Two in one day! Here we meet another couple of characters. Hope you enjoy - leave a review if you do. :) More coming ASAP!

Isabel felt fingers gently tracing through her hair - felt pointed nails on her scalp. And god… it felt wonderful.

She couldn't touch people. Never could - not even when she was younger. It either shut her down with her uncontrollable visions - or worse, it knocked out whoever it was that she touched. Dropped them back into their own minds and let them find their own way out.

When she was a teenager, she had a boyfriend. James. He was a funny, wonderfully bizarre, suicidal little thing. 'Goth' had been the phrase for what they were. Morbid, irritated by others, and often sitting alone to the side with friends of a similar disposition. They all believed what she was without question. Hell, half of them considered themselves witches or what-have-you.

They had sat there, listening to Marilyn Manson, Alice Cooper, Ozzy Osbourne and Rob Zombie, and James had welcomed death. More importantly, he had welcomed her weirdness.

The two of them had touched, and she had invaded his mind. And he, too, suffered the uncontrollable visions. He loved the 'sessions' - loved the torture of it all - and slowly, over a long period of time, she began to be able to control it. Or at least… she thought she had.

Never more than a hand-in-hand, or a hug… finally, when those things no longer resulted in unconsciousness for either of them - he had gone in for a kiss, and she had let him.

He never came out of the coma.

The family had blamed her, of course. A drug overdose they couldn't track - but some bad influence on her part. She welcomed the blame. Even they hadn't had the symptom right… the disease was the same.

And so she withdrew. Gave up any hope of romance, any hope of contact with another person. She had friends - a lot of them, over the years - and coworkers. None that she ever let get close. None that ever wanted to get close, once they learned the price.

"How wonderfully tragic a tale that is…"

She woke, slowly, hearing the low base rumble of of a powerful voice near her. Fingers in her hair - oh right… That. Isabel opened her eyes, blinked, and tried to figure out what was happening. She was lying on a cot of some kind. A blanket had been pulled up over her, and there was a figure sitting on the edge of the cot, looming over her. A dark blot against a dimly lit ceiling. No features to be seen, save one.

Red eyes flickered in the darkness.

She tensed, and a finger touched over her lips. "Ssh… Be still, lest you wake. This time, my little dove… I am inside your mind..."

She forced herself to calm down - forced herself to swallow the panic. She didn't know why she listened to him - didn't know why she felt compelled to let him stay here, in her semi-dreaming state.

"Someone has taken you... I believe they mean to kill you. I will let no one harm you," she heard him growl possessively over her. That sent a shiver through her, and she felt his hands on her shoulders, gently pressing her down into the cot, insistent that she remain still. "Tell me what you can remember... "

Isabel let her eyelids half-shut, and let herself drift backwards over the course of the day. "A name…" she murmured.

"Tell me," he demanded.

She opened her eyes again, and looked up at his shadowy form. She knew he wasn't really there - that he was invading her mind like she had done to him. In her half-drugged, half-dreaming state, she reached up to try and touch his face. She had no idea why.

She felt his hand on hers, and felt her palm pressed against his cheek. It felt… cool. Lips touched her palm, and she pulled in a wavering breath. God, that sent a thrill up her spine. Wait - what was happening..? What was she doing..?

"I believe I enjoy you like this…" he purred into her skin, and she felt the barest graze of teeth against her. "Now tell me their name… Before I cannot stop them."

She pulled in a long, slow breath, and debated her choice. She could not save her friends if she were dead. She said the names in one slow breath and felt unconsciousness creeping up on her again. "Maverick…"

"She still out?"

"Yeah. She was muttering to herself for a little while there, but then she nodded back out."

"When she wakes up, please don't forget to give her some food, okay Tim?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"No grudges because she shot you."

"Yeah, yeah! I get it, I get it."

It was a while longer after the voices stopped before she managed to pick up her head. She felt so damn tired. It felt like she hadn't slept in years. At least whatever they had slipped her had done a good job at letting her rest. She pushed the blanket off of her, and swung her legs over the edge of the cot, and groaned as she sat up. Her head felt like it weight a half a ton - but it cleared.

