It felt like electricity—the sound of the alarm blaring at the young Damien Chaput jolting him awake. Luckily for him, it was no longer class that he had to hurry to, as he was a fresh graduate of The University of Paris- so fresh, that the ink on his diploma wasn't even dry. His apartment was sparse, as everything was packed in boxes. He was moving, but he could still find the basic things that he needed to get ready for his day.

"Evening" was the more accurate term, however, as work required him to get up just before sunset. It felt less painful, getting up at this time than it did the early morning, but as his body got used to the change, it might. Sitting up in bed, he blinked for a moment and rubbed the sleep from his face before going through the motions. There was no point in taking a shower, as he would want to wash whatever grime he got coated in off when he got home. So, he brushed and styled his messy, brown hair- short on the sides, and long and floppy on top- brushed his teeth and got dressed, saving the rest of his gear for when he arrived. It was easier that way. It was easier to move around in public looking like an ordinary person. Thus, he had it all packed into a backpack and took it with him.

Setting out, he locked the front door as he left and got on the subway. Several stops later and he was at the pick-up site, where the car that would take him the rest of the way was waiting. Once Damien moved, he wouldn't need to travel so far, but until then, it was like he was receiving VIP treatment as one of Honeycutt's few supernatural agents.

Headquarters was a somewhat plain-looking building that was still clearly undergoing renovations. It had basic facilities installed and various rooms for the different facets of keeping the freaks at bay. Scanning his ID allowed him inside, where militia members were going about their evening, preparing for the few missions that the agency was able to send people out on, while the rest stayed and helped get things started. A few doctors, tech people, and the like had been given to the agency, but for now, they were operating on a skeleton crew for the time being. ORSAP would get there eventually, but right now, they were in the early days of its conception. Expecting them to be on par with HELLSING overnight was unreasonable.

Still, there was work for Damien to do. The young man went to the lockerroom where he usually put on the rest of his attire and unpacked his bag. He pulled out some pouches that snapped onto his body via a harness and a small container of homemade, black, paint. Opening it up, he dipped his middle and index finger inside and painted crosses over his eyes, obscuring his face. With this, the transformation from harmless, college student to powerful warlock had truly begun.

More items were still to come. A necklace made of gold and gemstones, some earrings, a pair of bracelets, and several rings for each finger. He tied perhaps his most immediately unsettling item around his waist. It was the pelt of a stray cat that he had skinned. Over it, he fastened his belt with the rest of his supply pouches and checked them for each tool that was supposed to be there. Finally, he tied a dark-blue cloak around his shoulders and kept it in place with a pin in the shape of a honeybee. From there, he placed his now empty backpack into a locker and moved on to receive his assignment.

In the conference room where they would be briefed on the mission sat only two people. The first was an orc who everyone called "Hugo." He didn't have a last name, so on his paperwork, it just said: "The Orc." He was a strange one, and not just because few people in the group had seen anyone like an orc before. He was found hiding in the catacombs beneath the city and not even he knew how long he had been down there. Naturally, upon realising that this group would keep him safe from both Iscariot and the general population, he jumped at the opportunity to join the organisation and enthusiastically went through a six-week training course alongside Damien, where they both learned how to be good soldiers. It was a bit of a learning curve, but they managed, somehow.

Hugo was decked out in his own gear and offered the warlock a smile before gesturing for him to sit down. At the head of the table, however, was a significantly less friendly face. Johnathan Beattie was there. He was a terrifying prescence, as always. While there was never anything wrong about him, as far as Damien or anyone else for that matter could see, there certainly was something that wasn't right about him, either. Then again, it was never wise to put one's full trust in a demon. Damien knew that much. He wasn't stupid. The fact that Johnathan did not look particularly enthusiastic was chilling, as Damien knew that something was not going as planned.

"There's two of you." Johnathan finally said, looking at his watch. "On time. The last one is late. Apparently, he wants everyone to be out until dawn."

The demon could see the tension held within his team's bodies, however, prompting him to flash them a smile. "Don't worry. I'm not angry with you. You did nothing wrong, of course. I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

Neither Damien nor Hugo could imagine what would happen should Johnathan have to get up and find the fourth man. Fortunately, they didn't have to find out, as the door opened. "Good evening." the man greeted.

