Ellen opened her eyes, her vision out of focus and hazy. Her head was pulsing but she couldn't rub her temples; her hands were bound by thick, heavy chains that clanged on the stone tiling underneath her as she attempted to move. Her feet were also in shackles. As she regained her sight, she took a glance at her surroundings although she wished she hadn't and had kept her eyes closed. It was akin to a dungeon, and it appeared as if it came from the middle of a horrible experimentation laboratory.

It reignited her anxiety.

She was perched on the cold, hard stone floor which was damp and covered in moss and brown splatters.

Dried blood.

The four walls that towered over her were made from the same quarried stone as the floor, each block stacked precariously on top of the other. Light was being emitted from a single, bare light globe that flickered on and off. A heavy, reinforced metal door stood across the floor from her, closed and assumed to be locked.

Am I underground? she wondered to herself, all alone in this empty room.

Roots sprouted at odd angles from the crevices formed between the individual stone blocks, and water trickled down the block faces. There was a musky smell, very rich in earthly tones. This was mixed with something much more vulgar and sterile but she pushed this out of her mind. She didn't want to know but she had the suspicion that she would find out, anyway, with time.

Ellen gazed upwards at the roof. It was made of wooden panelling, this too caked in moss and leaking water. There was a plop! as each drop fell into a small puddle. Several of the slats were becoming bowed from the wetness and the compounding pressure coming from the top. It was an old room, and suffered greatly from neglect. It was a marvel that it was still intact.

She swallowed hard as she comprehended its scarce furnishings.

At the far end against the wall, there was a metal work station with a myriad of tools hanging above it. Knives, saws, hammers; they were all there, and they were all filthy and rust-riddled. In the centre of the room, below the bare bulb, was the centrepiece, an equally rusty surgeons table with heavy, leather restraining straps at both hands, feet and neck.

Ellen, now arriving back to her full senses, leaned the back of her head against the wall and closed her eyes. How foolish she was for believing a stranger that she had never seen before. She hit her head against the wall several times in disbelief, tears threatening to wet her cheeks. Because she had believed him, because she had been naïve, she ended up in this hell-hole.

She didn't want to die here.

With hope quickly fading like a flame without oxygen, she kept her eyes closed and wished – hoped ­– that Hans could hear her, track her down, feel her.

There was a metallic clink and a high-pitch squeal. She watched as the door slowly cracked open to expose two different people. The first was a tall, slender man in white doctor's robes with glasses and grey hair, who was immediately followed by the other man. The second man though, was familiar to Ellen. He was slightly shorter than the doctor and had cropped blonde hair with a slim face.

I know him. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rake through the memories and visuals that she could remember. Whilst she was in a frenzy, struggling to remember where she had seen him before, the two men conferred with each other, the doctor flicking his head in Ellen's direction and crossing his arms. The younger man sighed, and reluctantly made his way over to Ellen. Obviously unhappy with something, the man pulled a key from his pocket and yanked the heavy leg shackles off her. Her legs felt so, so light with that weight lifted.

"Get up," he snarled at Ellen, barely moving his lips. She didn't move.

"I said get up," he directed her again, the snarl even more sinister. And then suddenly, he slapped Ellen across the face and she bit the inside of her mouth. Where he hit her grew red and began to sting, and she tasted something salty in her mouth. Tears started collecting under her eyes. "No more smart comments otherwise you get another one."

"What do you think you are doing?" someone asked. The calm and collected tone was a stark contrast again the other man's coarse growl. "We need her in good shape, not battered and bruised. She's special. Handle her with care. Unless... you can't even do a simple job like that?"

The tall man that captured her in her bedroom appeared, leaning up against the doorway. He seemed to be at ease, his face showing not the slightest hint of emotion. Pushing himself away from the metal frame, he wandered to where Ellen was still sitting and crouched down so they were now eye-to-eye. His breath brushed against her cheeks and his nose nearly touched hers. He stared intensively for just a moment longer and then looked up at the other man and said "You're dismissed." The man walked away and joined the doctor, leaving Lucien and Ellen alone.

Ellen felt bitter hatred towards the man that now crouched in front of her and refused to look at him. Her nostrils flared as she let out forceful streams of air, the result of anger and disgust.

Come on Hans, she wished, desperately. Where are you?

"I apologise for that," he told her, using that same charming, innocent voice he used in the bedroom when he made the snatch. "Some people don't have very good social skills." Lucien saw a clump of mud stuck to Ellen's hair and pulled it out, dumping the clump next to him. Ellen faltered as he made contact with her. He had a small smile on his face, a smile that was enough to strike fear inside her. She sensed the power and air of authority that this man which made her dread him even more.

