Realistic or Modern Rise Of The Dire Four (IC)

Damian sat inside his parked car just across the street from the almost stadium sized building. Flashing lights accompanied the grand and lavish architecture as the detective sat motionless, slowly taking a swig from a small flask inside one of his cup holders.

"You know that stuff isn't good for you..." whispered a menacing voice inside Damian's head.

"Piss off Zee. Besides, this is what people do on stake outs. Furthermore, since when did a demon suddenly become a renowned expert of human health?" said Damian in a snarky tone.

The detective briefly glances into his rearview mirror only to catch a glimpse of a horrifying entity. The creature had sickly reddish yellow skin, a pair of saber tooth fangs and what appeared to be no less than ten grotesquely misshapen eyes dotting it's face that all blinked unison. The entirety of the top of it's head was studded with pointed and razor sharp horns that twisted and gnarled in all directions. This was the Arch Demon Zeraster and he was forcefully exerting his influence upon Damian's shared psyche. In the arena of Damian's mind, Zeraster grabs him from behind and violently seizes his throat, one of his taloned fingers gently scraping at the detective's face.

"Now listen to me Adamite! Although the strength of your will is exceptional, never forget that for all intent and purposes, you are but a mere mortal and I am effectively a god. The accursed spell that binds my essence with your soul will someday give out, and when that day comes, I will relish ripping my way through your very being like a blade through tissue paper!" says Zeraster as Damian struggles against his onslaught.

"What type of tissue paper? I was always partial to Charmin." says Damian as he let's out a nervous yet defiant chuckle.

"When the time comes Adamite, your little quips will not save you from my true power. Until such time, my spirit is still bound to your wretched body. Make sure you have designated driver." says Zeraster as his reptilian like tongue slithers out of his crooked mouth.

"Oh war boy, I didn't know you cared..." says Damian as he smirks. With this, Zeraster releases his hold and the detective lurches forward. Breathing heavily, Damian checks the rearview mirror again, only to find that the entity has vanished.

"Touchy son of a bitch..."

Suddenly, the passenger side door of his car swings open, which startles the detective even more "Holy shit..." he yelps.

"Sorry, just me." says Alana as she gingerly takes a seat beside Damian. She notices his agitated state and smiles "Oh don't tell me I scared the Horseman of War." she says with a chuckle.

"No, no...it's just Twitchy was actin up again. Tryin to ride me about drinkin too much, go figure. Anyway, what the hell took you so long? I've been waiting here for over an hour."

"Yea it took me awhile to find this goddamn place. For a building the size of Met's Stadium, it's way out in the middle of fucking nowhere."

Damian takes another drink from his flask "Yup, the Galleria Medici. Impressive as shit."

"You can say that again, you run down some kind of a lead on this place?" asks Alana as she peers out the windshield.

"Possibly, I was pokin around one of my usual haunts on the Dark Web when I ran across an interesting forum."

"Whatcha got?"

"Well, alotta these creeps couldn't stop talking about a particular website. Said browsing it gave them all kinds of enlightenment or some such bullshit. Anyway, my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to click on one of the links. The site's name is To Bare Witness dot com, so given what we've been searching for, this piqued my interest even more."

"I'm listening..."

"Suffice to say the site is weird as fuck. Just endless pages of pagan inscriptions, cipher codes and whole lot of pictures of animal sacrifice. I dug into the site's history and managed to find out that it's author is none other than one Nathan Ulysses Saunders."

"The Real Estate guy?" asks Alana raising her eyebrows.

Damian smirks aloud "You refer to the tenth richest man on the planet as the Real Estate guy?"

"Well, that what he's most known for isn't he?"

Damian shakes his head slightly "Well, yea, but...you know what never mind. Saunders is also a doomsday new age conspiracy nut. He's got his hands in all kinds of off the wall shit including being a prominent member of Scientology, the Knights of the Golden Dawn and The Church of Satan."

"...and you think this guy might know something about The Witnesses?"

"Well being the tenth wealthiest son of a bitch in the world, Saunders has his ear to a whole lotta back door shit. I thought it might be worth givin em' a talking to."