Doctor Pierre Rigaud swaggered into the room with a smile on his face as if his tardiness was simply lost on him. He was a friendly-looking man in his forties with glasses, a stuffy haircut and a goatee that made him look "hip." Like the others, he wore his own gear with the Honeycutt bee on the breast pocket of his shirt and on the side of his sleeve. That alone was the only overtly threatening thing about him, visually, apart from his subtle, supernatural characteristics.

From the courses that everyone working there had been forced to attend on supernaturals, one could immediately pin him as a vampire- a dangerous one at that, from the crimson hue of his eyes, indicating that he had bitten and completely drained a human of their blood via a bite. Some vampires drained blood using tools, but a bite was vicious and primal. It was the sort of violence that all vampires, no matter how kind and sweet they were, were capable of if driven to the point of near starvation, but given the man's stature, he didn't seem to have that problem. Furthermore, Damien heard whispers on his former campus when the doctor was working there as a professor. When he suddenly stopped, many people were surprised, but many were also not. Damien was surprised to find him here, of all places and as a vampire, no less. Once the novelty had worn off, however, Damien found those rumours to be more and more plausible despite not having any solid proof. Naturally, the doctor taught philosophy and ethics, of course.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Doctor Rigaud stated as he sat down. "I had trouble getting up and then I couldn't find the room!"

"Well, human error is always a factor when it comes to working with others, Doctor." Johnathan replied, getting up to close the door. "I do hope that this won't become a habit, however. Given your former profession, I believe you are well-acquainted with the annoyance that tardiness can cause, and the impression that it can leave when the habit is carried over, professionally. It is important work that we're doing and I only expect behaviour that inspires confidence from each and every member of staff."

"My apologies, Mister Stark." the Doctor answered.

"Like I said: Don't let it become a habit." With the door now closed, the demon walked back toward his seat. "Now that we're all here, let's get started. This is typical mission that I feel does not warrant much explanation, as we have all done this before. Tonight, we will be going on yet another catacomb expedition."

No one was happy about it, but no one dared vocalise it. First of all, there was no point in arguing. They would have to go on the mission either way. Secondly, they did not want to argue with the demon, knowing that they didn't even have strength in numbers against him. A warlock, an orc, and a vampire were simply no match for him if he decided he did not like their response. Still, their eyes gave their feelings away.

"I know it isn't particularly exciting," Johnathan continued, "But it is necessary. That is where many supernaturals fled to, and if we're going to find more supernatural recruits like Hugo, that is a good place to start. Furthermore, if there is a vampire hiding any ghouls down there, we need to get rid of them before they can surface again."

"What about the girls?" Doctor Rigaud questioned. "Couldn't they do it?"

"Two of them don't speak French and Miss Perron has the night off." Johnathan explained.

"Second job?"

"Her daughter has been taking dance classes, and she wants to be there for her."

"Sure, that's what she says..."

"Regardless, you are the ones who will be working and I expect you to do a halfway decent job." The demon turned around, facing the map pinned to the wall and picked up a marker. "Here is the entrance that we used last time and our previous route in green. This, however, is the route that we are going to explore this time." he said, drawing a series of lines on the map in red ink. "This should take us through the area Hugo said that there are usually supernaturals, so we should be on our guard. We will ask them to join us, but be cautious if they reject us. If they get violent, though, we shoot to kill."

Turning around again, the demon placed the lid on his marker and pointed to each of his associates with it, one-by-one. "Hugo, we'll need you to help us negotiate with the locals and help us stay en route. Rigaud, we need your night vision to let us know if any hostiles are trying to sneak up on us. Damien, you'll use your magic to stabilise any injuries the other two may obtain and to keep hostiles at bay. Your shields are useful, here. But, since you're ORSAP's only magical expert at the moment, Rigaud and Hugo need to have your back. It'll be expensive to revive you if you die."

"Wait, what? You can do that?" Damien questioned.

"That's what I said. I can't make bodies from scratch, though, so that's where the expense comes in." The flatness with which the demon said that didn't cushion the shock that Damien felt upon learning this. He had assumed that some had tried to use magic in such a way, as that is one of the things that all living things feared. Kings had given obscene rewards to those who claimed that they could give them a cure for death, but no such thing had ever been confirmed to exist, as far as Damien knew, but then again, his knowledge of supernatural affairs was limited.

