Eric barely stopped moving after exiting the hearse. The first step was to pack up all the weaponry that he was going to need. Heading into his workshop, he picked a different gun off of the wall and slipped it into his hip holster. Stopping to look at two metal, saucer-shaped disks on the workbench, he grabbed them. Sure, they were prototypes, but even on the off chance that they’d work, it was worth it.

Running a shaky hand through his hair, he winced as he realized that he hadn’t done anything about the burns on his hands. Okay, one didn’t matter, as it was made of metal. But the other was still flesh and was now reminding him exactly how badly real flesh could sting.

“Eric?” he heard from behind him.

Turning, he saw Muse standing at the door. He let out a deep sigh. The blue-haired ghost was still a wild card in his book. Sweet girl, but he didn't know where her loyalties lay. Hopefully somewhere else, for her sake. “Don’t try and talk me out of this.”

“Talk you out of what?”

“I’m going to go get Victor, I can’t...” Eric pulled in a shaky breath. He tried to keep from letting it get to him, tried to keep the fear and pain at bay. He felt Muse put her hands gently on his shoulders. Meeting her eyes, he saw nothing but worry.

“I won’t try and stop you... but... Eric. Is this smart...? So soon?”

“I have to. Before-”

“It’s just past dawn. If you go and save him, and he’s wounded, he’ll die in the sunlight. You should at least wait until dark...”

Eric pulled in another wavering breath and rubbed fiercely at his eyes with the back of his arm. He was glad at least it was Muse standing here, and not Mal or Isaac. The two other men would only make fun of him, or look down at him, for being so upset. They didn’t get it. They didn’t understand. Mal was an only kid, and like hell, if Isaac gave a shit about any of his so-called family.

But she had a point.

“So... so I have… it’s a three-hour drive… so I have like, five hours.. to pack up.. and then... and then I’m-”

“We’re.”

“What?”

“We’re going to go get him. I’m not letting you go in there alone, and... even as suicidal and stupid this is, well, I’m already dead, so I can’t commit suicide.” Muse smiled faintly, making a weak attempt at a joke. “So I should at least go and help you... besides, I can move around in there a lot faster than you can.”

“Even then, you’re going to be at risk.”

“I know. But, hey.” Muse pulled him into a hug. He put his arms around her gratefully, resting his head on her shoulder. “That’s what friends are for. And you guys are my friends... Even if Isaac has me here on a leash, I care about you guys.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do, stupid.”

Eric chuckled slightly and lifted his head, pulling in a rush of air and wiping his eyes. “I have a lot of stuff to get done before we go. Thanks, Muse... really.”

“Thank me after we get back,” she replied thinly. Flicking her head to toss her blue hair away from her face, she shot him a sympathetic smile. Eric found himself oddly flattered that she was willing to risk herself for Vic, for himself.

“You’re a cool chick, woman. Even if you do keep trying to scare the shit out of me.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Victor groaned, lifting his head weakly as he felt a burning sensation ripping down his arms. He lifted his head further, blinking to try to focus his eyes. He came to the slow realization that he was not laying down - but upright. He looked up slowly and saw his arms locked in cuffs, suspended from the ceiling by large, heavy-duty metal chains. He could feel spikes on the inside of the cuffs boring into his flesh, eyeing the dried blood encrusted on his arms where it had run down them.

The first sensation that washed over Victor was the pain. The second was the hunger. The burns from the explosion were mostly gone, but his body had used up everything he had in the process. He groggily tried to remember what had happened. A beep. He moved, fast as he could, but not fast enough. At least it seemed to have saved his life.

For now.

He looked down at the floor for a long time, and, with an act of sheer will, put his feet back underneath him, then pushed himself up. He cried out in pain as he felt his legs protest the move, but the pressure on his arms and his shoulders slackened. Even if the motion only transferred the pain, it was worth it. At least it no longer felt like his arms were on fire.

The gnawing in his stomach and muscles, though, was another matter. The hunger was tugging at him and made it hard to focus on what was going on around him.

"You're awake."

He suddenly realized that a grizzled, middle-aged man with graying brown hair and a grim expression stood in front of him. The bright overhead lights in the room glint off the greenish chain-mail the man was wearing.

"Uriel," Victor managed to hiss out.

"Oh, good, good, you can talk as well. I thought you were too burned to heal." Uriel walked closer and walked around him once, surveying the vampire.

Victor groaned and turned his head, trying to take stock of where he was. Suspended in the center of the room, he could barely see to the edges - the room was dimly lit, and dingy, the paint on the wall starting to crack. He noticed a crucifix mounted on the single door. He made the mistake of looking up at the fluorescent lighting and winced in pain as even the dim light hurt his eyes.