"Ok, but what does this place have to do with anything?" asks Alana as she points to the large complex across the street.

"Well being the narcissistic bastard that he is, Saunders keeps his itinerary quite public. I found out that he's holding some kind of grand shindig for a lot of his private backers. The location...The Galleria Medici."

Alana nods her head in impressed approval "Ok, but if this is some kind of private gathering, what makes you think he's gonna let us in?"

"I've been casing the place for the last hour, seen a few high profile big wigs coming and going. In addition to the main gate, I suspect there are at least two back entrances. I figured we'd try our luck."

"Worth a shot I guess. You let the others in on this?"

"Mills is still out on her pilgrimage near Somalia and I texted MacReynolds, told him where we planned to meet up, but he hasn't gotten back to me. Hopefully he shows up. If not, I guess it's just you and me."

Alana smiles and raises her foam coffee cup "Here's to ya." she says as Damian clangs his flask as both take a sip of their respective beverages.

Davey's phone vibrated on the table in front of him, but he ignored it a moment longer, one finger tracing his progress in a passage in a book older than anyone he knew still alive, that he was attempting to translate from a rather archaic form of German. There was something good and quiet and normal about sitting here, at this big wooden table at this library full of soft key clicks and pen scratches, that smelled of clean wood and aged books and dust, and he looked just like one of the dozen other grad students sitting around working on their theses, rather than a kid from Appalachia hosting an archangel.

The phone buzzed again, helpfully reminding him that he had just missed a text, and Davey sighed softly and flipped it over.

It was Alvarado, and he had sent quite a lot of information about a lead to the Witnesses, and a meetup location. Davey sighed again and returned his phone face down on the table.

IT WILL NOT GO AWAY IF YOU IGNORE IT.

I am aware, Davey thought back. I just want to finish this.

WE HAVE, Abaddon said, almost gently, A DEADLINE.

A pause, heavy in the quiet of that library that felt forgotten by time.

PUN NOT INTENDED.

Davey grinned a little. He picked his phone back up. omw, he texted.

He finished up at the library, tidying the books away and tucking his battered hardback journal into an inner pocket of his jacket. It was raining when he stepped outside, the world soft and gray and cold. He hummed to himself as he headed down the street, pulling his keys from his pocket. The keys to his apartment and his mother's house felt like hopeful charms clinking against his car keys. Few things from his old life had followed him, but if the only two were his fiddle and his car, then he supposed they were the most important.

Davey slid into the driver's seat of his boxy little Evo (the stock paint color aptly named Wicked White, which both he and Abaddon now felt was an excellent joke), and adjusted the rear view mirror. For a moment, he could see the shadowy shape of a hooded figure in the backseat, complete with a flash of dark feathers.

It didn't take very long to find where Alvarado waited near the gargantuan Galleria Medici. Davey pulled up beside Alvarado, the hood of his car level with the rear of Alarado's and stepped out. He leaned against the driver's door of his car and, as if Alvarado could fail to notice him, texted, here.

At the sight of Davey's arrival, both Damian and Alana exit the car.

"You made it, good. C'mon, we don't have alotta time. I'll fill you in on the details on the way." said Damian as he addresses Davey in an all business like manner.

Alana smiled warmly as she pats her other companion on the shoulder "Good to see you Davey."

A few minutes later, the trio had cautiously made their way to the far side of the galleria building. They made it a point to avoid any security patrols and stop near an unassuming small door, located on a sub level of what must have been the basement of the building.

"In casing the place, I noticed this entrance, no patrols around, should get us in."

"...and than what?" asks Alana with concern in her voice.

"One thing at a time chick." answers Damian with slight annoyance.

Out of nowhere, an old man dressed in tattered clothing casually walks up beside them and drapes one arm over Alana's shoulder "So what are we lookin at crew?"

Alana pulls back as the others look on slightly stunned at the intruder who literally materialized out of thin air "Just who in the Hell are you and where in fuck did you come from?" asks Alana aggressively.

