It was the middle of the night when the Cleavers invaded the Bunker. Four went into each room, quietly, shooting sedation darts into the necks of the Dead Men. Skulduggery and Ghastly awoke and tried to resist, to shout a warning, but they were quickly overpowered. They were shackled, blindfolded and gagged by the Cleavers, as they were instructed. Then they were each put into separate cars and driven away by Sanctuary officials, each being driven to a different place.

They were quick and they were thorough. Very little struggling. It was a good mission.

John, Sean and Blaise knew that Macon would be impressed. Blaise had told the Cleavers what to do, even if that mean taking the captives to another country. Which is what they were doing. Ghastly was being dropped in the Tundra. Anton, the boat in the middle of the ocean. Saracen the dessert. Skulduggery in a war zone. Ezra in a rain forest. Valkyrie to have her memories wiped. And Dexter to his father. It was brilliant. They were magically bound, and the Cleavers were told to randomly drop them off so not even their little teleporter could help. They would rot to death if nothing else. Blaise smiled as she walked out into the cool night air, John and Sean on either side of her.

Ghastly Bespoke woke up angry, scared, and bloody freezing. He was in his jammies. A cotton white shirt and blue stiped bottoms. That didn't seem like the proper attire for the snow. Because that was what he is in, on, under. Snow. His hands, no, his whole body burned from the intense temperature that surrounded him. He ran his tongue over the gag in his mouth, his wrists testing the shackles. He bucked his head a few times, trying and failing to get the damn blindfold off. He felt his heart start to beat faster, his hands getting clammy, his breathing becoming uneven. He was panicking. Then again, who wouldn't be panicking? He made a muffled sound and waited. No one answered. He was alone.

Water Saracen Rue thought dimly. He pulled his legs underneath him, manoeuvring in an odd way. He groaned as he wobbled, managing to get into a kneeling position. He breathed heavily through his nose, overcompensating as his mouth wasn't getting any of the dry, harsh, hot air. He stood, shakily. He took a step and slid down again, the dry rustling sounding out. Sand he realised, a heavy lump forming in his chest. I'm in the desert. Then a hand was on his shoulder, squeezing, and the cold, unmistakable edge of a blade was pressed against his throat.

Skulduggery Pleasant awoke to the sound of bomb dropping alarmingly close to him. He was laying on the ground, his legs sprawled out, his hands bound behind him. Another whistling sound, then a deafening explosion. The ground on which he lay violently shook as scream rung out. Rapid gunfire followed the bomb, screaming and yelling in a harsh, thick accent, in a language that wasn't English. He thrashed his head around, trying to free himself from the blindfold to no avail. Another bomb. More gunfire. He was in a war zone. And utterly defenceless.

Valkyrie Cain was shaken awake. She was in a bed, fluorescent lights above her. A head bobbed above her. China Sorrows. Valkyrie was too panicked and groggy to even feel the alarm that should be spreading through her at the fact that she was now in the hands of the enemy… parse.

"What happened?" Valkyrie asked, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth.

"John and Sean are part of the Demon… horde." China spat, "They aren't real officials. You're safe."

She continued. Valkyrie nodded.

"Where is Skulduggery?"

China didn't reply.

Sweat poured off her body as Ezra Bloom groaned softly. She was being carried. Large, soft hands held her arms, easily lifting her slight frame off the ground. "Mmmmurphffff!" She said through the gag. No one replied. What happened? Where was she? Tears dampened the blindfold as she swung her legs and twisted her body. She couldn't think straight, everything thick and heavy and blurry. She heard bird song and hisses and snarls, thick rain drops plopping around her. It was so warm, the air stuck in her nostrils, slugging to reach her lungs.

Anton Shudder felt his stomach in his throat when he woke up. There was a slight rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He was sitting against a sturdy wall, with a sloshing sound violating his sense of sound. He could feel a constant vibration going through him. He thrashed, seeing to what extent he could move and leaned his head back when he realised he couldn't do anything, really. He reckoned he was on a ship, but that didn't help him. Not even a little.

Crack. Dexter Vex's head whipped around as the back of Macon's hand connected with his cheek. Dexter inhaled, composing himself upright in the wooden chair he was bound to. "What?" He asked, still dazed. He looked down, realised he was restrained, realised who was in front of him, and lurched forward. "Where are they? Where is she? What have you done?" He asked, anxiety taking the form of a fist in his chest filling him with dread. Macon simply smiled.

"I have wasted enough time on you. I feel it's time to pass it on to someone more… worthy." Macon said, smiling, his eyes bulging as he waddled away.

Erskine Ravel walked in slowly, a chain in his hand, a smirk on his face.

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