Once he got off the plane John quickly met up with Jaron.

"John, I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your father."

"I'm sorry too, that's why I'm here to finish what he started."

"He was a great man, he will be missed dearly."

John wasn't much of a people person and didn't like talking for too long. The only way he knew Jaron was through his father, now the two were together without him for the first time.

"So what do you say we get going to wherever this map leads to."

"Yes, I have my friend Namir with me today. He knows these parts of Israel a lot better than I do, he will help us."

"Okay, lets get to it then."

The three of them set out on foot. It felt weird for John being out here in the desert this time without his father. He wasn't ready yet to take on his father's work without him but he had no other choice. He still did not know how his family went out, whether they did peacefully or were tortured first. Even just the thought of his name made John's stomach turn. Several hours passed and night had already made it's way. Jaron suggested they should stop and rest a few times but John refused each time he asked. They were all exhausted but John kept on pushing. His will power could not be broken. He struggled on until eventually he could continue no more. Even John had human faults and he had no choice but to give in and rest.

John awoke from a dreamless sleep. He immediately got up the moment he opened his eyes. He looked around. Something wasn't right. This wasn't his tent. Florian walked in through the entrance along side Namir. Jaron got up and stood beside John and looked into the eyes of his old friend Namir.

"You scoundrel, you betrayed me!"

"They paid me a lot better than you did Jaron, please understand, business is business."

"Curse you, curse your soul!"

Florian took a knife out from his belt and stabbed Namir in his back. His eyes widened in his last dying moment and fell silently, face first into the sand.

"So hard to find people you can trust these days isn't it?"

Florian kicked the body aside and approached John. He stood over him, Florian was a lot taller than John. He opened up John's jacket and took the map from him.

"I believe this belongs to me."

"My father started this search long before you ever even knew about it." he shouted back.

"Oh and I'm a great fan of your father's work. That's why I feel obligated to finish it for him. I hope you don't mind.

John lashed out at Florian, ready to knock his teeth in, but the guards held him back. Florian just laughed and made his way out.

"Keep an eye on them. I want them kept here alive." he ordered as he left the tent. John stood there defeated, silent and incomplete. But it did not feel over yet. John was still alive and Florian was within his grasp. All he was after was just some stupid ring that probably didn't even exist. The tomb and King Solomon's body was what was really important. Finishing the work of his father was what truly needed to be done, but getting back at Florian was making it's way to becoming John's number one priority, and he would have to be patient first and wait for his chance alone with him. Patience is what his father always wanted out of him. Florian too was going to need a lot of patience for when John got a hold of him to do what he had in mind.

The Nazis lined up like working ants, following their leader into the depths of the cave that the map had brought them to. The darkness embraced them with opened arms. The world was theirs for the taking and what the cave had to offer them was even better than the world. None of these men were really archeologists, they were all soldiers, each and every one of them armed with a rifle. Florian was the only real archeologist amongst them but with the way he looked, people only thought of him as a soldier.

They found themselves in a room, different from the caves. The floor was littered with bodies. No other place so far that Florian had followed Thomas to had ever had dead bodies. This had to be the tomb. He knew it was true, he could breathe it in the air. The beautiful aroma of death's scent enchanted him to move forward. Finally, across from them was a wooden coffin. This was too easy. He ordered his men to open it. They used their rifles to pry it open and it gave way with centuries of age that had weakened it's seal. They all peered inside once the lid was gone. Nothing was in there but bone and ash, leftover from a withered corpse. The first thing Florian looked at were the hands… his fingers… The ring. It was there!

The ring was silver and withered with age and dirt. Of course something delivered from god did not look all that special, trying his best to make things look imperfect to be unrecognizable as works of his. Florian reached out for the ring and pulled the finger away with it. He tossed the bone aside and slowly slipped it onto his own hand. He expected to feel power flow through his body and be pulsing with white light and energy, but he felt nothing. Everything was the same. Maybe, quite possibly, the stories of god really were untrue. Or maybe all it's power had gone with it and no longer contained the seal of god. Was this even the same ring that was written about in the Testament of Solomon?

Suddenly one of the soldiers stopped breathing. He fell to the ground to gasp for air. They all huddled around to see what was happening to him. Then it began happening to another man, then another, and another, until finally Florian was the only man amongst them still standing. Life was drained from each and everyone of them and they laid lifeless on the ground of the tomb. Florian was left alone with Solomon and the ring, yet he could still hear something. It was a voice, and it was coming from inside his head.

"Power has been granted to you my friend. This is something that was not given to you, it doesn't belong to you. But you found it and it wants to be with you. It wants you to use it."

"Who's saying that?" Florian called out. His voice echoed back at him.

"I am Beelzebub. I am the darkness and the darkness has chosen you. I will help guide you through it's power, and in return you will help me."