"Such language, and perhaps Hell wouldn't be the best usage of words considering you three's situation." says the old man as he gingerly chomps on an apple.

Damain squints his eyes as he comes closer to the man's face immediately noticing his eyes are an unnatural shade of ice blue "Jericho, is that you?"

"I am always impressed with your deduction skills Damian, what gave it away?"

"You gotta work on the eye thing...you know for one of the highest ranking Angels who supposedly loathes the possession of mortal beings, you sure as hell do it a lot, you know that?"

"True but when I do it, I always without fail, try to leave my temporary host better than when I found him." says Jericho.

"So who pretell is this poor schlub...bastard looks homeless." says Damian.

"Try to have a little compassion why don't you." says Jericho in a scolding manner "This is one Mr. Henry Humphries. He's recently fallen on some hard times, lost his job, all his benefits and now unfortunately he's taken to the streets. But, I'm proud to say, since he's serving as my temporary vessel, he won't be in this state for very long." says Jericho as he gleefully taps one of his side pockets, revealing the clanging twinge of what sounds like coins. Jericho pulls out a few tokens, as their golden sheen glistens in the low light "As soon as I depart, Mr. Humphries will find he's a very rich man indeed. Seventeenth century Spanish Doubloons worth over...well you, get the point."

Alana smiles "Your a class act Jeri."

"As a servant of the Most High, I know it's what the Almighty wants for all." says Jericho.

"Beautiful, moves me to tears...you here to help us or what?" asks Damian impatiently.

"You know I'm forbidden to directly intervene until the Two Witnesses are located and identified." says Jericho.

"So I suppose the sixty four thousand dollar question is...what the hell are you doing here?"

"Simply to offer you some guidance. In this place you'll find an entity that bites very close to one of your hearts, or rather those inside you." says Jericho as he takes another bite of his apple.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

Jericho just raises his eyebrows and grins "Good luck to you three. I'll see you time." the angel says as he nonchalantly walks away.

A few feet down the road a bright flash emanates from the homeless man's body as a vaguely angelic shape, complete with wings, is seen flying away into the night sky. Henry Humphries stops short, seemingly unaware of where he is or what has just transpired "This ain't Central Park?" says Henry perplexed.

Damian shakes his head as he signals to the others "C'mon, we're wasting time." he says as the Detective makes short work of the door lock and breaks in within a matter of seconds.

"HOT DAMN...IS THIS GOLD, WHOOHOO!!!" Humphries is heard shouting in the distance.

"I don't think that was very helpful," Davey muttered, mulling over Jericho's riddle. An entity that bit close to one of their hearts. What could bite pestilence? War? Death? (And was Humphries even going to get that money, or was he going to get accused of stealing it?)

THE LORD WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS, Abaddon said, but not like he particularly found it comforting.

Something something ineffable game of God's own devising? Davey asked.

YEAH.

Swell.

Jericho wouldn't have come if it wasn't important though, and it annoyed Davey that he couldn't solve the puzzle. Something was waiting for them in there, and he was getting sick of surprises.

"Be careful," he said as Damien started on the door.

As the three crept their way inside, they inspected the interior of the building cautiously. It resembled one of the most grand and lavish art gallerys ever assembled. Floor upon floor of majestic paintings, sculptures, tapestries and exquisite antique pieces that seemed to be collected from all over the world and from many different time periods. It was well after hours for the Galleria's normal public openings and everything was eerily quiet.

"Saunders has quite the taste for art doesn't he?" said Alana as she marveled up at a large marble column that looked to be from the classical Greco-Roman period.

Damian smirked "Again, we're talking about the tenth richest man on the planet. He may have made his money from real estate, but he's got his hands in just about everything imaginable."

Just than, Damian gets the sensation of sound vibrations emanating from a nearby doorway. He goes over and presses his ear to the wall, where the sound of drums could be made out.

"What do you got?" asks Alana.

"Check over by that door..."

Alana goes over and turns the knob only to find it tightly locked "This one I got." she says as the Army officer retrieves a butterfly knife from her trousers and uses it to jam the door open.