"Wh'm I alive...?" Victor turned his attention back to the Crusader. Uriel walked over to a table by one wall and started to peruse the various items laying atop it.

"Bait," the other man said in his gruff, matter-of-fact tone.

"Isaac won' be.... be stupid enough..." Victor hissed in pain again as one of the spikes shifted in his arm, grinding against his wrist bone.

"Honestly, insomuch as it involves you, it's not Isaac we're aiming for. Well, not right now..." Uriel picked up a long silver skewer and held it up to the light. "We know it's only a matter of time before someone from your outfit shows up, and we're counting on them bringing the spirit."

"Whuh...?" He felt ill like he wanted to hurl. It felt like his stomach was trying to devour his kidneys. It probably was.

"We know what the blue-haired girl is. We know she's a ghost - we’re not stupid, you know. We've decided to neutralize Isaac's new threat before she becomes a larger issue." Uriel walked up to him, still holding the skewer. With a smile that wouldn't have been cruel if it weren't for the look in his eyes, he slowly shoved the skewer into Victor's side, slipping it between two of his ribs.

Victor hissed as he felt the silver work its way through his ribs into one of his lungs - the burning, tearing, searing pain ripping through his nerve endings. He arched his back, roaring in pain again as Uriel quickly yanked the skewer out. Blood oozed down his side, dark and slow moving. There wasn’t much left for him to bleed. Victor snarled at the Crusader and pulled against his restraints, instantly regretting it. He straightened himself up again as much as he could to try and relieve the strain on his wrists.

"I'll assure you that I don't enjoy this." Uriel turned the skewer over in his hands.

"Mmm, too bad."

"Hum?" Uriel blinked.

"'Cause I do." Victor grinned at him, flashing his fangs, and snapped his head forward - biting at the air. "Do it again, handsome... Don't be a tease." Victor growled deep in his throat, a deep rumbling purr that was anything but human. If he couldn’t win, he could provoke. And damn, he was good at pushing people’s buttons. “C’mon, sexy... c'mon."

Uriel wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned and walked away, dropping the skewer on the table and exiting the room. Muttering to himself, he shut the door behind him to the sound of Victor's shrill, hoarse laughter.

Ezekiel sat, hunched over the jar in the living room. He was petting the side of it slowly. "Oh, I know. I know," he giggled at some private joke.

"Ezekiel."

The little man looked up, snickered and waved. "Hi, Isaac! Whassup?"

Isaac crouched down in front of him and looked at the man intently. "I need you to do something for me. I want you to tell me where she is."

"Um? Um... they're going to go invade a base, and... and... Yeeeeeah..." Ezekiel looked down at the jar in his lap. "It's going to be like Jack the Ripper had happy hour! Rippy rippy, munchy munchy. Om nom nom nom!"

"No, not Muse."

"OoOooohh... her. I told you I can't... that's cheating. Things can't go out of order! Then you'd be like me. I'm all in the wrong order... Or at least, that's what Roger says. We're both all out-of-order. That's why he plays Scrabble with me. 'Cause we're out-of-order. He keeps eating all the tiles..." Ezekiel sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose. "You don't want to be Mr. MacCheaterpants, do you?" Ezekiel squealed as Isaac growled at him, and made a move as if to throttle him. He recoiled and whimpered in fear.

Isaac only let out a long sigh of defeat and lowered his hand, standing up. "Never mind..."

"Oh! Oh. Oooooh. See, see, I see what you're doing... I don't think it'll work though,” Ezekiel crooned, giggled, and looked down at the jar in his lap. "What do you think Mr. Blinky?"

"What are you seeing, Ezekiel?"

"I see... I see him. With her. All blues and blacks and blacks and greens and whites and... a tennis ball. Awwww, how cute. They're cute in... in a weird 'eat your face' kinda way."

"Ezekiel. With whom? With-"

"Nooo, not her. Not yours. I can't tell you where she is. I'm talking about his. He's after her, not her. Heheheee... I like pronouns. Don't you? No no, silly. Ghostie! Ghostie and him. Together. Together in his world, and... and sooner than you'd think. Sooorrry... Please play again, no purchase necessary!" Ezekiel snickered and hugged the jar closer to him, cuddling it with his eyes shut like it was a stuffed animal.

Isaac turned, a dark expression across his features. He gripped the doorframe hard enough that his knuckles turned white. "You're sure?"

