Montag simply observed Carol as she stalked around him, an animated predator waiting to strike her stoic and unyielding prey. He didn't pay much heed to her sharp words, while he set the plate in his hand on a shelf to the side, and instead set his sights on her intriguing snake tattoo. It seemed to dance around in fleeting movements on her neck, though the detective couldn't tell whether that was just a trick of the eye or if there was something more to these marks. Whether it seemed to move or not though, it felt to Eduard as though the tattoo gazed at him, like some parasitic entity waiting for its next victim.

And that's when Montag also became aware of the other sets of eyes on him, from outside of the tightly spaced room he found himself in with Carol. He felt almost a sense of relief. Some help in getting her out of the way without too much of a fuss was exactly what he needed at this point. But, as though fate was amusing itself with the young man's struggle, it didn't take Eduard long to notice their own marks dotted on their respective bodies. They all depicted the same image as Carol's: a snake coiled around a dagger's hilt. The snakes seemed to bare their fangs at the undercover waiter, all shimmering and moving in a similar manner.

"If you're looking for a cop, then I'm afraid you've got the wrong guy. Probably just have one of those faces." Montag replied, cool as ever, though he was almost taken aback by Carol's musing. He was almost certain that he'd never met, or even seen, this woman in his life. That being said, despite his fairly sharp memory, many of the names and faces that he'd seen, or even been acquainted with, during his time with the police blurred since he'd left it. Almost like it had all been a dream, where the right thought or trigger could cause you to remember, but otherwise it was just bits and pieces. It was something he wouldn't properly dwell on for too long.

All of a sudden, Carol was behind him with a practiced agility that any hardened cop or criminal would associate with danger. Eduard stood completely still though, unmoved and seemingly unfazed, staring off in front of him as if she'd never moved. Even as she leaned into his ear to speak directly to him, getting so intimately close that he felt her warm breath run down the side of his face, he didn't even twitch.

And then, Carol stopped speaking. Despite the sounds of hustle and bustle going on in the kitchen, and even distantly outside, the world seemed completely silent to Montag in those moments, where nothing was said. It was in those moments, that he bowed his head slightly, directing his eyeline to the floor enough so that his body was still mostly in his peripheral vision, and his hands slipped down casually into his pockets. His right hand descended ever so slightly lower, feeling out the pistol holstered to his leg and taking a light, but firm grip on it. Countless thoughts and outcomes of possible actions raced through his head like a bullet as his index finger edged closer and closer to the trigger, and-

He felt Carol's hand push him forward from his back, completely interrupting his train of mind. He snapped back into first gear, abruptly releasing his grip on the pistol and bringing his right hand up by an inch, away from it. The push forced him forward only by a pace, but the message was clear. Unless he made things needlessly chaotic, he wasn't going to win this one. Not yet at least.

Letting out a small sigh, Montag took up the plate once more before speaking, "My job is to serve. That's all. Don't put yourself in my way, and I won't put myself in yours, whoever you are. Now, if you don't mind, I'm getting a new dish of steak. This one's gone cold." And with that, he walked out of the laundry room, doing his best to ignore the eyes that continued to stare at him, until he was lost again in a mirage of smoke, steam and flame.

Barring everything else that had just happened, at least now he knew the direct way up to Marie. The next thing now was to get up there, preferably without being noticed by Carol and the other tattoo-bearers. He walked through the busy aisles of the kitchen again, trying to mix in with the crowd while calculating his every move to make sure he didn't make himself noticeable. Apart from that, the next thing that was on his mind was the guarded staircase, which he was gradually getting himself closer and closer to. He peeked over and around heads and shoulders to get a premature view of it, and the guards that stood before it. Eduard moved with a slight sense of haste. If Carol and her associates were the real threat here, then at this point he knew there wasn't much time left. The stakes were high and the clocks were most certainly ticking.

Thomas’s response confused Abigail even more and it was painted all over her face - it was the face of a child who was surrounded and scolded by parents for some mistake or a misdeed - but the child was not entirely sure what they did wrong, and what even happened in the first place. Thomas, barely holding down shi temper to not to shout back at Abigail, left her in some sort of a stupor with a dumbfounded expression shaped on her face and eyes staring back in an inability to find a proper reply. She simply did not know what to say and how; this man standing before her was indeed just a mere man, but a man holding a mass of power as everybody knew; and funnily enough she was pinned down by that trick Abigail pulled; ironically enough she could not even process and acknowledge what she managed to accomplish this day. A politician never was to be born in her.
For better or worse.

“Ah..”, she tried to speak up once again, raising her hand as if trying to make the mayor to stop, but similarly to a moment ago Thomas simply did not allow her to - it seemed he already has decided everything, everyone’s positions, agendas and actions and set himself to solve the occured problem as fast as possible; preferably instantly. With a paycheck.

Thomas pulled out a checkbook out of his pocket and was quickly to fill it in - a motion very quick and made almost automatically, almost with no thought to be caught behind it; Abigail again tried to compose something to say, simply to not to make herself look so lost in this situation, but a check was quickly shoved into her hand as if almost to take this position from her. After all, she did ask for a donation and that motion kickstarted a rain of thoughts overwhelming her mind, causing spiral of doubts on what did she do, how did she do it, and what to do now.
What did she manage to achieve?