Damian smiles "Nice...But next time, MacReynolds can just use his powers to rust the entire door loose." he says as he looks back to Davy and winks.

On the other side of the door, the trio discover a beautiful winding staircase that led down to some sub lower levels of the Galleria. As they descend, the weird sound of drums and almost tribal like ritual music became ever louder. Near the bottom, Damian draws his firearm as all of them enter a large sub cavern filled to the brim with a least a few thousand attendants. Loud rythmic music played and the other guests seemed to be dancing and carrying on with wild abandon. It was almost a scene straight out of an ancient Roman orgy. Bewildered and in slight shock, the three quickly take cover behind a large balcony.

"What the hell is going on?" asks Damian's as his eyes dart around, his gaze inexorably drawn to copious smears of what looked like blood strewn all over the walls.

"Looks like The Temple of Doom meets Blade!" exclaims Alana as she scans the scene below. Than her eyes focus in on a large ominous statue standing at least thirty feet tall above a giant altar near the far wall. The statue was of a snake headed creature with six arms, it's mouth dripping with crimson liquid as the various denizens danced wildly at it's feet. Alana goes into a semi trance as her eyes begin to glaze over milk white.

"Alana, you alright?" asks Damian.

The woman looks over with a sharp turn of her head, her mouth now oozing black fluid and a grotesque rictus grin plastered on her face. Damian shutters back as she begins to speak in an un Earthly ghostly moan "I am familiar with the entity atop the far altar."

"You don't say, huh Al. What is that your BFF?" asks Damian in a sarcastic manner, knowing he's now speaking with the demon Al Shaytan, the Horseman of Pestilence.

Al Shaytan laughs with a frightening inhuman cadence "Hardly...that is a likeness of the Arch Demon Da'Trocittian, one of my most effective lieutenants in the legions of The Abyss."

"Yea ok, Alana...you in there? Pestilence is gettin all creepy again."

Al Shaytan throws his head back and let's out a slight moan as Alana's personality once again re-gains control of her body, her eyes returning to normal "Sorry about that, Spooky has his moments." she says as she wipes away swaths of the black fluid from her mouth "But yea, while I was in time out, I saw a vision of that Cobra Commander lookin thing. It's name is Da' Trocittian and he feeds off blood according to Spooky."

"Well, that'll definitely explain that" says Damian as he points to several of the occupants below who seem to be viscously biting into each other's necks, all of them sporting pointed fangs.

Alana looks on, her yes growing wider in concern "Looks like we got ourselves a little demon spawned vampire cult down here. Always fun times."

Damian looks over to Davy "What about you MacReynolds...you think Abaddon would know anything about Al's BFF over there?"

Davey padded silently after the other two through the darkened galleries. It was a beautiful, eerie space, and he would not have minded more time there. But they had more pressing matters, and on they went. He did not respond to Damian's quip about his powers--the weight of all that art around them somehow made the gravitas of his powers feel heavier. Besides, they didn't work so well on things. To die, something needed to live first, after all. Rusting a door was more of a Time thing than a Death one, Davey suspected.

The sound of music below made his spine tense, but he continued on, peering down into the ecstatic bacchanalia below. His heart hammered against his ribs with the drums, and for a fleeting moment, he could imagine giving in the the impulse to join the frenzy. But he tore his gaze away, and turned his attention to Alana as Al Shaytan took her over.

He was once again glad that Abaddon did not seem to view him with the same contempt that the other horsemen had for their vessels.

"What about you MacReynolds...you think Abaddon would know anything about Al's BFF over there?" Damian asked.

Well? Davey asked, tilting his head slightly. Abaddon rose forward, almost gently taking control of Davey's body, like a skittish teenager taking the wheel of the family car.

I DO NOT CONCERN MYSELF WITH THE PETTY CULTS OF LESSER DEMONS, Abaddon said, his voice somehow coming less from Davey's throat than directly into everyone's heads, Abaddon's normal serene tone laced with annoyance. Davey grinned a little as Abaddon retreated within him.

"I think that means he doesn't know," he said, and looked back down at the revelry. Was this what Jericho had meant? "Is our guy down there?"