"Uhhuh!" Ezekiel smiled brightly at him.

Isaac started up the stairs to his study, preparing himself for a long night.

"My bologna has a first name, is B-A-C-O-N..."

Victor pulled in a sharp hiss of pain. His back arched back against the restraints holding him dangling from the ceiling. Fresh blood had begun to run down his arms as he struggled against the chains. He looked down at the burning hot branding iron searing into his flesh. Snarling, Victor hissed at the man in front of him, his fangs distended from the rest of his teeth.

“I am always impressed with how much damage you hellspawn can withstand. Although rumor is your so-called ‘benefactor’ Radu could withstand worlds more than this. You’re but a child, even to them.” Uriel pulled the brand away slowly, watching the skin stuck to it stretch and then rip away from the hot metal. He watched the flesh underneath as it oozed, the smell of seared meat rising into the air.

Victor remained silent, hate boiling in his eyes. His breathing was stopped completely - he didn't need to breathe if he wasn't talking. At the moment, breathing only made the pain worse.

“Tell me vampire, how many people have you killed?" When Victor didn't respond, Uriel shook his head. "We have at least three dozen confirmed kills associated to you. That's not counting anything from your 'employment' with Isaac. At least three dozen people... who you fed on until they died." Uriel made a 'tsk' noise and walked away to the table by the wall. "A shame, really.” He picked up a knife from the tray, and dropped the brand into a bucket of water, causing it to hiss sharply as it flash-cooled.

Uriel walked back and held the knife up to Victor’s face, slowly spinning it around, watching the light shine and glint off of the metal. The vampire continued to try to drop him dead with a glare.

“Seems a shame that Satan put all this effort into a creature who knows nothing but how to cause death...” Uriel ran the knife’s sharp edge along Victor’s chest, cutting a red line down the flesh. He slipped the knife under the layer of flesh and pulled, slowly peeling the skin from the muscle. Victor screamed through clenched teeth, forcing himself to cut off the scream sharply, despite the pain. He yanked on the chains, not caring about the pain in his wrists and hissed inhumanly at the Crusader in front of him.

“I do not delight in torture, vampire - but you will pay for what you have caused - I will return it to you tenfold.” Uriel cut the section of skin off of his chest and threw it aside. It fell to the ground with the sound of a damp cloth impacting the stone floor. “Although it looks like you’re running out of time.” Uriel chuckled and dug the point of the knife into the pale whitish-pink exposed muscle below.

Muse could have gone the rest of her existence happy without ever seeing this place again. Looking down at the army base, she let out a long breath. It looked like nothing had happened. They were certainly pretty fast at cleaning everything up. Only a few remaining smears of blood decorated the wall. The bulbs had been replaced, and the only other sign that anything had happened, was the charred gutted skeletal remains of the cement building that had detonated.

"I don't think I like this plan. Can I tell you how much I don't like this plan?"

"What're you worried about - it's not like they can shoot you."

"They can shoot you, though."

"I'll be fine. This is why you're going first. Go inside, do... I don't know, something, and I’ll get Victor out.”

“You really haven’t thought this through.” Muse looked at him and let out a small nervous laugh. There was no helping the situation. “Fine. I'm going."

Drifting down the hill, she floated up and over the wall. She looked over at the guards - they were more than a little ominous in their white hoods, fabric tabards, and large vicious looking guns. A gold cross was emblazoned on across each of the guard's tabards. She tried her best not to remember the sight of what she had seen happen to the other men who looked just like them.

Moving past the wall into the complex, she took stock of the place. The only building that seemed at all sizable or of any note was a large stone church in the very center of it. It seemed like a good of a place as any to start.

Slipping through the walls of the church, she found herself amidst wooden pews and flickering candelabras. Marble statues of, well, she could only guess that they were important religious figures, dotted the walls. She recognized the big ones - Mary, Jesus - but after that, she was pretty much clueless. After exploring the first floor and finding no one, she pressed herself down through the floor.

Popping into what she could only guess was a pantry, she meandered through the boxes of spaghetti sauce and canned fruit out to the other side. The basement looked disappointingly nondescript. It had more security cameras than most, yes, and more large metal doors, but other than that, she saw fundamentally no-one and nothing of interest.

Another floor down, she finally found something unusual. The walls seemed to glow with a strange, mild, green glow. She had seen a lot of things glow - but never walls, never inanimate objects. Victor was nowhere else to be found. If he was alive, he had to be through here. But she had no idea what else she'd find.

She had the distinct sensation that this was a horrid, epic, asinine idea.

Screw it.

