There was nothing pleasant about hospital waiting rooms. They were cold and unpleasant to look at, filled with white walls and uncomfortable blue benches. The air stank of antiseptic that stung the nostrils, and the constant murmuring of doctors and patients was enough to make one's head hurt.

And yet Izzbelle had dutifully sat on one of those uncomfortable benches for hours, until the night transitioned to day, and transitioned straight back to night again. Still dressed in a rent and scorched wedding dress, she got plenty of strange looks, but she didn't care.

There was something about the look in Cobalt's eye that had made an impact on her, though what exactly that impact was, she couldn't tell. Despite his mounting injuries, he powered on through the snow, not stopping once lest Elya bleed out in his arms.

When he finally got her into the hands of the doctors, the first thing he did was go to check on Izzbelle, only to collapse onto the waiting room floor. The last the Oni heard of them, they were both being treated in the ICU.

But if there was one thing that she couldn't get out of her head, it was the sight of Cobalt standing up to her father, teeth red and eyes glinting in the firelight. In that moment, he looked so far removed from the stammering, shuffling, nervous Incubus that could barely raise his voice above the din of a classroom.

She almost found herself falling for him.

But she didn't.

Couldn't have.

The very notion was ridiculous.

What happened at the wedding...

It was just nerves.

Or shock.

Or something like that.

"Agh... no fuckin' way..." Izzbelle sighed, holding her head.

She heard someone gasp.

"I- Izzbelle? Is that you, sweetie?"

Raising an eyebrow, the Oni turned to face whomever was speaking to her, only to have the wind knocked from her lungs as a Succubus woman suddenly tackled her with an overbearing hug.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" cried Jezebel Trayer, squeezing her tight.

She frowned as other people in the waiting room began to stare, but rather than pry the Succubus off, Izzbelle just returned the hug, unsure of what else to do.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Trayer?" she asked, gently easing her off.

Sniffling, Jezebel nodded.

"Oh it was horrible, sweetie. Seeing my snookums get shot like that... It was more than I could bear!"

"But what about you? Are you alright?"

"Don't worry about me; the girls and I are more than capable of looking after each other. What about you?"

Izzbelle swallowed hard and took a moment to think before nodding.

"Yeah... I'm fine..."

Jezebel took a seat on the bench next to the Oni, figiting with her bracelets as she watched doctors and nurses rush about.

"I've never seen my boy fight like that. He'd have the odd scuffle back in school, but..."

Izzbelle raised an eyebrow. Cobalt didn't seem like the type to get into fights.

"He did?"

"He wouldn't recall if you asked him, so maybe don't. I wouldn't want him to get stressed out trying to remember."

Taking a deep breath, Jezebel looked down and fiddled with the wedding band on her finger.

"Tell me, sweetie... what you said at the altar... did you mean it?" she asked, glancing over at Izzbelle.

The Oni grew flustered as her cheeks began to burn.

"I, uh... I- I just..."

"My Cobalt isn't a very romantic boy. I tried my best with him, but the matters of love and lust are completely alien to him, the poor thing. If you truly mean what you said, then I'm afraid you're going to have to put in the work to get him to understand," the Succubus explained.

Reaching over, she gently took Izzbelle's hand and looked her deep in the eyes, smiling softly.

"He's a good boy. Just a little dense sometimes, is all."

Eager to change the subject, Izzbelle nervously cleared her throat.

"How, uh... How's he doin'?" she asked.

"He's doing okay. Just a few stitches, but he refused to leave until Elya got out of surgery. Oh, that poor girl... They say the single kind spell a Fallen has is their ability to heal people, at a terrible cost to themselves..." Jezebel replied, turning her iron ring around and around.

Noticing the look in the Oni's eyes, Jezebel chuckled lightly.

"There's a room at the very end of that hallway, just on the left. He's in there, sweetie," she said, pointing across the waiting room.

"Wh- Why you tellin' me that?!"

"Oh you don't fool me with all that bravado. Go get him, sweetie."

With a gentle push, the Succubus urged Izzbelle to get out of her sweet. With nothing else left to do, she just nodded and made her way down the hallway, her bare feet quietly slapping off the linoleum floor. The strange looks from passers-by continued as she walked, but Izzbelle was far too focused on finding Cobalt.

However she felt about him, she knew for a fact that she was worried about the Incubus. A part of her froze up entirely whenever her father shot the Incubus, and as she carried him out of the Sulfur Blood compound, Izzbelle found herself begging for him to remain with her. For that single, horrible moment, she thought she was going to lose him, and it left a pain in her chest that she had never felt before.

"Um, miss? What are you-?" began a nurse, stepping in front of her.

"Fuck off," came the Oni's abrupt reply, shoving him out of the way.

As per Jezebel's instructions, she continued on down the hallway until she found herself standing outside of the last door on the left. She made to open it, but found herself unable to turn the handle.

