why though?

He glanced at Violet. She seemed less on edge than she’d been in the ‘uber’. Coincidence? No way to tell. The jumper she’d given him, with the writing on the front, was too hot now instead of just warm. He rolled the sleeves up, rolled them down again when he remembered that this was somewhere strange, foreign, not to be trusted.

The quiet pressed in, deafeningly close. He huffed, and then he broke, “How long d’you think they’ll be?” he murmured to Violet under his breath, eye on the strangely dressed woman behind the counter.

Violet had been watching Colin out of the corner of her eye, and it was safe to say he wasn't taking all of this well. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, but just as she was about to offer up a word of encouragement, he opened his mouth and spoke.

"I dunno. You just have to be patient sometimes." She shrugged, though she wasn't very good at it either. Her body wasn't made for long periods of inactivity.

Colin was about to respond, mildly irritated, when a young woman entered. Unlike the woman behind the counter, her clothing was bright and loud - a green dress splashed with pink cherries bloomed at her hips, chunky socks rolled down to her calves were topped off with sparkly boots that, in Colin’s opinion, didn’t seem particularly practical, even though they seemed to be modeled after everyday walking boots.

Brown eyes skirted the waiting room until they fell upon Colin and Violet. Colin, meanwhile, couldn’t keep his eyes away from her hair - pink and spikey - was that magic?

“Mr Witwing’s ready for you,” she said, voice clipped and abrupt, before she promptly turned on her heel and went back the way she came, a muffled shout of “this way!” seeming to echo behind her.

Colin gave Violet a nervous look, waiting to take her lead.

Violet shrugged, though she was evidently put off by the girl's sense of...could that even be called style? Standing, she kicked out her legs until each extremity popped multiple times.

"Well, it's now or never. Hope you have a good case." She smirked playfully, following after the apprentice with long strides.

As they walked the hallways, portraits of the past Witwing clan leaders stared them down. The paintings were unfamiliar to her, but one did catch her eye, seeing as it was of two people. A woman sat in a chair, with a man lazily perched on the arm. They were both blonde, a recurring theme in the portraits, and dressed in flowing outfits. While the woman looked incredibly charming and casual, the man appeared a bit drained. Violet wondered why the artist hadn't...spruced him up a bit for the rendition.

Glancing at the placard beneath it in the moment of pause, her brow rose at the names engraved in gold. Cecilia and Ethaniel Witwing.

"Look, it's the Ethaniel dude." She commented, her tone plain.

“Cecilia too...his… sister?” Colin couldn’t remember the night they’d broken the wards very well, just… lots of blood, and the man and woman pictured before them. That whole period was fuzzy and distant, anything could’ve happened. He looked away, following the woman - Mr. Witwing’s apprentice.

They eventually reached a set of double doors, classy gold door knobs adorning each one. Colin didn’t think he’d ever seen so much gold in one place in his life. The Witwings - Samael must’ve been loaded, more than he realised.

“Right.” The apprentice stopped abruptly and stared at a purple glass eye shape, buried in the door, “Felicity, it’s that woman from the phone here to see Mr. Witwing, can let us in.”

Colin flinched as a lyrical voice filled the corridor, “Hmm… I certainly can…”

A few moments, and the door didn’t budge.

The apprentice grew visibly frustrated, “Oh for- Felicitiy, will you please let us in?”

Wordlessly, the door started to drag open, before coming to a tired stop halfway through.

“Lazy piece of…” the apprentice muttered under her breath, before extending her hand toward the door, a curling vine seeming to sprout from her fingertips before connecting with the handle. A twitch, and the vine sprang back, opening the door with it, “Through there.” the apprentice gestured with her spikey head.

Violet tried not to cringe back at the casual use of magic. She hadn't been expecting anything different, but it was still freaky. Vines just sprouting from someone's fingers? That was kinda gross, too.

Straightening, Violet flashed the apprentice lady a quick smile before stepping past her and into the office. Like the waiting area, it was incredibly cozy. More of a study than an official office, in Violet's mind. There were couches in the center of the room facing yet another fireplace, though this one wasn't lit. To the far right side was a desk, and sitting behind it was a man who looked eerily similar to the people in the portraits.

The same blonde hair, the same vivid blue eyes. He appeared a bit taller, though, unless his chair was elevated fully. His forehead was a bit blocky, but his sharp jawline was a good contrast. He wore a plain black suit, and his dimpled smile welcomed them into the room. His gaze darted past Violet, and lingered on Colin. His smile only broadened as he took in the Virginity Rocks sweater he wore.

"Hello, you must be Violet…and, Colin! Well, please, take a seat." He gestured toward the chairs. "Your conversation with Kylie was so brief, but Felicity told me it was interesting. I knew then that a meeting was in order."