What’s the worse that’ll happen?

It’s not like I can die again.

Oblivion?

Whatever.

Pain?

Big deal.

Christ - once a goth, always a goth I guess.

Whelp - here goes...

Muse floated through the wall and instantly contacted the floor with a hard thump. She stood up quickly and looked around in panic as she realized that somehow she was in physical form. She stood there by the wall and found herself staring at men in armor... who were staring back at her.

The room was awkwardly quiet.

“... Pizza delivery?” Muse cracked a nervous smile.

She would never forget the huge armored figure that stomped towards her. Before she could react, Michael was next to her, grabbing her by the hair. Her body jerked as he threw her into the center of the room. She hit the ground hard and skidded to a halt. She tried to phase out her body, but couldn’t. She stood up and turned around, her head snapping to the side as Michael punched her in the jaw, the force knocking her again to the ground. He stood over her, one gauntleted hand holding her fishnet shirt, the other still gripped in a fist. Her face jerked to the side as he punched her a second time.

"Y'know that really isn't doing any good," Muse said flatly.

"Are we done yet? I really wanna leave," whined a young female voice.

"Please, Raphael," came the voice of another woman.

Muse only laughed. Her head snapped to the side again. "Dude - quit it.” Her head rocked to the side again as he punched her for the fourth time. “I can't feel it. So unless you're using me as your home gym, cut it out."

Her head snapped to the side again.

“Would it help you feel more motivated if I kept saying ‘ow?’”

The man behind the armor hesitated, then dropped her to the ground. She looked up at him looming over her, staring down at her from behind the gold cross emblazoned on his helm. He was a frightening sight, she had to admit. He was huge in that suit of armor and looked completely inhuman.

Michael suddenly reached down and grabbed Muse by the arms. Not used to having to dodge things, Muse yelped again in surprise. Whipping her around onto her stomach, she suddenly found herself examining the tile flooring from far too close. Muse heard the snapping of restraints onto her wrists. When she tried to pull her arms apart, she found herself unable to move them.

She laid there quietly for a moment, then yanked on her wrists a few times. She tried to phase out again, but couldn't. She seemed somehow stuck in physical form. This was about eight different kinds of 'not good.' "So, uh, anyone want to tell me how you’re doing this neat trick? Whoa-” Muse yelped again as Michael wrenched her back up to her feet and shoved her again towards the center of the room.

Muse planted her feet, but she weighed barely anything and was no match for the bigger man. She turned to snap at Michael but met his fist instead. She turned her head to glare at him.

“Seriously - cut it out - enough with the punching. It doesn’t do anything. It's just really annoying."

“Unholy undead creature,” Michael snarled down at her, his voice sounding hollow and metallic.

“Um.... uppity bible freak?” Muse returned with a cynical smile. She would have piped another one at him, but she found herself suddenly shoved into a chair. Heavy metal boots thumping on the ground, Michael walked around behind her and she heard the click of something else. She tried to stand up and realized that he must have attached her restraints to the chair. She flopped back against the chair. “Whatever,” she mumbled.

Turning her head to quickly scan the room, she finally had time to see who else had been speaking. In the room with them was a young blonde girl - probably fifteen - sitting on a table, wearing a white shirt and red suspenders attached to red pants, loudly chewing gum. Another woman, maybe in her early seventies, leaning on a cane, grey hair pulled back in a neat bun.

Looking back up at Michael, she watched him pull the helm off of his face. She tried not to laugh at what she saw. She had expected someone fearsome. Not someone so baby-faced. His light brown hair was short, a mop of curls pressed down by the helm he was wearing.

“Wow. Well hello, Luke Skywalker. Who’d have guessed that the muscle’d be a pretty boy?” Muse growled in annoyance as her head snapped to the side as the back of Michael's metal gauntlet impacted her head. "Sonnova-"

“Enough," said the older woman to her left.

“Yeah. What she said.” Muse glared up at Michael.

“I am sorry, Zadkiel. You know my temper...” Michael looked down meekly and walked away. Muse sighed and looked up at the old woman and her haggard, worn, yet remarkably kind face. She had more lines from laughing and smiling than frowning. The old woman's brown eyes held a remarkable amount of sparkle and were focused on the ghost in front of her.

Muse leaned back in the chair, seeing no way to fight, and no point in screaming or yelling. She figured that this was the chance Eric needed. While she wasn't really keen on distracting them by being trapped, it was certainly effective none the less. She wasn't sure how many more of them there were wandering around, but there seemed to be a good portion of them here in the room with her.