As the three huddled behind the balcony, a group of the reveling bloodsuckers approaches unseen from behind.

"Well, well...what have we here?" says one of the vampires.

At hearing this, a wicked smile crosses Alana's lips as she looks at Damian "Guess that didn't take long, huh?"

"Just remember, try not to kill all of them. We still need to question Saunders." says Damian as the pupils of his eyes turn a pale yellow color, insinuating that the Detective was summoning Zeraster's power, without having the demon completely take him over.

"I'll do my best, but no promises." says Alana as her eyes undergo a similar transformation, but again without having the demon inside her completely take over as it had done briefly before.

Alana than leaps over the balcony with wild abandon performing a double somersault before landing on the ground below. All Hell than breaks loose. Alana simply touches and approaching vampire, causing the creature to break out in a series of horrific sores, boils and welts. The vampire screams in agony as the wounds than rupture in a spray of puss and mucous. She dodges a few swings from another creature, before grabbing one of her attackers by the throat, causing the vampire's neck and lymph-nodes to swell to grotesque proportions.

Meanwhile, no sooner had Alana leaped off the balcony, than Damian unfurls a hidden MP-5 semi automatic shoulder rifle, from beneath his jacket and starts to spray off a hail of bullets, which mows down several of the vampires in front of him. Before resuming his attack, Damian nods to Davy, sporting a wicked grin of his own. Damian than tosses Davy a fully automatic Glock M-9 Pistol.

"Safety's off...just point and click." he says, his voice taking on a echo like boom. What was evident about their situation, was that the more they used the Horsemen's power, the more they took the risk of the demon's completely taking over. A battle they struggled against daily.

Davey was many things, but unlike Alana or Damian, he wasn't a fighter. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, and by that time Alana was gone and Damian was throwing him the handgun. The last gun he'd held had been his grandfather's old hunting rifle, and this was nothing like the quiet of an early fall morning, fog rolling away as he took aim at a buck. Davey looked down at the Glock.

Point and click. Sure. Like a video game.

IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE COMPLICATED.

There was a wet hurgle from the balcony, a vampire that Damian had failed to completely kill before he'd run after Alana. Davey looked at it, and instead of firing the gun raised the index finger of his free hand to his lips.

"Sssh," he said.

It slumped back to the floor, silent. Davey's eyes glowed a green so pale as to be nearly white.

He trailed after Damian, wishing for his fiddle, safely left in the trunk of his car. He supposed using it would have broken Damian's rule about not killing all of them though. Abaddon's presence felt like stepping into cold water, enveloping him in a river of untouchable calm. Davey held the handgun loosely, finger off the trigger, muzzle pointed at the ground. He didn't need it.

Davey's voice was rough. It rasped and creaked like a ship at sea, but it got the job done. It didn't carry like his fiddle would have, in that cavernous space with its poor acoustics, not over the screams and the gunfire and the one lone drum like a frantic heartbeat, but it didn't need to. It just left him in an island of calm in a field of chaos, with anyone stupid enough to approach him falling dead before they could get close enough to touch him.

"From dust and ashes I have called you
And dust you shall become
In the end."

He'd let the other two worry about survivors.

As the melee continued, the three Horsemen racked up quite a body count, their powers proving to be an overwhelming force for the attacking vampires. It got to a point where one of the attending females, a woman named Shasta, took one of her cohorts aside.

"What in the name of Da'Trocittian is going on?! Who are those three?"

"I'm not sure, they could be an opposing clan." said the male in her company.

"Unlikely, no rival vampire clan has members that strong. It's unlike anything, I've ever seen. Their abilities border on the god like!" said Shasta.

"But look at their eyes, I wager that's not heavenly energy they're exerting. Perhaps it's about time we employ our signature deterrent."

"Agreed, we have to do something before our entire clan is wiped out! Fetch the deterrent!"