The Iscariot organisation had forced supernaturals into hiding. Any trace of magic or inhumanity could mean certain death and the decimation of entire families. It had gotten worse, with time. As the age of monsters came to an end and the modern world creeped in, the world of magic had been dying for quite some time. Magic was forbidden in his home. Not one single whisper of it could be spoken of it for the longest time and even now, Damien could not get his parents to even consider dipping a toe into it. They didn't understand themselves just how tragic that it was for them to not know magic and for them to refuse to allow Damien to teach them, but they did not have the time to dwell on such things. They were too worried about survival and were deeply burdened by the knowledge of what they were. At least they knew. Many of Damien's relatives did not. All they knew was that there was supposedly a witch or two "some ways back." He had cousins who he could sense the magical energy of, that were completely unaware that they were not fully human. Maybe they would never find out. Maybe they would believe that they were ordinary forever.

But Damien knew. He had traveled to other lands, learning what his family could not teach him. He knew basic magic used for everyday things and he knew magic that was forbidden in the United Kingdom, but either way, he was looking forward to meeting the expert of HELLSING to see what more he could learn about himself. Still, he had never, ever, heard of proof that the magic that Johnathan had spoke of existed.

As everyone was briefed on what everyone's tasks were, Damien couldn't help but fixate on it, even as all of them got up to leave. Could it be a spell? What kind? What would that entail? How does one build a body? How does one create life without one? He didn't know, even as they were all piled into an armoured truck and heading down the street.

All of them had a gun, even if they weren't particularly keen on using them. Johnathan would have preferred it if they did, but using fragile humans in an excursion such as this was unwise. It was wasteful, even. The close quarters would make them easy prey for more carnivorous supernaturals that stalk the catacombs- in particular, those who were sanguinous.

Still, down once more, the group went. Downward, into the impenetrable blackness. Downward, into the den of monsters. Downward, they were led- led by a bonafide devil. Death coated every wall as bones were built into the architecture of the labyrinthine tunnels, watching them as they progressed through empty sockets.

The catacombs of Paris stretched for over two-hundred miles, with many parts undisturbed, while others were horrendously vandalised by tasteless n'er-do-wells who fancied themselves "artists." Trash littered the floor in these places, although surprisingly, they were much cleaner than one would think. There wasn't a bottle in sight and although there were cigarette packages strewn about, there were no butts, save for a few burned completely down to the filter. As the group delved deeper, however, these areas disappeared.

All that was left were walls and walls of bones staring at the group, causing Damien to feel a bit uneasy. The others, however, remained unbothered, at least on the surface. Doctor Rigaud was hard to place, but Johnathan was completely at ease. There wasn't any trace of tension in his body, as far as anyone could see in the dim light. Hugo seemed uneasy, but his focus was always down the halls that they passed and the halls ahead of them- never on their morbid surroundings. He was used to the bones and darkness. It was simply part of living there.

Only the sounds of their footsteps on the stone and dirt floor could be heard for blocks and blocks as they traversed the tunnels, but everyone's ears were open for any changes. Adrenaline spiked through the systems of the ORSAP members as Johnathan's pace slowed, alerting them that they needed to be ready for some sort of contact. "Someone's up ahead." the demon informed. That's all that he needed to say for them to be fully prepared for combat. "They're approaching slowly."

Still, they advanced while trying to stifle any noise. They stepped carefully and quietly, with tense muscles and the hair on the back of their necks standing on end. More information came in as more time passed.

"Not human." Johnathan said. "Human-sized, but not human. Not a vampire, either. Something else. I don't know the word for it."

"What's the English?" Damien whispered.

"'Ghoul.'" While the warlock could speak English, he still couldn't place that word, so his hopes of having some foresight were dashed. "Vampires make them."

A light chuckle came from Doctor Rigaud. It didn't inspire any sort of confidence at all. Everyone kept their eyes peeled and persisted on, despite not knowing what they were up against.

"It's almost here." the demon informed, the sound of blood pumping in the group's ears now drowning out the sound of their footsteps. As they approached, however, they could hear the sound of feet shuffling around the next corner. "In five… four… three… two…"

All guns pointed in that direction. Lo, and behold, the vague outline of a human being was slightly visible in the darkness, sporting a pair of bright, glowing, red, eyes staring back at the group, with a horrible groaning sound gurgling from its throat. Johnathan and the doctor could see the creature clear as day, but the other two had to wait until it got closer to see it's disgusting visage.