"Would you like me to help you get up?" he eyed the hand shackles on her wrists and laughed at the sight of them, his laugh warm yet gently eating away at her psychologically. "I imagine they would be quite heavy on those fragile hands of yours." Thoughtfully, he extended his hands and gently took her by the forearms. His touch was soft, hauntingly soft, and she was surprised that he was actually warm to the touch. Someone so evil could only be cold hearted with no ounce of warmness at all.

"Come on now, carefully. That's it, that's it." He supported her by the underarms and spent a minute observing her. Dirty, muddy blonde hair, a t-shirt and short shorts that were stained with filth, skin that was covered in mud. Ellen felt his eyes pierce through her, analysing every little detail right down to her feet. She felt the energy wane from her body involuntarily as she resigned to her fate. He put his arm underneath again and guided her to the surgeons table.

"I promise you," he told her reassuringly. "That this won't hurt at all, my dear. Now, if you just sit down," he helped her onto the cold metal surface. "And we put your feet up like this," he lifted her feet and placed them down carefully. Ellen was unable to fight against it, her body unreceptive to movement. "Then that is all you have to do. You have been a very good girl." She watched on as he winked at her and flashed a wide grin.

"Just one more thing because we don't want you falling off, do we?" He held down each of her hands and feet as he tightened the straps around them firmly, deciding to forgo the one for the neck. The leather straps cut into her skin, much more than the shackles had. She began to cry, overcome by fear, the torture, and the psychological anguish that was taking place. He peered down at her, the smile disappearing.

"Oh, dear. No. No. It's okay, don't cry. You'll be okay. It won't hurt, will it Doctor?" He wiped away the wetness that ran down her face. He looked away to the side at the white-robed doctor but she couldn't see him. He was well outside of her peripheral vision. There were footsteps from somewhere behind her, the noise echoing in the dungeon.

"Not one bit," the elderly man replied. She watched as the doctor gave the man a syringe of clear liquid. It suddenly hit her that the man that had struck her earlier was the man that was crushed between the two cars! How was this possible? He should have been dead! That's why he was chasing her. To try and catch her he but he failed.

"This," her snatcher showed her. He kept the psychologically tormenting demeanour as he spoke. "Will put you into a happy place whilst we take a look at you." Ellen tried to scream but it was stuck in her tightened throat. She opened her mouth, nothing coming out, gaping like a fish out of water. She tried to push away with her feet but the straps held her in place. He ran a finger along the bend in her arm, stroking it. Then he dropped down lower and lifted the needle closer to it. Taking a look at her, he slowly sunk it underneath her skin and depressed the contents into her vein. He stood back up straight and gazed down into her eyes. Ellen felt light, as if her body had been detached and she was floating. She drifted in and out of a dream - a blissful dream - and continued to look back at him as she fell into a trance like state. The last thing she remembered was the man raising an arm and pushing her hair away from her face. He bent down and kissed her forehead softly.

And that was when she closed her heavy eyelids.

Lucien stood there for a lingering moment longer, satisfied that they had finally got the girl. She looked peaceful, unknowing that the next time she woke up, she wouldn't be the same.

"Would you like to watch, or will you be leaving my Lord?" asked the doctor, distracted. He grabbed a sharpening block and pulled a long blade along it. His eyes grew shiny as the blade got sharper with each pull.

"I think I will leave and let you do the honours, dear friend. You've been preparing for this day for the last century." Lucien left the room with a backward glance. Soon. They were the closest they have ever been.

Soon.

- - -

The elderly doctor was mid-process of preparing his tools when the solid, metal door to the chamber opened once again. The grubby man that had struck Ellen across the face reappeared, huffing and in a foul mood. The doctor, amused by his behaviour, cast a sideward look. "What's with you?"

The sulky man leaned supported himself on the workbench, looking onwards at the doctor. "He's not particularly happy about my handing of her. But she wasn't following my direction, you see? You know where I'm coming from?"

The doctor sighed and placed the tools he was holding down. "She's important. It's crucial she's intact." He squinted at the man's hands. What appeared to be fresh blood was on them. He took a quick waft, and this was confirmed by the smell that filled his nostrils. "What did he do to you?"

"Oh," the man began, face falling. "He didn't do anything but I had to take care of something upstairs."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. The man's story not making any sense. They never did any sort of blood-drawing upstairs. It was too dirty for Lucien's standards. He opened his mouth, but – by no control of his own – closed it. The man now turned, his whole body facing the doctor. His cropped, blonde hair had disappeared and was now replaced by long, silver locks. He was taller, thinner, and his features were more chiselled than before.