As the male vampire disappears around a bend and opens up a hidden compartment. He retrieves what appear to be brightly colored canisters and pumps. In the meantime, Shasta leaps over a nearby balcony and lands several feet in front of Damian. The Horseman of War has gone through his exhaustive supply of ammunition and is just about out of bullets as he expends his last few cartridges exploding vampire heads as he shoots straight through their skulls. In the frenzy, his eyes grow redder, his skin begins to literally glow with a crimson aura that seems to shine through his very pores. Moment by moment, he is losing more control to the ferocious demon as Zeraster threatens to completely take him over.

"Just what I needed to see...Malek, toss me the gun!" shouts Shasta as Malek throws her an odd looking weapon. She pumps the gun hard an a blast of water comes shooting out, striking Damian and thoroughly soaking him in the process.

Damian recoils in pain as the force knocks him to one knee. He grunts, his voice echoing in an un-Earthly demonic tone. Steam starts to billow from his skin as he clenches his fists. The possessed Detective looks up, blood now dripping from his eyes. He sees Shasta looming a few feet away, with the odd weapon pointed directly at him, ready to fire off another blast. He squints in a mix of amusement and bewilderment "What the fuck? Is that a goddamn Super Soaker?" he smirks "Son of a bitch...I haven't seen one of those in years!"

"Glad you like it...high grade holy water tapped and blessed from the River Jordan."

"Why in the hell would a bunch of vampires have holy water?"

Malek joins Shasta and fires off another blast of holy water from his own Super Soaker squirt gun, which knocks Damian a few more feet back, causing him to writhe in even more pain.

"Simple, we have frequent clashes with other rival clans. Holy water is a powerful weapon against all our kind. We just found a novel way of utilizing it. Now your gonna tell me just who the fuck you are and what you people want, or so help me, the next blast is gonna melt your face off!" says Malek.

Damian looks up, his anger mounting, which causes his control over Zeraster to slip even further. However he notices Alana approaching from behind Shasta. Her control over Al-Shaytan, seems to be slipping as well, as black liquid starts to seep from her mouth. Her pupils becoming more pale. But before she can sneak up on the two vampires, several other of the bloodsuckers had armed themselves with more holy water squirt guns and began to unload on the Horsemen. Several had begun to attack Davy, some even launching water balloons filled with the blessed liquid. Some of the blood drinkers had gotten careless, and began to spill some of the water onto themselves, causing some of their limbs to literally melt off. A well placed spray blast from a vampire carrying a vintage Super Soaker 250, hits Alana directly in her midsection, which results in her collapsing to the floor. Al-Shaytan seems to have an even more violent reaction to the holy water than Zeraster did. Incapacitated by the holy water attacks, the vampires hold the Horsemen at their mercy.

"I think it's time Nathan met the party crashers..." says Shasta as she signals some other vampires.

Three more bloodsuckers approach a large pool of blood directly under the monolithic statue of Da'Trocittian "High Minister...we bid you rise."

The entire pool begins to bubble and churn, until a pale, muscular man with saber fangs emerges from the pool, breathing hard. Dripping blood from his entire body, he slowly approaches the incapacitated Horsemen. This is non other than Nathan Saunders, still vaguely recognizable from his normal human appearance, however now he is in his feral vampire form.

"Who has dared to intrude upon the sanctity of the Da'Trocittian clan?" rasps Saunders.

The squirt gun hit like a fat tick exploding--hot and gross and undignified. Davey's song broke off into a disgusted "urk," as he tried to shake holy water off. It stung and burned, but less for him than it did for Damian and Alana. But then, Abaddon was an archangel as well as a demon, though Davey was uncertain how he could be both. But he wasn't about to question it now, not when he could keep his feet when the others were floored from it.

Holy water snaked down his face and arms and spine, hot and sticking and burning, and he couldn't shake it off. His stomach lurched, and Davey staggered to one knee, afraid, he was going to throw up. But the moment passed, and his stomach steadied, and he stood back up, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, as if that would somehow help.

"Guess we get to talk to him after all," Davey murmured as Saunders appeared, though much....bloodier....than Davey had expected. "If you hit me with that," he added, louder, for a vampire just visible in the corner of his eye, hefting a water balloon, "I will be extremely disappointed." He expected to get hit in the face with the balloon anyway, but the vampire almost sheepishly lowered his projectile.