Was it not her fault that all this happened? Cobalt had more or less resigned himself to his fate, and if she had just gone through with the wedding, they could have found a way to peacefully resolve matters with her father later on, like he suggested the night before. But Izzbelle just couldn't handle the thought of marrying him so soon...

... and he suffered for her impulsiveness...

Swallowing her hesitation, the Oni pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The curtains had been drawn, casting gloom across the hospital room. Sure enough, Cobalt Trayer sat in a chair by the bed, arms folded as he quietly slumbered. Beneath his shirt, Izzbelle could see a bandage spanning his shoulder. He looked so peaceful when he slept, just like when they shared a bed the night before...

"Miss Suyas...?" spoke a quiet, uncertain voice.

The occupant of the bed was awake. Elya Yalfre - her various wounds stitched and bandaged - looked up from the book she held in her hands, green eyes shimmering despite the darkness.

Izzbelle took a step back, unsure of why the Fallen was being so cordial.

"I, uh... Just stopped by to check on him," she replied, pointing at the Incubus.

"Ah... of course..."

She looked over at Cobalt before smiling, something Izzbelle had never seen the nurse do.

"Always worried for everyone but himself..." she murmured, reaching over to brush a lock of navy hair from his eyes.

The Oni nodded a few times. This was weird; too weird.

"So how're you doin'?" she asked, unsure of what else to say.

"It... hurts still, but the doctors got the slug out okay. It's a good thing you and Cobalt got me here when you did..."

She smiled at Izzbelle, unnerving her even further. Hers was a strangely sad kind of expression.

"Thank you. Truly. I feel... liberated, even if it is for a moment," she sighed, resting her head against the pillows.

But gradually, Elya's smile faded.

"You brought it with you, didn't you?" asked the Fallen, startling her.

The Oni just cleared her throat and reached into her dress. Pulling out the iron dagger - still crusted with Lorenzo's blood - she shrugged her shoulders and placed it on a cabinet by the bed. Izzbelle had no idea why she took it with her. Perhaps out of some odd form of gratitude; Elya did help her rescue Cobalt after all.

"Thanks, I guess. For the coverin' fire. And for, uh... takin' a bullet like that. Must've hurt."

The Fallen slumped back in her bed, eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, she reached over and took the blade up in her hands, murmuring to herself as she ran a finger across the blade.

"Of course it did. But no amount of pain is worth... is worth... oh... I don't..."

She went quiet, knuckles whitening as she gripped the dagger's handle. All over a sudden, Elya sat bolt-upright, purple eyes wide and wings quivering. She glanced around before narrowing her eyes at Izzbelle.

"The things I ought to do to you..." she hissed in a threateningly monotonous tone.

She began to tear drips and IVs from her arms, causing machines to blare in the brief moments before she unceremoniously stabbed her dagger through them, silencing them. Pulling the sheets off the bed, Elya got to her feet. Tearing her patient's gown off, she turned and stretched her wings, allowing Izzbelle to see the fresh stitches in her stomach. She guessed that she wasn't supposed to be up and about with such injuries, but Izzbelle thought better of saying anything.

"... but I do not intend on owing a debt of gratitude. So I shall overlook your transgressions just this once. From here on, I owe you nothing, do you understand?" Elya spat, pointing the dagger at the Oni's throat.

Shoving her back, she turned to the Incubus and placed a cold hand on his face.

"I would take a thousand bullets for you, my love... I told you before, we are bound to share our fates, but as much as I would love to stay with you, I must return home to recover."

Folding her wings, she walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. Unlocking the windows, she pulled them open and climbed outside, but not before taking one last look at the Incubus.

"See you soon, my love..."

With that, she spread her wings and took off, blasting a gust of wind through the hospital room. Left alone in a room full of destroyed medical equipment, Izzbelle took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, gazing at the sleeping Incubus. She reached over and took his hand.

"Rest easy, dumbass... I think you earned it..."

-----

"GAH! FUCK~!"

Aelda scowled and glared at her husband over the rims of her spectacles, clutching a needle in her bloodstained hands.

"Keep squirmin' like that and it's only gonna hurt more," she chided, narrowing her eyes as she resumed her work.

Lorenzo gritted his teeth and lay back down on the table, teeth gritted as spasms of pain rocked through his arm, only growing worse as his wife meticulously sewed his finger back on. All around him, various Sulfur Bloods watched on; some tending to their wounds with bandages, others with drink.

"You're enjoyin' this, aren't you?!" he hissed, taking a swig from the brandy bottle he clung to.

Across the common room, Corris sighed and rubbed a bruise on her forehead. In the aftermath of Cobalt and Izzbelle's flight from the estate, that near-naked Fallen psychopath went completely berserk, darting from man to man with inhuman speed, slicing and dicing anything within reach. Corris managed to stop her from killing anybody, but not before giving her a few grevious injuries before suddenly jetting off into the night.

"None of us are enjoying this, Lory, believe me. Been a shitty night all over," she lamented, snatching an ice-cold beer from the hands of a subordinate in order to place against her bruise.