A girl steps onto the balcony to observe the ruckus and her father amidst it. Here she was. So close and so far at the same time. Abigail’s actual goal, the girl she was tasked to save - Marie. Abigail looked up to observe her - a really pretty young girl, delicate and almost ethereal in appearance, with gentle soft features, accentuated by the expression of amusement and boredom mixed together on her face. Abigail did not even notice the bickering between the girl and her father at first, stuck in her own thoughts over the stillness of this moment.
They both looked absent looking at each other, each of them deep in their thoughts.
Amusing come to think of it, considering both of them were screamed at by Thomas.

Soon enough the man started to take his leave and the girl disappeared into the depth of her room as well. Suddenly Abigail was free from the yoke of her confusion and the world became clear once again. There was little action to take, but the most important one. Abigail looked at Thomas slowly moving away from her sight and it was clear that this stubborn man would not listen to her any longer, not after what she pulled. Abigail pulled the watch she was given to see the time she had on her hand; but even without looking at the clock’s arms it was clear to her there was not much - she wasted too much time with this and given the girl was still in the villa, Montag did not manage to reach her yet. The stunt she pulled to give the man a clear opening could also work against them in the long perspective.
No matter.

She only waited for Thomas to get away from him to see her anymore - the aftermath of her actions still lingered in the air and it vibrated and people present still confused themselves by what just happened, so the Mayor had to attend them and waste his time with them, probably much to his annoyance. Even some more time was won for Abigail to act. She looked around, observing the place she was pulled in by the Mayor: a back yard of the villa, isolated and secluded away from prying eyes, not to be seen by anybody - ironically enough by pulling her here for a private talk Thomas only made her job easier. Just in front of her there was a back entrance, open and ready to be used and nobody around as Thomas himself has left the area. That entrance was probably already used by Montag before.

"I 'ope ye're around, Montah'. Tis's time we get the girl out already..", she mumbled under her breath as she carefully opened the back door to the villa and sneaked inside. It was an opening in itself for the priest as she stepped inside the building, making use of that confusion and looking around the place for the stairs, trying to avoid all the attention on her persona, but sparing no more time to waste - they wasted enough already. Unlike Montag's, her appearance would of course attract some attention given she was to appear amidst the room for the staff, but she made sure to be hasty and stubborn enough - looking around around for the sign of staircase and Montag both.
"I sure em hope ye're not in a trouble.."

Shadows grew longer as the faint dusk light of the setting sun had long disappeared. It's 9pm. Midnight is coming soon and a life will be taken in its passing.

The string was pulled and the fates held it close with a strict hand, poised to cut.

---

Montag's dismissal did not phase Carol. In fact the strange woman seemed more intrigued by being put off, her eyes never losing sight of him as the detective turned to leave.

For the first time she looked away from Montag to give a glance at one of her tattooed associates. A man who had been reclining against a wall in the background of the interaction. He would stand up and march forward, past the guards who were as still as statues. He too was dressed in the white sleeves and red vests of waiter staff, making it strange he was able to bypass security staff so easily.

He did not need police experience to understand what was happening here, Carol and her team had access that he didn't. Access they probably didn't deserve considering they were supposedly staff just like him. They were able to go upstairs with no trouble despite the guards. Most concerning was Marie on the second floor of Meropis who Carol's team got closer to.

"You shouldn't turn your back on me, fuzz boy." Carol however, was staying put.

"Do you think you were the only one sent here? I know things you don't. You should have left while you still have the chance, because after tonight your life will never be the same again."

Time came to a crawl. Carol would grip Montag's hand very suddenly and with alarming strength. The noise of the kitchen disappeared, with the lights of the hallways going out. The color of the world receded and was replaced with a monolithic black and white that left only the bright green of Carol's eyes as the last source of color in Montag's perspective. A long and loud drone could be heard, like an object falling through an empty ship. Deep hums of a great metal beast that was no where in view, throbbing in the boy's ears. The witch had done something to him with that touch, his skin felt about to burn.

"Do you feel the hand of Phobos going through you? Your mortal flesh vulnerable and exposed. Phobos and Deimos ruling over your heart, filling your entire being with fear, falling forever..."

Carol's words began to echo, growing further away. Eduard felt he was falling, cast down backward into an endless hallway. The hallway he had passed through on his way here to be exact. Montag himself remained horizontal while the hallway had been tipped vertically down. Paintings, furniture, and lamps would stay still and static, uncaring of the effects of gravity. Stuck in a warp of familiar reality and sent falling into an endless loop. The strong vision was abrupt and mind consuming, all from a simple touch of the woman's hand. Carol intended to have the boy suffer for his intrusion and to do away with him with this mental torment. The world he inhabited previously had been replaced with this terrifying vision that consumed his being.