It looked like a young man; pale, slack-jawed, and showing signs of early decay. His teeth were yellowed and a horrible stench followed him as he clumsily staggered toward the quartet with an arm outstretched. His clothes were trendy, with an Apple Watch still on his wrist, but his backpack was ripped open and empty- undoubtedly, it was ransacked by other catacomb-dwellers who thought he may have something useful. He probably did, as he appeared to be some poor youth who decided that exploring the tunnels would be a good time. It was odd that he was alone, but where he came from, there were probably friends of his- lord knows what happened to them. Perhaps they had their blood drained by the vampire that bit this poor ghoul, perhaps they were eaten by some other supernatural, or perhaps they were eaten by their friend, here. If Johnathan and his team were lucky, they would find out.

"Don't shoot him." Johnathan said over the strained, monotone droning that came from in front of him. "The guns might spook other supernaturals nearby."

"Then what do we do?!" demanded Damien. "It's coming right at us!"

Johnathan opened his mouth to answer, only for a large mass to run past him, calling out a battle cry. Hugo's gun was strapped to his back as he rushed at the ghoul with his fist raised above his head, clenching a dagger. Typically, close-range weapons provided by anti-freak organisations were a last resort, but the orc didn't seem to mind or care as he sheathed the weapon directly inside of the ghoul's chest. Yanking it out, he stabbed the creature again, allowing it to fall off of his blade and onto the ground, motionless, as the glow from its eyes faded and its horrible voice became silent.

Placing his weapon back in the sheath on his hip, Hugo sniffed and turned around. "I got him." he said with a smile, eagerly awaiting praise from his team.

"Good job, Hugo. But next time, don't yell." Johnathan replied as he stepped forward, eventually walking past the orc. "We have to be quiet."

Crouching down next to the body, Hugo didn't rejoin his group right away. "Can I have his stuff?"

"Go ahead. He's not using any of it. Just don't take long. We need the group to stay together."

Eagerly, Hugo searched his kill, as customary in the catacombs, finding nothing but the earrings in the victim's ears and the watch around his wrist. "I wish I could wear these… They're so pretty..."

"Pierce your ears and you can. You should wash them first." suggested Doctor Rigaud.

"Remind me how a professor of ethics condone stealing from corpses and wearing their jewelry?" spoke the warlock beside him in perfect monotone.

"There are many ways of approaching an ethics issue. If the object no longer holds any value to the person, then it can be argued that taking it can be ethical, as it does not harm the person in any way. Now, if they were family heirlooms or the victim's family wanted his belongings to be returned for sentimental reasons, then that could pose a greater conundrum. But, since we will never know, it is not worth worrying about, I suppose."

"I am so glad I didn't major in that shit..." Damien muttered, prompting Rigaud to laugh.

"Oh, that's right… You're a chemistry major. And how, pray tell, did that turn out?"

"How did your teaching job turn out? Oh, that's right..."

The doctor frowned as Damien rubbed his thumb on the underside of his chin, but before either of them could dwell on it for very long, their leader spoke up. "Let's keep moving."

Despite the jokes, the presence of a dead body was unnerving to Damien. It wasn't even that Hugo "killed" it. It was already dead. Yet Damien walked around it cautiously as they advanced, somewhat frightened that it may spring back to life and bite his ankles if he didn't pay attention. The others, however, had no such concerns. The young man supposed that he shouldn't either, given what this organisation was and how they did things. He still had a lot on his mind, however, so it was ultimately still difficult to focus. Death was a confusing thing for him lately. Dead things could be crudely animated, but also the dead could be completely revived, if Johnathan was to be believed. Taking that information in and participating in killings over and over again made the warlock feel numb to the concept. It was like it simply didn't matter. Dead today can be alive tomorrow, but he wanted to know how.

"You said you could revive us if one of us dies, right?" he questioned, directing his inquiry at the demon. "How? Is it magic?"

"Is this really a question for right now?" Johnathan asked, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. His tone immediately alerted Damien that he had made a mistake in asking, prompting the warlock to shrink a bit.

"No… It's not… Sorry..."

There was a pause, filled with only the sound of their footsteps before either of them spoke again. "I'd take your soul and put it somewhere safe before Death takes it." Johnathan explained. "Then, I'd take your body and clone it. Cloning isn't cheap, so don't die."

"I see..." That was all the warlock felt safe saying, but luckily for him, the leader of his team guessed what he really wanted to know."

"There's a way to do it using alchemy and magic." the demon continued. "I have no idea how to do it, though. There's a book that can tell you how, but it's supposedly hard to read and it's locked away in a place nobody can get to anymore. It's called 'The Book of Akeldama.' It's supposedly the ultimate magic book. I know you'd love to get your hands on it, wouldn't you?"