God she was really sick of waking up dizzy, or concussed, or drugged.

She remembered the vision of Dracula. How she had reached up to touch him. Why?! Why the fuck would she do that?! She looked down at her hands, and blamed the dream she had been having of James. The memory of touching someone.

"Good morning, sunshine," a sarcastic voice piped from near her.

Looking up - it was the 'young priest' from the church. The one she had - wait. Hold the fuck up.

"Didn't I shoot you?"

"Yeah, yeah you did, Princess."

"I don't… I don't understand. I shot you in the chest - point blank!" Isabel exclaimed. "I'm a bad shot, but I'm not that bad."

The man shrugged. "Whatever. Look, I'm only here to tell the Boss when you're awake. And you're awake." He got up, then snapped his fingers, sighed, and looked at her. "And give you food, apparently. Because now I'm your babysitter. But what the Boss commands, the Boss commands."

The fake priest reached into his coat pocket, and chucked her a cliff bar. She caught it, looked down at it, and smirked. "Thanks." Okay, fine, he was mad at her… for… shooting him… and how he survived, she still had no idea. But she'd leave that mystery for another day.

"Clean yourself up, if you can," he snorted. Fauxpriest, which she decided was his name until told otherwise, walked out of the room. Fifteen minutes or so later, he came back with another man who just… screamed 'hey, I'm a vampire and I think it makes me super badass.' Leather pants, black shirt. He looked like a bad club cliche.

She let them lead her through the hallways - Fauxpriest in front, the vampire in back. She didn't fight them - she was unarmed, unprepared, and had no clue where she was. And Fauxpriest was probably really happy to pay her some pain for… y'know, shooting him in the chest.

He looked human. Felt human. What the hell?

Isabel was ushered into a room with a metal table in the center of it. The chairs were aluminum - the whole place was some kind of medical laboratory. Clean, modern, sterile. Tim and the vampire that was helping him pushed her inside the room and shut the door behind her.

She was not there alone.

Standing by the glass window which overlooked the city of Boston was a man with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in a neat white coat and his hands clasped idly behind his back. He was looking at the darkened castle across the river - she realized she was in Cambridge. In some… pharmacology firm, she assumed. Could have been any of them - there were dozens in the suburb that prided itself on science.

He turned to look at her - and one glance at his yellow eyes told her that he was another vampire. Great. But this one seemed… older than the ones she met recently. But like the room - clean… sterile.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. ..?" he paused, waiting for her to say her last name.

"Just Isabel," she said uncomfortably. "Skip the last bit for now, please."

He seemed confused, but, obliged. He gestured to the table, and for her to sit in a chair on one side. Fidgeting, she knew she really didn't have a choice. No point in being rude or screaming and thrashing against the glass. She went and sat down in the chair, and watched him as picked up a box from a desk, and walked to the table near her. "My name is Maverick, as you likely assumed. I would like to ask you some questions."

"Why… why am I here? Why am I your prisoner?"

"As you may now realize - monsters such as I and many more are quite real. We have existed for time immemorial, and we have always been here. There are several… vampires-" he seemed reluctant to say the word, but finally accepted it like some easy yet somewhat loathsome shorthand "-such as myself, who are considered more influential than most and therefore, in 'charge' of keeping our kind in check. Lord Dracula, upon his return, summoned us all to him and amongst his other demands… commanded that we find you."

That asshole said someone 'took me.' Yeah, they took me because he told them to! Anger bristled in her and she was careful not to let it show. That was way more than she wanted to explain right now to this stranger. Unless, she thought - this vampire 'Maverick' took her and… hasn't given her up yet. That's the only reason why Dracula would try to find out from her where she was.

Maverick stood beside her, placing the box on the table. Reaching into it, he produced a syringe, and she felt fear start to boil up in her. Oh god, what now?

He tapped the syringe, one pale finger and pointed nail flicking against the glass. He moved towards her, and she pulled back reflexively. "What's that?" she asked - equally curious and nervous at the same time.