Colin shrunk away from the man’s gaze, again, looking to Violet for direction. He’d been half expecting Samael to be behind the doors, but this man was clearly… not that. From what Colin’d seen of the Witwings, he certainly looked like one - blonde hair and bright features, but he didn’t look like any Colin’d met before (although he had only met two). And why did the name Felicity sound so familiar?

He looked at the chairs, back to Violet, and then opted to stay standing for the time being. He bit the inside of his cheek, furrowed his brow, “We, err, we-” he shook his head, started over, “You’re a Witwing right? Do you know where Ethaniel is? We know shit he might want to hear.”

The man's grin tightened in a moment of confusion, before relaxing again. "Ethaniel? I know of many Ethaniel's, the name's commonplace in our family in the same way Canor is." Of course, there was only one Ethaniel in his generation, and he preferred the shortened name 'Ethan'. Not to mention, he was away on business in Sinstead.

"Canor! He's the boss right?" Colin said, glad to hear another name he recognised - and one with authority too, "Look, just-" another look to Violet, "We know what happened to Eliza - you lot're looking for her right? Maybe- maybe we can help each other?"

Elias watched Colin, his brow furrowed in a way that diminished his previous air of calm and joy. To their side, the fire began to crackle, small blue flames lashing out at the trio. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Violet's gaze shot to the fire, no smoke rising off the vivid, albeit tiny, blaze. Super freaking creepy. "Uh...h-hey, Mr. Witwing? Mind dimming it down a little?"

Elias followed her eyes to the fire, and immediately chuckled. "My apologies, what a childish reaction." By magic, the flames vanished, the wood beneath charred, but completely cold. "Now, might you explain yourself? I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding, but it's rather rude to speak of the dead in the way you are."

Colin glanced back at the double doors they came through - not quite open, but there was a crack. Not locked. They weren’t stuck. Magic was just terrifying. And this man… Colin didn’t know what he was trying to do, what angle he was trying to play, but dead? That didn’t make any sense, “Eliza’s not dead.” he said, “Your scholarship thing - it said she disappeared. You’re the most powerful mage family around, you haven’t… you haven’t given up already have you? The battle was only yesterday.”

"...Oh." Elias sighed, the sound deep and full of irritation. "You're one of those. Get out."

“Are you… are you having me on?” Colin said, hoarse and bewildered, “first, you pull her out of the worst fucking place she could’ve been born into,” Colin could still remember Eliza telling him about her dad, if he could even be called that,[color=#88e312]“you train her up, make her feel like a part of your family. Make it so that you’re her world- and now what,” he paused, fists clenched at his sides, “you’re just abandoning her?”

“I don’t know what she is to you, not much more than a fucking toy from the sounds of it,” a ripple of guilt plunged through his stomach. Eliza had been distant. Difficult. For a while now, but more so than ever the past few months. He hadn’t helped her, wasn’t even sure if that was possible, “but she’s my friend.”

It didn’t change anything. He glared at Elias, daring him not to believe him.

Elias stood, pointing a rigid finger at Colin. Instinct told him to defend Eliza's name, his family's name. "I don't know what's possessing you, but you have no right. You will never have the right, to come into my business and speak ill of my family." The flames roared again, a full inferno that licked the outside of the fireplace. They put off no heat, but the wood beneath was quickly being reduced to ash.

"My ancestors searched for Eliza for years, and for you to parade around like her knight? On the anniversary of her disappearance? You're insane! All of you people! I want you out!" His voice was a snarl, his chest heaving as he struggled against his self-control.

Violet watched the exchange, her own breaths coming out rapid. The world was beginning to double. She was starting to see the colors again. "Let's go, Colin." She stood from her seat, blinking away at the vibrant red glow around Elias.

Teeth grit, Colin was about to bite back at Elias, when he noticed Violet, blinking rapidly, clearly upset. He jumped to his feet beside her. This wasn’t going anywhere - this Witwing guy was clearly a wanker, best get out before things got too nasty.

“Right.” he spat, “Clearly this isn’t going anywhere. Fuck you Mr. Witwing.”

And with that, they left.

---

The building was labyrinthine, and with Violet staring like she couldn’t even see, it was up to Colin to get them out. He managed, just about, with only minimal swearing, and so, they ended up stood outside the huge gleaming building.

After a moment to catch his breath from all the dramatic storming out, he turned to Violet, concerned, “You alright?”

Upon leaving the building, tension flooded rapidly from Violet's shoulders. No more angry magic guy, no more shouting back and forth, and no more flames. That sounded good to her.

Glancing over to Colin, she stared him down, watching as his aura faded from an intense indigo to a blue-ish cast. Eventually, it settled into nothingness, and the world around her ceased its spinning. She really needed to work on that.