"Have you seen it?"

"No. Never. I'd be killed on the spot if I tried. I have no interest in it, anyway. It doesn't suit my needs. Even if I got close to it, security's changed. Years ago, I could've used some of hi—my blood, and recited a spell and get past. I have no idea how it's changed, but I'm sure it has. The one who owns it isn't an idiot."

"Do demons not need that kind of magic?" asked Doctor Rigaud, finally speaking up. "Surely if you had that, you could do all kinds of things, right?"

"I could, but someone else has already tried it, and I'm not interested in being some weak little copycat. No…" The demon paused for a moment, clasping his hands in front of himself with his fingers entwined. He squeezed tightly before softening his grip and examining his blackened nails.

"What do demons even want? Don't you want to drag people to hell or eat their souls?" Pierre piped up again when Johnathan trailed off. "It's sort of weird to imagine that one would simply be invested in helping supernaturals and humans."

To that, the demon looked over his shoulders at the group. He smiled at them sweetly. It was a sick, twisted, sort of sweetness that looked pleasant, but didn't envoke any feeling of warmth in the slightest. Instead, the sight of Johnathan's face caused dread to pool in the pit of his team's stomachs as they once again tried to decipher what he was thinking.

"You'd be surprised." he said. "Some demons are just born 'different.' I'm not the first demon to do this job and I definitely won't be the last. While most demons are all about getting their next fix of human souls to fill the miserable void they have inside of themselves, some demons know that there are much more exciting things out there. There is just so much better to live for, you know?"

"Like art, music, and women?" Rigaud suggested. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to taste food again… Luckily, I can still enjoy everything else, especially now with that shade gel stuff Damein makes."

"I suppose those are nice things." The group didn't know if he was going to add anything to that, so they waited, only for the demon to keep walking in silence.

"I don't understand some of those, but the food in the canteen is good." added Hugo, breaking the silence. "There isn't any good food down here."

"Unless you're a vampire, perhaps." Doctor Rigaud corrected, prompting the orc to nod in agreement.

"Quiet. There's someone else coming." Johnathan chimed in, but Hugo didn't stop talking.

"Well, we are close to a spot that people live in. We'll probably run into actual people." informed the orc. "I can go ahead and check it out if-"

"No. We stay with the group." The demon stepped in front of Hugo, staring him down before he could make much progress down the hall, forcing him back into position. Johnathan wasn't happy about Hugo's earlier actions, despite them being successful, as Johnathan was never happy when things went against his expectations—especially when it came to people.

Sheepishly, the group persisted, creeping closer to the target that Johnathan was sensing. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was small. It wasn't a torchlight. Perhaps it was a lighter. It flickered as Johnathan held up his hand and started counting down. Then, a voice called out.

"Who's there?" it asked. It was a deep voice and sounded almost sickly. "I see your light. Who are you?"

"Artus!" Hugo called out with a smile. He turned to his associates. "I know him! Artus! It's me! Hugo!"

"Hugo?" Artus questioned as he got closer. "It's been over a month! We thought you were dead, you bastard!"

"I've found a better place to be than here. I've brought friends with me!"

"More outsiders? With your ugly mug? I find that hard to believe. I don't have anything to share if them, if that's what you want to know. If they're at all human-looking, they should stay toward the front! We don't need them!"

Heavy footsteps approached until the militia members saw a face illuminated by the lighter in Artus' massive hand. It was a large face, belonging to an ogre, with skin tags here and there and lots of scarring on one side. His hands were worn and his frame was slender for an ogre—far too slender to be at all healthy. The dance of his lighter's flame reflected in his big, blue, eyes, before going out as a startled expression appeared on his face.

"Good God!" Artus shouted upon seeing the group and their guns. Hugo shined his flashlight on him so that he couldn't use the cover of darkness to get away.

"Don't be scared, Artus! We're not Iscariot! We're not here to hurt you!" the orc pleaded. "We're with ORSAP! It's… The… Uh…

"Organisme des Recherches Supernaturalles et des Activies Paranormales.'" Damien stated.

"Right! That."

"Who cares about that?!" the ogre gawked. "I don't care who the hell they are! They've come down here with guns and nobody comes down here with guns for a good reason!"