"It will ensure you speak the truth," Maverick spoke, his voice quiet and measured. "I do not have the luxury of time for games." Somehow, she felt that he knew what Dracula was doing… knew that he was toying with her. And this new vampire was making it very clear he was uninterested in such things.

The apparent scientist at first felt blank to her, but Isabel knew better. He was simply able to hide his feelings better than some. He took her wrist in his gloved hand, and turned her arm over. She knew better than to resist - he'd overpower her without trying, let alone his assistants and Tim waiting outside the room.

"Please - I don't have anything to gain by lying to you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper - and he paused. "I'm not stupid enough to think I'm getting out of here alive. Either you kill me, or…" she trailed off, knowing she didn't need to fill in the blanks for the vampire. "You don't need to do that," she insisted. She had enough of being knocked out or knocked silly.

Maverick looked at her thoughtfully - although she felt his pause more than she saw it, to be honest. He put the syringe down on the table near her, and removed his hand from her wrist - his movements measured and precise.

"Besides," she commented idly. "A glass of bourbon would've done the same thing."

That drew a smirk from the man - his nearly yellow eyes watching her from behind his glasses. She wondered if he really needed them - or if they were just a remnant of his mortal self.

"What are you so curious about anyway - I mean, you don't even need to ask me-" Isabel began, then paused, and silently answered her own question. If he said he was a servant of Dracula, then - "Oh." She looked away. If she was right - that he may call Dracula 'Lord' but he may not be a faithful servant - she'd let him confirm it. She was a good liar, and able to control the emotions she portrayed.

"Hm? What is it you have just concluded?" Maverick asked, putting a gloved finger under her chin and gently turning her face back towards him. She tried not to flinch out of his grasp.

"I was trying to figure out why you're even bothering to talk to me anyway - especially if you think you need to drug me to get answers - when our mutual friend probably knows everything you want to know." Isabel took in a slow breath, and finished her though with an exhale, not enjoying the implications. "Unless he's not giving you details."

"He has, despite our inquiries, told us nothing about you or why you hold such particular interest to him. All of his 'generals' were ordered to issue our best men - and for those of us who have them, companions - to fetch you immediately. Every night, he clamors after us for news. So you must be, at the very least - interesting to him." He released her chin from his hand.

Isabel sighed and shut her eyes, putting her hand over her face. "I'm not interesting. He gets obsessed. I'm sure this has happened before. That's all I am."

"Perhaps. So you say you are perfectly normal. Yet Dracula insists that you cannot be touched - and he informs us that he means it literally, and not figuratively."

"I never said I was normal," she lowered her hand and looked back up at him. "Just not interesting. Not for long anyway."

"Then tell me what I need to know," Maverick stood up, walked to the other side of the table, and sat down. He left the syringe sitting next to her on the cold metal surface - she knew it was a reminder. He was trusting her for now - up until the point he no longer did.

"What're your questions…?"

"How did you meet our 'mutual acquaintance?'"

"I worked with a small team of treasure hunters and odd-jobs. We were paid by a client to get inside a mausoleum and search for a sword. So… we did." Isabel winced, despite herself. The image of Dracula eating Tex flashing back into her mind. She'd keep that image with her for a long time. "And he ate a man."

Maverick folded his hands in front of him on the table, lacing his fingers together, and waited patiently to continue. When she hesitated, he prompted her without malice or impatience. LIke a doctor. "And?"

"He touched me… and we… had a shared vision. He told me he wanted to kill me slowly… So he let me run. The client showed up with a small army and wanted to figure out how to use the sword to his own gains… And if not that, how to farm Dracula for blood to become immortal or rich on the black market."

"Fool."

Isabel snorted. "No kidding."

"What business had you in deciphering the sword?"

Isabel paused for a while and debated exactly what he was asking her for a moment. "My gift… is useful on more than just people."

"Yes, I have heard that much." Maverick watched her carefully, his yellow eyes glinting in the overhead light. "I wish to know the specific extents of your gift."