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything."

The bodies of the dead Nazis began to rise up again with new life. Their faces were pale and distorted, as if their lives were no longer theirs. It belonged to something entirely else. They stood in front of Florian, they were undead but still behaved like soldiers. They lined up the same way they were before, ready to receive new orders from their master. This was going to be easy getting used to.

John and Jaron remained there in the tent, standing in the very same spot they were before. Like prisoners, waiting to be executed. It was all up to Florian and he was off somewhere looking for whatever the map lead him to. For all John and Jaron knew he had probably only found another map that lead to another pointless destination, but to their knowledge, they were very, very wrong.

John was getting sick of waiting around. Across from him was a table with some food and a revolver just laying there. The two guards weren't watching them anymore. They were playing with a deck of cards like a couple of idiots and they were on the opposite side of the tent near the entrance. He glanced repeatedly back and fourth between the guards and the table. If he made a move for that gun and it wasn't loaded he knew he would be screwed, but most likely he already was going to be screwed once Florian got back. It was his only chance and he wasn't going to wait for another to miraculously appear. Once one of the guards started dealing out the cards again, John made his move and dove for the gun. One of them shouted something out in German as they both stopped their game and raised their rifles. John knocked down the table and ducked behind it as he fired at his captors. They both went down before either of them could get a shot fired. John picked up Jaron by the arm and moved on out. They ran out of the tent together screaming, expecting to run into a hail of gunfire. But what they were greeted by was dead silence with no one in sight.

"Well this doesn't seem right," remarked John.

In the corner of John's eye, a lone figure grabbed his attention. He turned his head and standing there with the wind blowing in his hair was Florian. There was something different about his eyes, they were a ghostly white with no pupils, it looked almost as if he had no soul, and his face looked a whole lot uglier than the last time they had seen each other. John wasted no time and raised his pistol towards him and pulled the trigger. He remained standing there, not phased by anything. It was like the bullet had no effect on him.

"You're going to have to do a whole lot better than that if you want to kill me." Florian said.

John then ran at him, filled with fury and rage. Suddenly bodies dived out at him from underneath the sand. Hands tore and ripped at John's clothes as he was tackled by these inhuman beings. He struggled to get them off but they overpowered him as they began to bite and scratch at him. It was like being attacked by a pack of wild animals who had designated John as their main course. John felt around him and pulled out his gun and grabbed one of the creatures by the neck and pulled it towards him face to face. He put the gun to it's forehead as it snarled and spat in John's face. He pulled the trigger and blew it's brains out. Remnants of it's brain and skull covered John and the rest of the creatures scattered off of him. They were all regular looking human beings but they all behaved like wild animals, like men who had lost their souls and had been overpowered by an unnatural force. They were primitive and brutal, merciless but still unintelligent like the animals they behaved like. John didn't have any doubt about it, Florian had successfully found his ring alright. He looked to where Florian had been standing before and he was gone. He then turned around and Jaron was there in the sand, lying dead. He had been torn apart limb by limb by these things. They encircled John, ready to attack. When he had shot at Florian nothing had happened, but when he shot the other in the head it died. It seemed the only way you could kill them was by destroying the brain.

He moved sideways, trying to make his way to one of the Nazi's jeeps nearby as the creatures still followed. Another suddenly lashed out and attacked John but luckily his shot was point blank to it's head and it dropped dead. The creatures crawled on all fours, like wild tree monkeys jumping around in a wave of confusion. John shot at another one. He missed it's head and hit it's neck. The creature was angered by this and lashed out and scratched John's arm, almost making him drop his gun. He aimed his gun again and shot it a second time, hitting it in the face. He then shot and killed the other one that was standing beside it. There were only four more left and the jeep wasn't much farther. He checked the chamber on his gun as he struggled to keep an eye on the creatures that swarmed back and forth around him. He only had two more bullets left. One snuck up from behind John and nearly knocked him off his feet. He turned around and greeted it with a bullet to it's head. John was drenched in blood but didn't bother to wipe any of it from his face. He only had one bullet left. He stopped for a second and stood there and stared down the beasts in front of him, like a sheriff staring down a group of outlaws, being cautious about their next move as they seemed to do the same. Finally he jumped into the jeep and started the ignition. He shot one of the creatures as it made it's way into the jeep and then ran down the last two. He drove off into the desert, heading back into town. He checked the glove compartment and found another gun along with a letter written in German. The only thing on it he recognized was the word "France" and it was signed by Florian. Germany had recently occupied France and they were most likely next going to make their way into Britain. Florian must be planning to use this new power of his on his soldiers and have them make their way into the country. He was going to have to find someone who was going to believe him, which was most likely going to be no one. He was just going to have to leave out the part about the demon possessed Nazis.