Damian didn’t think twice about his answer, not when such a temptation had been laid before him. Lunging at Arlette’s bleeding wrist, he grabbed her arm with both hands and began to greedily slurp at the wound, his mind going black as soon as the red fluid graced his tongue.

It was unlike anything he had tasted in his life. It was pure ambrosia, red nectar that tasted sweeter and more vibrant than any human’s blood. He gasped for breath between gulps, growing more frenzied as he drank deep. He could feel the burning pain in his leg soothe and fade away as his flesh knitted together. As the hot fluid coursed down his throat, he began to hear his own sluggish heartbeat in his head, but before long, Arlette planted a hand on his forehead and forced him back.

“That’s quite enough. Agent Johnston, a stim, if you would,” the Succubus sighed, gesturing to her gun-toting subordinate.

The BEDLAM agent silently handed her a metallic syringe, which she swiftly injected into her arm. Before long, the cut in her wrist sealed and faded away, causing Damian to glance down at his own healed wound.

“Guess you an’ me ain’t all that different,” he gasped breathlessly, feeling his strength return as he wiped his face clean.

“More alike than you’d realise. My people also possess the ability to metabolise blood, but that’s besides the point. I take it you’re willing to hear me out?”

With his leg healed, the vampire grunted and climbed to his feet, bringing himself to the Succubus’ eye level. All around him, the soldiers raised their guns, but with a silent nod from their boss, they stood down.

“Fine. Let’s hear it,” Damian sighed, nervously eyeing up the plethora of submachineguns aimed at him.

With a nod and a crooked finger, Arlette gestured for him to follow her towards the alley.

“Know you of the Atlantis Terminal, Damian?” she asked, clasping her hands behind her back.

“I ain’t all that caught up on current affairs,” he grumbled in reply, scratching his nose with his pinky.

“Hm. I thought as much. Allow me to explain, then.”

She pulled a phone from her pocket and tapped the screen a few times, bringing up a holographic display of the globe. Spinning it around, she pointed at the large body of water between a continent that Damian recognised as America, and another one that he didn’t know.

“Five years ago – in the final quarter of 2060 – a huge structure rose from the centre of the Atlantic ocean, extending and expanding rapidly until it formed a bridge between America and Europe.”

As she spoke, a bridge appeared on the holograph, spanning the entirety of the ocean. Tapping a large circular structure in the centre, Arlette continued her explanation.

“This central structure in known as the Atlantis Terminal, and we found that its construction predates human life itself. Through some form of ancient technology or magic, it has lain hidden beneath the ocean for over 250,000 years, give or take.”

“So some dank ruins popped outta the sea. What’s that got to do with me?”

She shot him an irate look as they stepped into the gloom of the alley.

“They’re not just ‘dank ruins’. The Atlantis Terminal contained a gateway that connects our world – Earth – to another we were ignorant of. Gaia,” she continued, collapsing the holograph.

“Eh?”

“A planet with a population of around 12 billion, filled with countless races only heard about in storybooks. Elves, dwarves, orcs and more besides. Over there, they were locked in a state of constant war. But with the CUN’s intervention, Gaia’s population was quelled, and within a few short years, her people – the fae, as they are called – were given limited access to Earth. To move here, and to experience what it has to offer.”

Damian snorted.

“You’re puttin’ me to sleep here.”

“Laws were put in place to protect this cross-dimensional migrants. Laws that protect them from coming to harm at the hands of humans or demons while they’re on Earth.”

Her face suddenly went dark.

“While they’re here, the fae cannot carry weapons, work jobs that haven’t been governmentally approved, or transport goods from their home plane. Not that many adhere to these sanctions, and with the law protecting them, these unscrupulous fae are given free reign to do what they want. Coupled with many crime syndicates here on Earth that exploit the fae’s immunity for their own gains, law enforcement is left with a problem.”

They stepped out onto a desolate street, where a convoy of dark armoured cars had been parked by the side of the road. Between them, a sleek sportscar sat with its doors open, guarded by two more BEDLAM agents.

“I don’t get ya,” Damian sighed, scratching the back of his head.

Arlette sighed and massaged her temples.

“Allow me to give you an example. Say a group of elves were to hold up a store with weapons they obtained off the black market, what could law enforcement do? Human armed response teams would be forbidden from harming the fae. Demon operatives would not be able to contend with their firearms. And agencies couldn’t hire fae to combat their fellow fae, as they are legally forbidden from being armed. So what do they do?”