Isabel shook her head. "That's like asking someone to tell you 'everything about themselves.' I don't even know where to start."

"You read emotions. What else?"

"Memories, vague thoughts… nothing specific. I can't tell you what number you're thinking of - I can't tell you what you… who you… had for breakfast-" Maverick laughed once, and that made her smile. "I can tell you what you're feeling. I can tell when people are lying."

"Is that why you dislike being touched?"

"No. That's why I can't be touched," she corrected him, bitterness twinging her voice. "If I touch things - or people - I get a rush of details. It all floods me at once - it's overwhelming. I can see into people's memories - I can't control it. I get pulled into visions whether I want to or not. Either I get knocked out… or they do. So fine. I 'don't like' being touched," she finished and put air quotes around the last statement. "Like most people 'don't like' being punched in the face."

"You can impart information from objects?"

Isabel nodded. "Easily. Things hold onto memories just as much as people." Pausing, she focused in on the vampire, and felt a hint of a feeling and followed the string. "I can tell you that your ring on your right hand is very important to you. It was a gift to you from someone you loved dearly. You would rather lose your hand - than it." Isabel let her vision fall out of focus slightly as she thought. "If I really focus, I can almost see her."

Isabel blinked, snapping out of it as she heard a small 'tink' against the table.

The ring that she was talking about - gold, with a single sapphire, delicately placed - lay on the table in front of her. Isabel swallowed reflexively.

"Take it. And tell me what you see."

Isabel met his gaze - and he sat there, unwavering - like a statue. They were all like statues. But his yellow eyes were flickering with something more. "You sure?" she asked. He nodded once, simply.

Isabel let out a small breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She took off the glove on her right hand, and, reaching out, she let her hand hover over the ring. "Oookay," she said quietly, and picked it up.

It felt warm in her hand. And it wasn't from any body heat from him, that was for sure. She shut her eyes, and let the images flow through her.

"She was the one who made you a vampire," she said, muttering almost, as the images and memories and feelings flowed over her like a river. "You loved her. And she you. You knew what she was," she smiled. These were happy memories. A young mortal man and a vampiress, smitten with each-other. It was an interesting story, one she only saw in snippets and flashes. He was a doctor, and intent on studying her 'illness.' She saw glimpses of him fussing over her, tinkering away with glass vials and bottles. She had a distinct memory of peering through an old microscope - it looked like it was from the late 18th century. A hand fell on 'his' shoulder - and she felt the warmth bristle through him in the memory, almost like it was her own emotion. "Aria," she heard him speak her name, and she said it aloud as he did in her mind.

Isabel jolted as his hand touched her gloved one. She broke out of the vision, and she saw him holding his hand palm up near her. She gently dropped the ring into his palm, careful not to touch him. She put the glove back on her hand quickly. The connection broken, she blinked and looked back at him. "I… I'm sorry." She was trembling - every connection took something out of her. She put her hand flat against the table to keep it from shaking. "I don't… I didn't want to pry."

"You have done nothing wrong," Maverick was smiling faintly as he replaced the ring back on his hand.

"May I… May I ask you something?" He looked back at her, and did not respond. Taking that as a 'sure,' she continued. "What... happened to her?" Isabel winced, waiting for the worst.

Maverick smiled faintly, almost kindly. "Why do you fret?"

"It just… I don't know," Isabel put her hands in her lap, not knowing how to answer the question. "You two just felt so… I-"

"She is not dead," Maverick smiled legitimately now - the first full smile she'd seen from him. "We are still as you saw us then, if changed by time."

She felt relief - and knew she shouldn't care. But the stupid side effect of being what she was, is that she cared. She always did. She was a stupid bleeding heart, and feeling the memories that lay in that ring, it was hard not to be happy that the two of them were still together. If she weren't such a bleeding heart, she would have left Adam and Eric to their own ends, after all.

"Your kindness will be your undoing, I fear."