"I'm fine...tired." She wasn't sure why she was lying. He seemed concerned, genuinely, so why couldn't she tell him what she saw? Screw it, she didn't have to. Not right now. "Sorry this was a bust. I...don't think he understood the whole 'from the past' thing."

“If you’re sure..” Colin said, she did look a little better at least. He didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell if she was lying, but if she didn’t want to talk about it, what right did he have to push it? “That guy was a right wanker,” he said instead, the irritation from the meeting sizzling back up now that he knew Violet wasn’t about to drop dead, “Fucking Witwings, always knew they were trouble. Nothing good ever comes out of meeting them. Thought they’d at least give a flying fuck about Eliza though,” he scowled, “The fuck was he on about anyway?”

"I, well, I honestly think he did care about Eliza. He just thinks she's dead. Like everybody else. It's been three hundred years, Colin." Violet sucked in a breath, backing away a half step. She didn't want him to get mad at her. But...then again. She had to get it through his skull somehow.

"To you, the battle was yesterday. To everyone else, it's just a memory that was passed on. Who knows, maybe Eliza is gone? She disappeared, but who knows where she came out." It was the harsh reality of things, something Violet had forced herself to consider when Mr. Witwing had brought up her being dead. "We can keep looking, though. I won't give if you won't."

Not the future, not the future, not the future, not the future, not the-

Colin shook his head, “You don’t know that. You can’t. This could just be a- a- I don’t know, a fucking dream or illussion or something- It’s not, it’s not-” he grit his teeth, shook his head again, watched the motion send a cascade of stars across his vision.

- future, not the future, not the future, not the future, not the future-

“This doesn’t-” fake-real Witwings, Duncaster but not, angels, ubers, Eliza on the internet being talked about like she’d been missing for years, Kiri, a fucking myth, “this doesn’t make any fucking sense.” fingers grasping rubbery tissue, nails, hands, big and chunky and not fucking Kiri’s gripping his throat.

At some point he backed up into a wall, at some point he sunk to the floor. The world twisted and pinched around him, real one minute, then no more touchable than a picture in a book. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real, it fucking had to be. Nothing else made any sense, but neither did this.

Nails deeper into skin, not that he could feel it, “I don’t understand…” he looked up to where Violet was, maybe, he wasn’t sure, flat as the world around her, real as anything else in this fucking place. Somewhere, a little girl was screaming so loud she was everywhere, “Where is this? Please… Just-- just tell me the truth.”

Violet's face scrunched, pain written across her features and buried in her eyes. He thought she was fake, just some figment of his imagination--or, Samael's. That wasn't what hurt, though. The betrayal was one thing, but seeing someone break right in front of her was devastating. Was this how she looked whenever she had a fit of anger? Crazed, detached?

She shuffled closer, feeling incredibly stupid. Especially since they were having this argument on the sidewalk.

Crouching down, she stared straight into Colin's eyes. "You are in Duncaster." She sucked in a breath, steadied her crouch. She angled her face away, wincing in preparation for the explosion. What was he going to do? Hit her? Run away? Where would he even go?

He shifted backwards as Violet got closer, pulled knees that might’ve been his tighter to his chest, he could still hear screaming, the lock clicking, fists pounding on a door - “Duncaster- Duncaster when?” the voice was harsh and dry and strangled all at once. He didn’t want to hear the answer. He looked down.

He didn't hit her, thank God. "Twenty-nineteen." She gulped, swallowing down a lump in her throat that caused the words to come out thick. "This is real, Colin. I'm not fake." She knew that much. The thought was ridiculous. If she was fake then how could she be there, talking to him? She didn't have time to think about that.

"Are you going to be alright?"

The ground beneath Colin was mottled but smooth, millions of perfect little circles imprinted into each stone slab. He let his hands fall to his sides, fingertips brushing against the foreign surface. Still couldn’t look at Violet, at much more than the neat little shapes, all in their rows, where they were meant to be.

Three hundred years was a long, long time. People didn’t live that long. Things didn’t last.

A slow, considered head shake.

“What do I do now?”

Easy now, things like this are sensitive. She stayed silent for a long moment, knowing how easily she messed up sensitive things. It was why she could never hold a guy, why she always fought with her brother. She was reactive, but now she had time to think.

"Well, we can talk about it." A simple suggestion, but a suggestion nonetheless. "And...if you cry--er, get upset, I won't judge you or anything. I'll just feed you ice cream and we can give each other manicures." She forced a laugh, rocking on the balls of her feet.

What did Dr. Limatine say? "Pain is forever...wait, no. I mean, pain isn't forever. I mean-" She groaned.

"Pain is only forever if you bottle it up and feed it. You gotta let it go away. It'll take time, though." There, that was what her therapist said. At least, in brief.