"We're fighting the bad guys, Artus. The bad eggs that make things hard for the rest of us! Things are changing! In England, they have whole towns where supernaturals are able to live with no one botherin' 'em! And they're gonna make places like that here, too. Right now, though, they give me a nice place to sleep, good food, and good clothes for helping them! I even get money!" Stepping closer to his friend, he held open his arms. "We're looking for people to join up with us. We can get everybody out of here!"

"At what cost, eh?" Artus asked. "Eh?! What will they have us do in exchange? Do you remember Rodolphe? Do you remember what happened when he tried to help Iscariot in exchange for safety? He died! He sold out his family and friends and for what? Nothing!"

"It's not like that..."

"I don't care!" Artus declared, putting his marred face close to Hugo's. "If you really are the 'good guys,' then you will leave us all alone!"

"But if we do, you'll all have to leave again! Some of the vampires have been attacking humans and hiding down here! If we let them continue, then the humans will get suspicious and they'll come down here and find everyone!"

"That is what vampires do! That is what humans do! The vampires take care of any humans that come down here! They do a really good job of it, too! They keep the place clean! There being less humans on the surface doesn't break my heart any! Now go! I've had enough of you… Don't come back..."

"Artus-"

"Mister Artus, you have my utmost reassurance that we mean no harm." Johnathan chimed in. "We respect that we cannot sway you and that there are profound differences in the way that we live and operate. However, there are indeed hostile vampires in these catacombs that must be dealt with. Our offer to join us still stands, but whether you take it or not, those vampires have to go."

The ogre stared at him, narrowing his eyes. His gaze was relentlessly skeptical and held for a few excruciating moments before it turned to Hugo again. "I have no idea what that guy is saying." he said. "He talks funny! What kind of French is that? I don't trust it. I don't trust any of you. Get out of here! Leave and leave well enough alone! We don't want your help and you can't help us any!"

Johnathan scowled as Artus turned to leave, lighting his lighter and heading down the corridor from whence he came. The others noticed his body stiffening and his jaw and fists clenching. The air around him seemed to change as a dark expression came over the demon. Then, he placed a hand over Hugo's forcing him to point the flashlight downward.

"Turn out your lights." he instructed. His tone was absolute. Thus, the group did as they were told, shrouding themselves in complete darkness. Only Johnathan and Doctor Rigaud could see through the blackness. The rest could only see the dim flicker of Artus' lighter growing smaller and smaller down the hallway.

Everything went silent. The group anxiously awaited Johnathan's next order, but it never came. Why was he just standing there? Was there danger? Was there something else? Hugo had already made enough mistakes that night, so he stood motionless in the dark, not wanting to anger Johnathan any further. After a while, however, he grew impatient as the seconds passed on like hours and the group collectively started to forget how to breathe. Cautiously, he reached out toward the demon, wondering why he was so still, but he could not touch him. The orc only grabbed air.

"Stop that." Doctor Rigaud whispered. "Don't do anything."

With that, Hugo was still once more. His body was tense and his ears were tuned in to his surroundings. He stared down the hallway at the light as it grew smaller, and smaller, still. Then, the orc and his Warlock compatriot both nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of Artus' shocked gasp. Their hearts fell into their stomachs at the sound of the loud crack that immediately followed.

"You can probably turn your light back on." Pierre informed, but Hugo did not want to. He didn't want to see what it was that Johnathan had done. Damien, however, the ever-curious young man he was, did it anyway. He switched on his flashlight and shined it down the hall.

There, Johnathan stood up from crouching over the ogre's body. The demon loosened his shoulders and sniffed before looking back at his team. His eyes were aglow with a bright red hue and he appeared to be rather pleased with himself. Yet, there was a look about him that appeared to be silently warning them: "I could do this to you too, if I wanted to."

Damien wanted to turn off the light, but he couldn't look away. Neither he nor Hugo could. They just stared back at the demon, unblinking, like deer caught in headlights. Then, the brute spoke.

"Let's go." he said. "There's more up ahead."

A/N: I just looked at the calendar and realised just how late this update is... I'm on break, so time isn't moving the same way, it seems... What the fuck happened?

Anyway, I wanted to introduce new characters and parts of ORSAP. Obviously, things aren't that great with Johnathan in charge...

I have to relearn how to write for him, as he's undergone QUITE a few changes from DLTP... He's a Ciel look-alike and his methods have sort of changed. He also has this bizarre kind of philosophy on how he wants to do things and while I understand it, it's going to be a (fun) challenge to introduce to all of you!

Like always, let me know what you think, because there's some fun little details that I want to hear your thoughts on!

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!