"Arguably already has." Speaking of Him - a thought occurred to her. "Have you told… Dracula… that I'm here?" Saying the name still felt stupid. She had told Dracula Maverick's name in her semi-vision - and she felt a sudden worry that he would murder Maverick before asking questions. She scolded herself in her mind that she shouldn't care. She was this thing's prisoner, and for all she knew, he was going to rip her throat out to keep Dracula from getting what he wanted.

"No," Maverick responded, shrugging. "I wished to learn from you what I could before losing my access to you."

"Is there… is there any chance you'd let me go?"

"I am afraid not."

"Had to ask…" she muttered. "So… he knows I'm here," she warned. "When I woke up - I saw him in my cell. He was in my head - but - I'm sure he knows where I am now," because I told him, she finished silently.

Maverick narrowed his eyes. "How does he have such access to you? You are untainted."

Untainted? Ew. "He hasn't bitten me, if that's what you mean. But that doesn't mean we haven't… Look, I've been in his head… that apparently gives him some kind of… of link to me."

Maverick let out a deep sigh, and stood up from the table. "I greatly appreciate your candor with me." Maverick walked around the table, and paused to put a hand on her shoulder. She let him - he had gloves on after all - and looked up at his face. He wore no expression, but she felt the sympathy there. "You will need strength for what is to come."

His kindness was shocking to her - he was the first vampire she had met that wasn't cold, or violent, or… trying to eat her. Isabel nodded weakly, feeling her stomach sink.

Maverick walked from the room, the door shutting behind her. For a moment, she was left in silence to contemplate 'what is to come.' It didn't last. The door clicked open, and she turned her head to see Fauxpriest and the other vampire from earlier, waiting. Isabel stood up, and followed.

Back to the cell. Although… somehow it felt safer than her other options.

Fauxpriest seemed to be stuck on 'guard the freak' duty. Although, seeing as he had taken a bullet to the chest, she might not be the only one in the room.

She was sitting on the cot in her cell, bored, her knees pulled up to her chest. He was sitting on the other side of the cell in a chair - also bored. Although he at least had his cellphone. By the look of it - and since he was holding it sideways - he was playing a videogame of some kind.

They had taken her phone (and everything else) when they had grabbed her, apparently. She hoped they were somewhere nearby, and that she might get her stuff back but… she doubted it.

"Hey, Fauxpriest," she started.

He snorted, and looked up at her. His shaggy blond hair was carefully made to be that shaggy, it seemed. He had a strange way about him - she almost thought for a moment he was older than he looked. Much older. She suddenly caught a flash, a feeling - the smell of popcorn and the taste of hot dogs. There was a distinct 'I went and saw the Indians win the world series' feel about him. Although that was impossible…

A lot of things she thought were impossible, weren't.

"Tim," he offered.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. I'm uh, sorry for shooting you. Y'know. … In the chest, and all."

Tim leaned up against the other side of the bars and smiled at her. "Yeah. I forgive you, I guess. Not the first time I've been shot."

"Okay, that leads me to my next problem. You're human. I know you are. And yet there's… something… really weird feeling about you."

"Oh? Like what?" he looked back at his phone.

"You're playing a baseball app on your phone. And you're remembering the time you went to the world series… In 1948."

Tim looked up, and he looked at her with one side of his lip curled up in a look of disgust. "God that's creepy. Don't do that."

"Yup. I'm a weirdo. And you didn't deny it. Which if that's true, makes you a human. Who looks like he's twenty five. But is at least seventy five."

"Sweetcheeks, you're in it so over your head, it isn't even funny anymore." He pushed the button on the side of his phone and she heard the screen go dark with the telltale 'ta-click.' He stood up, walked to the bars, and leaned his forearm on the them over his head. "There's a whole, big, dark world of scary shit out there you just don't know about."

"So… clue me in?" Isabel shrugged. "I don't know what else to say. Am I supposed to apologize?" Tim was a cocky, smug bastard - she could tell that off the bat. He liked the fact that he could lord information over people. It was a sure sign that he had spent the younger part of his life struggling - his youth was hard. "It's because your daddy never hugged you, did he?"

That made Tim laugh once, hard - a loud 'bah!' "Alright. I deserved that. But y'know, nobody hugged their boys back then. And he went off to the war, besides."