"You're not helpin'!"

"Yeah, well, neither were you. Honestly, Lory; what the fuck were you thinking? I know the kid was a bit of an upstart, but did you really have to cap him like that?"

Lorenzo winced as his wife made another stitch.

"He was disrespectin' me!"

"He told you the truth, more like..."

"Excuse me?!"

Corris stepped over to him, frowning as she drummed her fingers against the beer bottle.

"He was right, you know. You've been acting a Hell of a lot like your pappy in recent days, and if Izzbelle didn't do what she did, you would've ended up just like him."

"She has a point, honey," Aelda chimed, dipping her needle into a bowl of antiseptic.

The Oni warlord grit his teeth.

"Why the fuck didn't either of you say anythin', then?!"

"Have you met yourself? Once something gets into your head, there's nothin' to be done about it. Even if I outright told you the weddin' wasn't gonna work, you still would have gone ahead out of spite," his wife replied coolly.

"Still, silver lining is, you've learned something from this. Don't be like your pappy; let your kid live her life," Corris sighed, taking a swig of beer.

"But... the clan needs a strong leader..."

Sighing, Aelda set her tools down and leaned over to gently kiss her husband's horn. It tingled pleasantly at her touch.

"And it's got one, honey. You're not dyin' yet, so maybe just shut the fuck up and relax, hm? Does that make sense?" she said softly.

With a deep sigh, Lorenzo let his head slump back onto the table.

"Fine... fine..."

"Atta boy. Now hold still."

"AGH! FUCKS SAKE, THAT HURTS!"

Aelda rolled her eyes and returned to her field surgery, deaf to her husband's agonised screams as she carefully reattatched his index. However, before long, Lorenzo's screams were drowned out by the sound of someone hammering on the trapdoor. The general clamour of the Sulfur Bloods died down as the clattering grew louder.

"Who the fuck is that?" Aelda groaned, wiping the blood off her hands.

"Corris," growled Lorenzo, taking another swig of brandy, "go see who that is and tell them to fuck right off."

"Aye, aye, I know what you mean. Good thing I never put the safety on," sighed his advisor, drawing her pistol.

Walking over to the staircase, she made her way up towards the entrance to the common room, grumbling all the while. Unbolting the trapdoor, she made to confront whomever was causing the ruckus, only to be suddenly struck in the chest by a booted foot. She was unceremoniously thrown down the stairs, striking her head off the floor once she reached the bottom.

At once, everyone in the chamber drew their guns and aimed it at the staircase.

"Who the fuck are you?! Show yourself!" barked Lorenzo, drawing his own gun despite being half-delerious from the pain.

There was no reply, save for the slow clomping of boots on cold stone steps.

"What kind of world is it, where I come to visit an old friend, and I'm met with the barrel of a .45?" announced a deep, rasping voice.

The intruder spoke in an insidious tone, and in some ways it sounded like rusted metal scraping together. At once, Lorenzo's blood ran cold. That voice...

A man walked into the common room, casually stepping over the groaning form of Corris. He was as tall as an Oni, yet not as broad, and he lacked any kind of identifying horn. The man wore a heavy coat, with a raised hood that shrouded his face, save for a pair of blood-red eyes that stared straight through Lorenzo.

"You..." he breathed, his grip on the gun wavering.

The stranger nodded.

"Me indeed. Good to see you again," he hissed, raising a gloved hand in greeting.

Lorenzo bared his teeth.

"You have some fuckin' nerve coming back here!"

"It's been twenty-two years, has it not? Let bygones be bygones."

"And let you try and destroy everythin' again?! Have you forgotten the beatin' we gave you last time?!"

The stranger laughed. It was a deep, booming sound that jarred the teeth.

"'We'? There was no 'we', Lorenzo. It was only one man who beat me that day, and I'm certain he's long gone by now."

Lorenzo propped himself up on his injured hand fixing to get a clear shot.

"I oughta end it right fuckin' now. Honour his memory and put you in the fuckin' ground!" he barked.

"You could. Or you could listen to my proposition."

"I don't wanna hear shit from scum like you, Diate!"

Diate laughed all the louder, clasping his hands behind his back as he stalked towards Lorenzo, eyes glinting in the light.

"Please, indulge me. I promise you, I'm a changed man. I no longer wish for such silly things like 'total domination' or whatever nonsense I was spouting back in the day. I swear, on my rent horns and my ripped wings," he explained, sitting down on a nearby barstool.

"And your sliced tail too, hm?" Aelda commented, though Lorenzo could tell she was scared.

He nodded his hooded head.

"And I've forgotten the pain of none of them. How are you, Aelda? Still toting that machinegun around?"

She just scowled, prompting Diate to sigh.

"Ever the ice queen."

"What the fuck do you want?!" roared Lorenzo slamming the butt of his gun against the table he was laying on.

The hooded man leaned forward.

"As I promised, I wish for death on no-one..."

He raised a finger.

"... save one man we both despise..."