"Grey," hissed the doctor. Realising that the he had been tricked and Grey was here to save the girl, the doctor made a rash decision and seized the closest, sharpest instrument he could find. He sprinted to the bed where Ellen was laying. He raised it and rammed it home roughly where her heart was. Little did he know that he was a few centimetres off target. One of these powerful creatures was born every hundred years. What would another hundred year wait be? Blood poured from the wound and pooled onto the metal table. Enraged, Hans closed the distance in a number of strides and grasped the doctor by his neck. He kicked out a foot that intersected with the back of the doctors knees and he went down, heavier than a sack of bricks. Grabbing the doctor like a rag-doll, he pulled him up so the helpless doctor was now on his knees.

"You made a bad," Hans spat at the man. "Bad move." He placed a hand on his forehead and the doctor slumped backwards lifelessly, coming to a still sprawl on the filthy, stoned floor.

Ignoring this lump of skin and bones, he frantically felt down Ellen's body to detect whether she was alive. She was drugged heavily but there was still a weak pulse. Hopefully, he thought to herself. His anger grew as he saw the straps cutting into her skin, now leaving red markings against the paleness. He reached to the buckles and each flipped open, releasing her. Knowing it was only a matter of time – time that was slipping through his fingers – before Lucien became aware of what was happening, he scooped the limp Ellen into his arms and exited the room. His time-controlling abilities were stripped inside this compound which made him vulnerable, so he took extra-precaution to avoid as many Necromancer's as possible and started to retrace his steps.

He saw the stairwell at the end of the hall that he now stood in, relieved that he was outside of what could only be described as a torture chamber. The hall wasn't very different in terms of darkness, but the stone walls were clean and the floor was replaced with panelling. It hinted of the grandeur of the floors above. He made his way up the stairs, his footsteps light against the wooden floor. He was met by greater light as he reached the top. Hans then stepped from the staircase and into an elaborate entrance room. Large windows provided panoramic views of outside although, now, it was the darkness of the wee-early morning hours. Hans spied the door that would lead him out of the building.

Safety was just outside of those doors and beyond the gates.

Wanting to get away as soon as possible, he hurried across the room and erupted under the eaves of the façade. It suddenly occurred to him that this entire journey had been easy, a little bit too easy. He only had to dispose of two Necromancer's: one that had try to trap him when he entered the compound, and the other being the elderly doctor that had stabbed Ellen. The girl was still limp in his arms and had stopped bleeding. His clothes were drenched but he would deal with that later – it was the least of his problems. He stepped onto the gravel of the driveway that would take him beyond the wrought-iron gates, to the point that he would be able to vanish, and started to walk down.

Had Lucien anticipated this? Did he direct his path to be clear so he could deal with him himself? He wouldn't put it past Lucien to sacrifice his men if needed, even if they had served him loyally for years. And it didn't seem possible that Lucien would not be aware that he was here. Hans felt himself go cold. The brother, the killer of his Master, was here. And Hans was a mere few steps from freedom.

"I was expecting you," came a familiar voice, a chuckle added in for good measure. "I knew you would come to rescue the mortal girl. How... noble of you."

"I wish I could say as much for you," Hans replied simply. He turned on the heels of his feet so he was facing Lucien, Ellen swaying in his arms. Lucien stood twenty metres in front of him, his features the same from the very night Hans so distinctly remembered. It appeared he hadn't aged a single day.

"Look at you. Pathetic. Putting your life on the line for a girl. So heroic. Just like your Master was before he died." His empathy made Hans sick but he fought it, and he fought it hard.

"Says the person interfering with the dead, and killing his own just to attain greater power. Your teacher must be proud." Lucien flinched and Hans pressed on. "But that's right. You got rid of him too."

"I knew you were trouble when I saw you through that window."

"Then why didn't you finish me?"

"Because the chase is better than the catch." There was silence as the two men stared at each other, emotions tense from the past and the present. Metaphorically, it was as if good was versing evil but this wasn't the case. It was about the struggle for power; power that came down to a single girl that was cradled in Hans' arms and had potentially lost her life. Instinctively, Hans sprinted for the wrought-iron gate line as Lucien lunged for him. Dodging his outstretched hands, Hans stepped across the invisible line and knew that he had his full abilities reawakened.

Catching a glimpse of Lucien's contorted, raging face, Hans visualised his destination and made the connection he required to be successful. He made a step, as if setting himself up for a sprint, and he felt himself fall through the ground. He closed his eyes. When his feet had landed on solid ground, he opened them and knew he was safe; at least, for the time being. Hans placed the motionless and cold body of Ellen onto a nearby bed, his thoughts in a scattered mess.

Did he make it in time to save her?

He didn't know.