"The war."

"Yeah, you heard me. The war." Tim grinned at her. "I was born in thirty five."

"Huh." Isabel blinked, thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. "That sounds complicated."

She didn't know what Tim was expecting from her - astonishment, denial, disbelief. But whatever it was, it wasn't what he got. Basic acceptance of the fact.

"You're just gunna take that?" he asked. "Face value?"

"I've seen some weird shit the past few weeks, bud," she said with a weak smile. "So… how exactly are you eighty years old?"

"Eighty two. And that's fair. Look. Vampires are… complicated. There's a lot of myth and stupidity around them, especially nowadays with like… youtube and anime and whatever. I'm Maverick's 'companion.'"

Isabel stared at him blankly, and he stared back at her, waiting for her to ask another question or to somehow magically understand what that was supposed to mean. Isabel decided to default to 'be a jerk about it.' "So what I've got right now is… you're somehow immortal, and a vampire's fuck-buddy? Good for you?"

Tim bust out laughing again, and leaned his shoulder on the bars, taking a casual pose as he grinned at her. "Alright - that settles it. You're okay, toots. I like a chick with some fire in her. You're gunna need that. No, it's not anything like that." Tim shifted, putting a hand in his jeans pocket. Somehow his mannerisms still screamed 1950's, even if he had updated his style. His nicknames from that era certainly stuck. "It's an old ritual. Some… weird thing to do with their blood, I guess. Mav's tried to explain it, but he's still researching it." He rubbed his chin with his hand as he talked, thoughtfully. "So, vampires get made, when one of 'em sucks you dry, and just before you die, they feed you back, right?"

"Sure," she said. She didn't know that, but, now she did.

"Companions are made, when, instead - they just like… do it halfway. A whole bunch of times. You end up as kind of a… I dunno, one third vampire. No powers, no crazy bats-and-blood-drinking shit, but… you end up immortal. And you end up like, stuck with them. Like they're your best bud."

Isabel watched him, and narrowed her eyes slightly. "Like Renfield? In the book?"

"Yeah, except he was half-baked bullshit. A rush job. And some people go nuts. … I don't eat insects."

"It's fine, you don't need to be ashamed about it-" she teased him. She shot him a grin, and he flashed her one in return. The banter reminded her of Tex. An asshole, but one that wants to play tag with it. She got along well with those kind of people.

"So you see, when you shot me - I can't die. Not unless he dies too. Vice versa. When a vamp's got a full blown companion, you gotta knock 'em both off. Same time. We're a full, daylight-safe insurance policy. And errand boy," he grumbled about the last bit, but shrugged it off.

There was a long pause as she debated the reality standing in front of her. "I get why it's a secret… You're immortal. And human. If people figured that out… I saw first hand what happens when morons want to live forever.

"Mmhm," Tim agreed, and then after a long pause, looked at her intently. "So, you got Daddy Dracula all hot and bothered for you, huh?" his voice was excited - like it was some sort of scandalous secret that everybody wanted to know, and he might just get to find out.

"That's… a really sick way of putting 'he wants to eat my organs,'" she said with a blanch. "And I've seen that happen already."

"I heard… I saw him, I mean, recently - he doesn't look so good, still. He was really, really dead when he did that. … Most vampires don't eat people whole. Not any I've seen anyway."

"Great, thanks. Such a consolation," she rolled her eyes.

Tim shrugged. "So what'd you do?"

Isabel sighed hard. "The question of the hour." She laid on the cot and looked up at the ceiling. "Here's how it went down. He was eating my friend, and I tried to run. He touched me, and I got sucked inside his head in a memory. That happens when I touch people. Usually, it's like watching a DVD reel of someone's life. But apparently in his memories, he can walk, talk, chase me and scare the fuck out of me."

She heard Tim snicker, and she tried not to take it personally.

"So he told me to run. Said he wanted to kill me slowly." She tilted her head to look at him where he stood by the bars, watching her with an entertained expression. "So I think I'm his momentary diversion. His entertainment of the hour."