He exhaled, body sagging with the motion. Time. Right. If everything went away with time, then why was everything still there? Violet’s suggestion wasn’t terrible though. There were… worse things to do than talking. Even if he had no idea what ice cream was, and a manicure sounded like an extremely painful medical procedure.

“Okay…” he said, eventually dragging his eyes up to meet Violet’s, “I still… I still need to figure out what happened with Samael. And Brighid… and Eliza… and, “ he swallowed, eyes darting back down again, “and Kiri too. Thanks, though. And… sorry for losing it on you.” he grimaced.

"Don't worry about it, dude. I'm sure this won't be the last time." Standing from her crouch, she offered him a hand. "Just wait until I lose it on you." A grin split her features.

With a slight wince, Colin took it, allowing her to help pull him to his feet. It was warm. Real. This was… real.

And with that, they headed back to Violet’s apartment.

---

Escape.

Escape was detrimental.

Stagnation was a killer. Every second she wasted was another second gifted to Samael. She knew this, she had made a promise to herself.

So why couldn't she move?

Was it the air here? So much thicker, it tasted dirty. Tainted. Like it needed to be run through a filter. Breathing it in was like snorting paste. And yet, it was still more refreshing than the air of the battlefield. The scent of blood, decay, all amplified by the rain. She shook it away, forcing back the thought, the hideous realization that she had been slipping around in the gore left behind by her fellow hoods. That their bits and pieces, their blood, was stuck to her skin.

It hadn't bothered her when the blood belonged to her Father, though, had it?

No, no, no. Not her father, not again. He was just a stain, a bloodied stain burned to ash and spread in the nearest ditch. She had made sure of it, he would not be coming back.

Only in her nightmares.

She wanted to move. She needed a drink.

Fingers, groping at her side, the movement was so fluid. Instinctual. There was nothing there, her flask was gone.

Teeth, grinding together slowly. A heaving breath, hands digging through hair. A low, garbled whine. She must've looked mad, doubling over just enough for a throbbing pain to spike in her side. Straightening, she gripped the air, dragging it down to her thighs in a fit.

The worst part? She wasn't present for it, she was only doing it. Going through the motions. She just needed to move! If she moved, she could find Samael. If she moved, she could get a drink.

Choppy breaths, blazing eyes. She forced a step forward. And another, another after that. She took methodical steps, until finally she broke into a casual stride. She could act normal. She had to act normal. Samael was probably watching her, laughing. Who wouldn't be amused by a woman going through a breakdown?

Her steps lead her to a gate, a scissor gate that was gleaming orange beneath the glow of two street lamps. Almost without thought, Eliza dug into her knapsack. She retrieved a charm, one of the last she had. Peered down at it, turning it over in her hand.

With a maniacal cry, she launched it at the gate, straight at the lock that was binding the two lengths of folding metal. In midair, the charm shifted, becoming a large chunk of earth.

The gate broke, and with it went a solid portion of Eliza's anger. Breaking things felt good.

But did it really? Yes.

It felt good, in the same way breaking her father had felt good. Even in the moments after, until Colin found her, and she felt guilty. But everyone needed a guilty pleasure, right?

Wrong. Right? She didn't know anymore. She just needed to walk.

And so she walked, down the grainy, albeit smooth stretch of outdoor flooring. She walked until she heard the chime of a bell, and pressed herself flat against the wall of the nearest building. One of the ones that stretched into the sky. One of the ones that was covered in windows, windows filled with lights.

She waited, breath catching in her throat, as the sound of the bell came closer. And closer. Then stopped, then started again. Then stopped.

Goddess, the bell was teasing her.

Finally, she broke away from the wall, peering around the corner. The sight that filled her eyes left her face scrunched with surprise.

A dog. Not of any breed that she had ever seen before, but a dog nonetheless. It was small, covered in tufts of white fur from head to toe. The fur looked so soft. Around its neck was a bell, tied to it by a handkerchief. It laid eyes upon her as well, and for a moment, Eliza crumpled under the weight of desire.

She wanted to pet the dog.

Crouching down, the dog immediately raced forward, prancing with paws lifting up in exaggerated motions. She allowed it to sniff her hand, a hoarse giggle escaping her as it licked her palm.

Scooping the small creature up into her arms, Eliza slouched against a building, marveling at the puppy. She had never met one so friendly. She stood there for a time, stroking the creature's fur and letting it writhe in her hands excitedly.

She was almost too enamored to catch the light. The clicking and whistling, the calling of a name. Bongo. The dog seemed to writhe more furiously at the sound. Eliza considered rushing to the other side of the building, but by the time she moved it was too late.

A beam of light hit the side of her face, and she froze. She glanced to her side, catching the eye of a relieved man in a similar outfit to her own.

"Oh, thank fuck, you found my dog!"