Michael walked up next to Zadkiel and looked at the older woman curiously. “What are you going to do with it?”

“It? Excuse me? I’m a her, thank you," Muse snapped.

Zadkiel turned her attention back to Muse. “You must excuse Michael, Ghost. What is required of him in the field sometimes removes his social tact.” The old woman smiled at her. “You came for your Master’s minion - I am honestly surprised.”

“Master? Isaac?” Muse cracked up laughing. It was the funniest thing she'd heard in a long time. “Yeah, no, he’s not my master.”

"Isaac commands her. It must be because she's dead," Michael observed.

Muse twisted her head to look at Michael. “Good guess, Sparky. I don’t think they woulda reached that by themselves. Thanks for the input, you saved the day again,” she spat out.

Michael snarled and walked forward, but was stopped by a gesture from Zadkiel. He growled and leaned back against the wall and glared at Muse. “Someday, Ghost - you will rue the day you crossed into darkness. And I will be there to make you suffer God’s wrath.”

“Hey, hun? Look, I hate to break it to you - but you aren’t the star of your own comic book. So you can really stop talking like you are.” Muse looked back up at Zadkiel. “And I’m going to guess you’re the one that’s responsible for my being stuck like this.”

“Correct. You say you aren’t Isaac’s creature. Then why do you serve him?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You are his slave, then,” Zadkiel said simply. “Which makes him your Master - willing or not.”

“Then excuse me if I don’t like the term. Makes me sound like a pet. I get enough of that from Isaac.”

“Hm,” Zadkiel said quietly, flipping slowly through a book in her hands. “So he sent you after his minion.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, 'no'?” Michael narrowed his eyes.

"I'm bored - this is really lame," the blonde girl whined.

"Shut up, Raph," Michael snapped at her.

"Don't tell me to shut up, Mike!"

"Enough, both of you," Zadkiel interrupted firmly. She looked back at Muse with a weary look in her eyes. "You were not sent by Isaac?"

“I came on my own.” Muse shook her head. “I came to get Victor.”

“Why?”

“He’s my friend.”

This brought a laugh out of Michael. Muse turned her attention over to him, and she sighed. “What now, Tin-Can?”

“'Friend'? You creatures are not capable of friendship - you are hellspawn, dredges of corrupted humanity, that is all!” Michael ranted, glaring a hole into the girl in front of him.

“... Right.” Muse looked back up at Zadkiel and leaned forward. “You better up his meds," she whispered loudly.

Michael growled from the wall and started walking towards the door. He reached for the doorknob.

“No!” Zadkiel turned to look at him. “Do not open that door, Michael.”

“I’m stuck in here?” He did not sound pleased.

“At least until I confine her properly, yes.”

“Open the door, Michael,” Muse urged. She almost hoped he’d do it. Pause. A thought. “Wait - confine me? What?”

The old woman smiled again and walked away, limping with her cane slowly to a bookcase by one wall. Zadkiel pulled down a green glass bottle. "Raphael, could you please?"

The little teenage girl slid off of the table and crossed in front of the room, sticking her tongue out at Muse as she walked past.

"And you guys come complete with an idiot cheerleader..." Muse muttered. Raphael went to cut a response at her, but Zadkiel interrupted her before she could. This was all starting to make Muse nervous. She probably should be taking this more seriously - but spouting out sarcastic comments is how she dealt with stress. It often leads to more stress, but, too late to change now.

"Raphael, now, please."

The blonde picked up a little folding table and put it in front of Muse, shooting Muse a bitter glare before walking away.

Muse could only watch as Zadkiel walked back up to her and placed the green glass bottle down on the table. She turned her attention to Zadkiel and then shook her head slowly as a feeling of horror crept up her spine. “You have got to be kidding me...”

“No,” Zadkiel replied calmly.

“You’re going to trap me in a bottle?!”

“Yes.”

“And then what?” Muse asked, struggling against the restraints.

“Drop you into the ocean, maybe. Or bury you at the bottom of a gorge. Or perhaps launch you into space...” Michael growled from the door, staring at her with a glint in his eye.

“You people are screwed up! You’re worse than Isaac!” Muse leaned forward and struggled to pull her arms out of the restraints. She began to thrash. “This isn’t human! I’m not like Isaac! You can’t do this to me!”

“We are the sword and shield of God. We are here to protect the living, breathing innocent. You are dead, unnatural - Isaac uses you for his own perverse goals. You cannot remain in our way,” Michael continued.

Zadkiel opened her book and flipped to what must have been the correct page.

“No!” Muse screamed.