"So why didn't you run when you had the chance?"

"He has my friends… I don't even know if they're alive. … But I have to try and save them either way. We're in this mess together. I just… wish I knew if they were okay or not."

Tim's face fell, and he looked at her, sympathy crossing his features. "That's tough, hun. Real tough. I'm sorry about that. … If I know Mav, he's off talking to Daddy right now, so… you might know, real… real soon what happened to them."

"Shit," she sighed, and placed her hands over her face.

"You might not be happy you asked," he said with a sigh. "Look, it's late. Get some sleep - I'll be outside the hallway, scream if you need me."

"Thanks," she muttered. He walked from the hallway, flicking the lights off as he did.

Isabel wasn't sure she wanted to sleep. Her dreams weren't safe anymore - and she pulled the blanket up over her. Between the stress, the nerves… the dread for what was about to happen, she was positive she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Her brain had other plans.

She must have nodded off. In her dream, she was in a mayan ruin. She knew this place - she had been here before. Tex was setting up the repelling equipment - they were to go down a few stories, recover some golden idol, and come back to the surface.

Adam and Eric were to stay at the surface, make sure everything with their gear went well. "Why am I always the sidekick?" she complained at Tex, as she clipped the wire rope to her safety harness.

"Because, darlin', I don't look good in tights," Tex quipped at her, grinning his trademark lopsided smile.

"I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"Batman and Robin," Eric chimed from one wall, smiling as he typed away at his computer. "Although to be fair, they both wore tights."

"I ain't wearing no tights," Tex insisted to the room like it was a real threat.

"Nobody is asking you to," Adam reminded, sounding like a father scolding his children on a long car ride. "And nobody wants to see it anyway."

"Aw, well, now you gotta put it like that," Tex snickered. "Oh well. Time to go down the hole, eh Izzy?"

"Fine," she sighed, and walked up to the edge of the long stone shaft that went deeper into the ruin. She hated repelling - especially down dark-ass places, spotlights and flares be damned. Tex did the same, and together, they leaned out over the darkness.

It was two jumps down the tunnel before there was a weird rustling from underneath. A chitter, and a strange fluttering.

"Aw, fuck…" Tex said from next to her.

"What? What is it?"

"Just, eh… hug the wall and shut your eyes, okay hunnybunch?"

He only called her that when things were going to go very badly. So she did as she was told. She screamed as suddenly the chittering and fluttering grew louder - then deafening - and then the feeling of things flapping and slapping against her - the beat of wings, the feeling of tiny claws.

She remembered this. Bats. There had been thousands of bats in that shaft, and they had scared them. Isabel had been shaken up, but escaped with nothing more than ruffled hair and a few cuts and scrapes.

But this time it went differently.

It was a dream, after all.

She felt her wire rope lurch, and she screamed again, and desperately tried to cling to the walls. Another lurch - and then a snap. She heard her friends scream match her own as she fell, plummeting into the darkness.

The fall seemed to go on forever - a horrible, gut-wrenching and terrifying forever. Just as she thought it would never end, the impact happened.

Only in a dream could you take a fall like that and survive. But her mind seemed hell-bent on making her suffer, as in the dream she felt the pain of broken limbs. She had hit the rock floor, and was unable to move.

Something else was wrong. She looked down - and in the dim light of the flares they had dropped before they descended - she saw she had landed on some.. Kind of pole. Or spike.

She was impaled through her abdomen. Her hands flew to the injury - like somehow it would help.

Isabel cried out in pain in the dream. She heard another noise then - a rustling. From the darkness, she saw a figure approach. A corpse, moving faster than seemed possible - its head locked onto her like a tiger in the hunt, steady as it rushed towards her. It was a corpse with parchment skin and a gaping hole in its face - empty eye sockets locked on her.

Isabel couldn't find the breath to scream as the monster was on her in an instant, the nightmarish features lowering down on her as it dug its claws into the flesh of her shoulders, digging through to bone.

The only noise she could hear was a deep, terrible laughter.