Luckily, Montag was no longer on his own. Coming through the backyard entrance was Abigail who had recently left her meeting with Thomas. She was in a perfect sight to view what was happening to Montag and the perpetrator Carol. It was up to both of them as to how they'd deal with this incomprehensible threat. The priestess could see the black tattoo pulsing and swelling larger as Carol hummed some unfamiliar and creepy tune. None of the bystanders looked to be doing anything in the way of helping Montag.

There was no time left for her to spare on anything. It was running short on her, slipping through her efforts, through her attempts to make haste. The only thing in her mind that kept her hopes alive and going was that Montag was already on his way to help the girl - after all there was quite a lot of time she spent on distracting most of the guards and police workers in here, the mayor himself and the various guests he had in the villa - who were most certainly quite amused by the display of the poor to come on the party; most certainly in a way how a person would be amused by a theatrical performance.

She was sure there was an opening large enough for the detective to act. Even though she herself remained rather useless to the whole operation in terms of action, she could at least win some time. Such was her mindset when she opened the door to the villa in full determination to get to the second floor and reunite with Montag as soon as possible.
Soon enough though that mindset was taken away from her.

Through the ruckus in the kitchen she saw Montag, held down by a woman with a clearly seen pulsating tattoo on her neck - the pulsating with dim and deep blackness, swelling, almost shining on the surface of the skin. Abigail could have sworn she saw what she saw, even if her mind was not giving a space for that seen image to be processed through anyhow. It was alien, it was not meant to be - yet there it was.
So were the woman’s words.

It was unheard and impossible to make sense out of - but what Abigail looked as clear was the eyes of Montag locked onto woman’s in a gaze hazy and almost lost to its owner. She knew that haze in a life mundane - opium, alcohol. That looked the same, but it felt different, Abigail could not really understand why, her mind could not make any direct understanding on what was going on, yet her guts - and frankly her fate - were screaming that something was wrong. The pulsation of the woman’s tattoo only made this feeling stronger and more intense - it was as if something inside of Abigail’s heart was making her heart to rush more intense, and that tensity was speaking to her on some deeper, inner level of her entire being and existence.

Usually people would call it an animal within, a rageful instinct driven beast. But in that case, Abigail felt something different from that. Something that spoke to her in the language of faith. She was not able to put it into words, she only knew it like she knew how to breathe.
Whatever was happening to Montag was wrong.

And so her body moved accordingly. Woman’s body spoke of danger, her words unheard were spoken like a venom to drop into Montag, and there was only one clear thing to do - to stop her. Abigail rushed through the kitchen, closer to Montag, trying to push through the bystanders, various cooks and waiters running around, stumbling as she went, getting up on her feet again and in that motion, clinging onto one of the waiters and pushing him right into that woman’s aiming to stop her from holding Montag by hand and talking this venom into his mind.
Next thing Abigail did was to grab onto Montag’s hand and pull him away from the woman, trying to break that weird connection of their eyes.

"What-? Argh!"

The plate of steak slipped out of Montag's hand as a burning sensation emanated from Carol's grip on his hand and made its way around his body, enveloping him and overwhelming him. Before he knew it, and let alone do anything to stop it, he was cast into a trance. Tinnitus filled his ears as all other noise was seemingly sucked out, along with all the colours of the world around him, save for a pair of imposing green eyes piercing into him. And that's when the falling sensation began.

Eduard's stomach dropped, a nauseating feeling coming over the detective as reality warped around him; cast down vertically through an endlessly repeating hallway, the very one he'd passed through just before, while other objects defied gravity and teased him with their stability as he fell further and further down into the void.

The one noise he continued to hear was the teasing, but threatening, voice of Carol as she continued to speak to him while he fell deeper into the trance. Though he couldn't see her, her words remained omnipresent around him, as though she was in complete control of the space around him. Thinking itself was a difficult task for Montag at this point, but as Carol's voice reverberated against the piercing ringing the young man could also hear, he could certainly ascertain that somehow she'd taken a hold on his perspective of reality.

He tried to reach into his pocket for the weapon he'd been concealing, in a perhaps slightly irrational attempt to take some kind of hold on the situation, but it was no use. To even strain a little bit against whatever force he was surrounded by came with that same almighty burning that had flared up under his skin before, as though a snake's venom was rushing ruthlessly through his body. And even then, Eduard knew that wasn't the way to handle this. Not when he was like this.

But then, what was he supposed to do? Who was this woman and her associates, and what had she done to him? Who were Phobos and Deimos? Those two names lingered on in his stunted thoughts, as the man felt himself be consumed further and further by whatever spell had been cast on him. Perhaps he was the one fated to die in place of Marie.

"Don't be upset at what the Fates will choose, if you choose not to kill."

Whatever the Fates had decided, so be it.

And it was split seconds after that thought that the endless void-like corridor was breached, a hand reaching in to grab his arm and pulling on it hastily, as though to break him out of his trance. What was this? Some kind of divine intervention? Had the Fates changed their mind? Perhaps a happy accident? Or... something, or someone else perhaps.

Whatever it was it seemed to be helping; he could feel his falling speed slowing, and vague hearing, as though he were deep underwater, return to his ears to replace the ringing and Carol's voice. He could feel the trance... beginning to fail.