She turned on her heel and gave him a meaningful look, but Damian just shrugged, causing the demon to sigh disappointedly.

“BEDLAM was formed for this reason, but we’ve had little success so far in stopping these kinds of crimes. As things stands, we currently only operate in Scorched Sands, due to the high concentration of fae here. We may thank corporate interest in cheap labour for that, I assume,” Arlette continued, pulling a cigarette case from her coat pocket.

Popping one into her mouth, the Succubus ignited it with a lighter and took a deep drag before blowing a cloud of pink smoke into the vampire’s face. It smelled sickly sweet.

“After agonising over this dilemma for nigh-on half a decade, I finally had a marvelous idea. If we can’t employ fae, demons are ineffective and humans can’t harm them, then we merely have to employ those who don’t fall under any of those three categories.”

She grinned, cigarette clenched tight between sharp teeth.

“Necrophages.”

Damian blinked a few times, unsure of what she had just said,

“Necro-whats?”

Shaking her head, Arlette stepped around to her car’s boot and pulled out a huge sheet of clear plastic. Placing it over the vehicle’s rear seats, she gestured for Damian to get in.

“Don’t want you staining the upholstery,” she explained, getting into the driver’s seat.

As the various BEDLAM agents each filed into their own vehicles, Damian swallowed hard and awkwardly clambered into the back seat of Arlette’s sportscar, causing the protective plastic to crinkle and rustle as he shuffled about uncomfortably.

“Seatbelt,” Arlette commanded, glaring at him in the rear-view mirror.

“What’s that?”

“… Never mind. Just shut up and listen.”

As they pulled away from the desolate street, Damian watched through the car’s tinted windows as the other armoured vehicles formed a convoy behind them.

“Now, there are certain species of fae that are capable of producing progeny via unconventional means. Typically through bloodborne infections, but also via methods such as posthumous parasite infections or spiritual possession,” the Succubus explained, taking a left out of the abandoned district.

“That’s a lotta big words, McArva,” Damian replied, feeling rather on edge as they headed towards a busy road.

She sighed once more,

“Let’s take the nosferatu, then. When a living individual drinks their blood, they undergo a rather drastic transformation, becoming what we know as vampires. You.”

“I don’t remember drinkin’ from no nosfu- nosf- whatever the fuck ya just said.”

“Mm, indeed. You’re a bit of a special case. A masterless vampire is quite unheard of…”

She shook her head and pulled into oncoming traffic, earning a chorus of indignant beeping from the cars all around them.

“A vampire is a kind of necrophage, meaning you are a subspecies that feeds off the living. Legally, not a kind of fae or human. Meaning that if you were to attack a dwarf or a grimalkyne, you couldn’t be prosecuted. You’d be killed on the spot, of course, but that won’t be an issue if you take my offer,” spoke Arlette, readjusting her mirror.

“Yeah, you’ve mention this offer a coupla times now. What exactly do ya need me for?” Damian asked, yawning.

Her eyes flashed as smoke coiled from her nostrils.

“I’m building a squad of special operatives within BEDLAM. Necrophages, one and all. Capable of bypassing protectives laws and delivering justice unto those who think they can avoid it. It’s called the Special Sixth Division, and I want you as its first agent.”

She was gripping the steering wheel frighteningly tight. He could see her knuckles whitening.

Damian raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s why ya tracked me down… What’s in it for me?”

“Simple. In exchange for your co-operation, BEDLAM will supply you with a place to stay, a steady supply of blood and more general freedom in your life.”

He folded his arms.

“And if I don’t wanna be your attack dog?”

“Even simpler. I drive you outside of town and chain you up before the rising sun.”

The way she spoke those words sent chills up Damian’s spine. Clearing his throat nervously, he slumped back into his seat.

“… Fine… Guess I ain’t got much choice…”

Arlette shook her head.

“Not so fast. I’ll need to gauge your abilities first.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Check beneath your seat.”

Raising an eyebrow, he leaned forward and fumbled with the catch on a compartment beneath the sportscar’s backseats. Pulling it upon, he was surprised to find a machete lying there, freshly sharpened and gleaming in the flashing streetlight.

“I just need you to kill something for me.”