The man in the suit's neck crackled when he cocked his head at them. Ellie shivered beneath his gaze - she felt as if she and Galler were two curious displays at the circus. There was something profoundly wrong about him. The gentle smile, the black suit, impeccable and without even a speck of dirt despite the distance from the nearest town. And the fact that he didn’t seem to be even a bit surprised at encountering them in the abandoned church.

As Ellie pondered the strange situation, the stench of rust continued to permeate the room. She thought it was a windless day, but behind the man in the suit a gusting breeze kept the old dry door from fully closing. The wind carried the scent of iron. That, and the underlying smell of something Ellie vaguely recognized – rotting flesh. As soon as the thought entered her mind, the splashing of frantic feet through sewer water began to fill her ears as she backed closer to Galler’s short yet steady back, headless of the motionless bodies laying behind him.

“Ah. Apologies, seem’s like I forgot to introduce myself.” The man in the suit chuckled with a wryness that did not reach his eyes. “You know how it is. A guy spends all day walkin’ and the dust from the road chokes in his throat as soon as he meets some fellow travelers. My name is Heinser Gelbrich, at your service.” Heinser chuckled once more at a joke only he could hear, and then finished his introduction with a deep bow. Only, as he leaned down in the gesture, Ellie’s heart jumped up towards her mouth as she caught a glimpse of the lapels on Heinser’s suit bend with the movement. At first, only black space could be seen, appearing to show the silky lining that would normally cover the interior of a gentleman’s suit. But then the moonlight revealed what Ellie had thought was only a figment of her imagination, causing her to let out a gasp of surprise.

Faces.

Affixed to the interior of Heinser Gelbrich’s suit were rows of faces.

And, as if he was waiting for that very gasp of surprise, Heinser straightened up with a single fluid motion, shrugging his shoulders while his right hand slipped into the pocket of his dress pants.

“Now that I’ve introduced myself,” Heinser continued, “may I have the pleasure of knowing the names of my fellow travelers?”

At Heinser’s question, Galler remained silent for a few seconds. He cut out a grim form outlined by the harsh moonlight, which strained to reach past the broken stained-glass windows. Ellie finished sidling behind him to relative safety; she felt marginally better, but only just.

“Aye. That would be the proper way of it. Boss Tim would agree. Maybe even ol’ Bert.” Said Galler as he shook his head. “But.” Galler grinned mirthlessly. “Some fucking dandy like you ain’t gonna pull one over on ol’ Galler!” As soon as the last word left Galler’s mouth he moved in a flash, disturbing the rusty air as he raised his hands to beckon to the people behind him, who rose to their feet with expressions devoid of emotion.

“I know why you’re here, dandy-man!” Galler shouted, his fingers tap-tapping out strange rhythms on his palms, the men and women behind him stamping out odd patterns with their bare, tattered feet.

“I hear why you’ve come, dandy-man!” Galler bellowed, his voice growing hoarse and breaking from the sheer volume of his words. As he spoke, Heinser’s left hand slipped into the pocket of his dress pants and the people behind the former gangster tore the nearest wooden pew into club-like lengths without a single sign of exertion.

“I SEE WHAT HAS PUSHED YOU TO FIND US!” Galler screamed, flecks of blood flying out of his throat as he ceased drumming on his palms in favor of madly scatching – no, madly tearing at the scabs that covered his empty eye sockets. Ellie shook from where she took refuge behind her friend as her mind ran from one possibility to the next to find something, anything, that she could do to help. But the now overpowering reek of rotten flesh and rust sent her sinuses reeling back to that day, not all that long ago, that she was carried frantically through the sewers by friends she knew were no longer around; her heart raced and she felt the light was a little more gray than just a moment ago.

From a gap between Galler’s arms and body, Ellie watched as both of Heins- no, the man in the suit’s hands crept out of his pockets. Suddenly, a pair of rough hands entered her vision, scarred hands she immediately recognized as Galler’s. Hands that… she squinted. Hands that had two words scratched onto them with sharp fingernails. Words that wept blood, barely legible.

Get… Mavier…

Ellie furrowed her brows. Get Mavier. Then it felt like a bolt of lightning roared through her brain. She knew that Galler wasn’t stupid. He would have a reason for something like this. And if he wanted her to get Mavier, that strong friend of Mr. Tim’s, then that meant…

That meant he must be near. Somewhere close by.

Her panic immediately transforming to purposeful energy, Ellie gave Galler a quick hug for good luck, and then turned heel, dashing towards the nearest window. As she ran she scooped up a length of wood from the destroyed pew and threw it through the stained glass with a magnificent crashing sound. However, as she leaped through the shattered hole of her own making, she still flinched after hearing Galler roaring with pure, undiluted rage, the sound undercut by a howl of mad laughter from the man in the suit. All she could do now was to find Mavier. And she desperately hoped she could find him in time.