Davey's thoughts chased each other around like hamsters trapped in a spinning wheel as he looked around the cave, trying to put some semblance of a plan together. Plans were more Damian or Alana's forte, but he was the one standing.

His eyes landed on the instruments. Some he didn't recognize, others he did, but none he was particularly good at. But he wasn't exactly going to be playing to please, after all. He looked away, back at Saunders. They needed to hear his evil monologue, and then by then Davey figured he'd have a better idea of what he needed to do, a better idea of the half-formed idea still taking shape.

He was sure, at least, that he could coax a drum into workable song.

As Saunders steadily approached, he seemed to somehow fixate on Alana, who seemed more incapacitated than either Damian or Davey. One of Saunders' vampire minions handed him a large ceremonial scythe. The demonic tycoon, raised the weapon over Alana and was seemingly about to strike, when the woman violently lurched upward, her eyes now completely devoid of any Humanity. A ghostly moan escaped her lips and her body levitated of the ground resembling a marionette puppet controlled by overhead strings. This managed to startle Saunders and the other vampires to step back. An ethereal mist engulfed Alana's body and what can only be described as a supernatural hologram began to take shape floating above her form. The eerie figure was draped in a filthy white robe and hood and that obscured any facial features it might've had. The creature's hands were gnarled and diseased looking. This was the incorporeal form of Al-Shaytan, who managed to have completely taken over once again in Alana's stricken state. The surrounding vampires looked on in shock as Saunders lowered his weapon. The transparent wraith of Al-Shaytan looked menacingly down at Saunders...

"Loathsome insect!" the demon muttered as he flicked his wrist and sent Saunders flying backwards with some invisible force.

Al-Shaytan than turned his attention to the giant statute atop the pool of blood and vampiric altar "Do you not recognize the countenance of your master, Da'Trocittian? Spare me your pathetic lackeys and answer for your actions. For I and I alone am the living embodiment of Pestilence itself! I command you to speak!"

After a few moments of silence and to everyone's shock, the statue of Da'Trocittian began to move. With a thunderous roar, the edifice became fully animated and willfully stepped down off of it's perch. Blood began to drip from it's mouth as it slowly approached Al-Shaytan. While all this was happening, Damian started to take advantage of the distraction and began to crawl his way over to Davey. He managed to muster just enough strength to stand, but had to steady himself on a nearby bannister.

"Well this is certainly different. Look I don't know what germ boy has up his sleeve, but I figure we don't have much time to take advantage of the situation. I'm guessing our best way outta here is to grab a hold of a few of those Super Soakers and blast our way out. I just need a few more minutes to dry off and I should be good. But in the mean time, think you could create some kind of diversion, while I try and grab some of those squirt guns? Keep those blood suckers off my back for a few seconds? We'll take it from there." he says to Davey, trying to catch his breath.

Meanwhile, Da'Trocittian knelt before the specter of his demon master "My Lord Al-Shaytan, your forgiveness I beg. We of the ninth realm of the Abyss have been stricken by your sudden disappearance. Tell me my lord, just how have you come to be bound to this frail mortal vessel?"

"Tis I who will ask the questions here underling. I see you have been quite busy over the centuries creating your own loyal clan of Adamites. What would almighty Baphomet think of this subversion?"

"With all due respect my lord, my clan is only one of many that roam the Earth, whilst almighty Baphomet seems to have no quarrel with this endeavor." Da'Trocittian looks up, his concrete and marble eyes narrowing slightly "But tell me majestic Horseman of Pestilence, the trumpet has already sounded and the First Celestial Seal will soon be broken. You being bound to the essence of an Adamite soul is nowhere in the prophecy. So I shall ask again...just why have you taken possession of this mortal's spirit? Is it possible that you have been coupled against your own will?"

In the midst of the exchange, Saunders began to recover from Al-Shaytan's attack. He raises to his feet and again grabs the large scythe weapon, it's blade clanging against the ground...