In times like this, it was better to just turn off all of the lights and fall asleep. Whatever he dreamed of had to be better than what was going on. Though, it would be harder to lull his nerves since the Auditor wouldn't let him have a drink. Even having the eternal red sky's light leak into his bedroom would have been a treat, but the simple feature of a window was considered an asinine desire.
Instead, the Sheriff's only comfort was a bland, dull room with gray, rigid furniture.
The Sheriff's last thoughts before falling into a dreamless nap were statements defending his right as a grown man and a political figure to drink in his down time.
All of that frustration had temporarily dissolved, along with his memory of his awful reality, when he woke up just a few hours later.
It would have been a gentle awakening, too, if the figure looming over him in the dark wasn't present.
The Sheriff gasped, swatting his hands and bumping his head against the bedframe in his attempt to distance himself from the intruder.
"Ow, shit!"
His lamp flickered on, and after a moment of blurry vision, he was able to make out the woman leaning over his night stand, now bathed in the dingy yellow light.
Oh, that's right. She was supposed to be here for the next project.
"Didn't mean to wake you," said Theresa, unfettered by the scuffle, "Audi sent me to check on you."
The nickname rang a faint bell of familiarity to the Sheriff, who had calmed down enough to straighten his clothes into a more presentable manner.
"I…T96?" he asked.
Theresa grinned. "69," she corrected, "But I hardly bother with code names anymore. "Theresa" is much better, don't you think?"
It took a moment to realize that the Sheriff had been asked a question, to which he stammered, "U-Uh, yeah, whatever you'd like to go by. It sounds…nice."
Theresa breathed a silent laugh, which almost made the Sheriff feel like a child being placated for his naive answer.
"And what about you?" asked Theresa, "I never learned what's behind "The Sheriff"."
The Sheriff averted his gaze with a forced bashful smile. "Ah, you don't want to hear that. It's a lousy name."
"Lousier than "Wimbleton"?" scoffed Theresa.
Her sudden cackle afterwards broke the tension, bringing out a genuine laugh from the Sheriff.
Still, there was a slither of hesitation when Theresa looked at him expectantly.
"It's Micah," he answered, hoping he sounded confident.
To his surprise, Theresa looked delighted. "Micah?" she repeated, "That's not a name to be ashamed of, at all. It's strong, sharp…" she reached out and pushed a loose lock of the Sheriff's disheveled hair from his face, "Perfect for someone of your ranking."
Her cold fingers felt soothing against the Sheriff's hot face, but he couldn't help shivering from their touch. It could have been a trick of the dim light, but Theresa's fingers looked oddly long, almost like spider legs.
"I heard about what happened," she said, her tone suddenly serious, "With Jebediah."
The sound of his name snatched the Sheriff out of his reverie. He could suddenly feel the hot pressure of grief pushing against his chest, making it hard to breathe again.
God, he had wished that was just an awful nightmare.
"This place is awful, I know, and finding any source of comfort is near impossible when everyone's focused on staying alive," Theresa continued.
Her hand trailed down the Sheriff's arm, stopping at his hand in a gentle embrace. Despite the openly kind actions, that feeling of trepidation lingered within him.
This was nothing new. The Sheriff had only had a brief greeting or two with Theresa last year, but he would never forget just how unsettling her presence was. At first, he chalked it up to his shock of seeing a woman for the first time, but there was always something just a little bit off. Theresa's fingers sometimes seemed a little too long. Her tone sounded like it would dip into something more unhinged at times. Even in her mouth, she sometimes seemed to have too many teeth. He had faced death in numerous forms and threats of all kinds, but nothing topped the uncanniness of Theresa.
"...tense as always. I know a drink or two will fix that up."
The Sheriff tuned in just in time to catch the last of Theresa's words before she stood up from the bed.
"A-Actually, I'm not supposed to drink right now," he added, embarrassed by his stutter.
His embarrassment only deepened when Theresa gave him a quizzical look.
""Not supposed to"? Last time I checked, you're the law enforcer around here."
Even though the Sheriff was making the same argument not too long ago, he found himself saying, "Yeah, but the Auditor's just trying to look out for m–"
Theresa grimaced and waved her hand as if she had been presented with a piece of garbage.
"Oh gimme a break. Don't let him micromanage you like he does everybody else. You're his equal, remember?"
"He and my father were, yeah. As for me…" The Sheriff scratched at the back of his head, already feeling exhausted from the idea of the contract. "Well, that's where things get complicated."
"We'll keep this a secret," said Theresa, as if he hadn't spoken, "But don't be surprised when I ask you to return the favor."
She slipped out of the room like a shadow into the night before the Sheriff could even comment.
"You're kidding! An urban legend?" Deimos laughed.
Even Sanford had difficulty fighting an amused smile. "I mean, y'all got the description pretty close, but ogres? How'd you even get that?"
Brynn shrugged, feeling the weight of the revelation lift some.
"I wouldn't know. The stories have been around for generations. It was probably just added to make it scarier."
"Tch, no need to do that," snickered Sanford, "This place is plenty scary enough."
"But it sounds like you've got it made back where you live," said Deimos, "I'm marking that as my vacation spot when we're done putting A.A.H.W. out of–"
The trio hadn't even heard 2BDamned's anxious steps approach the doorway. They were only made aware of his arrival with by interruption.
"Have any of you heard where Hank is?" he asked.
"HQ just sent out their scouting cars a few minutes ago," explained Sanford, "They couldn't get a hold of Hank, so they think he dropped his headset."
2BDamned shook his head and turned to walk away, muttering, "...you idiot…" under his breath.
"She's, I mean, he's still out there, huh?" asked Brynn, keeping her volume low.
Sanford shrugged. "As far as we know, yeah," he answered, "He might just be resting somewhere in an abandoned building since it's not safe to be outside without a car."
That last word dropped a pang of guilt into Brynn's stomach.
"He's probably still duking it out with that sheriff, like he said he would," reassured Deimos, "Maybe he got caught up by that Jesus-impersonator again or whatever."
"For twelve hours straight?"
"Hell, maybe. With the way Madness is."
Typically, Deimos considered himself to be great at alleviating a grim situation, but even he had to admit that his tendency not to think before speaking sometimes had the opposite effect.
When the space between him, Sanford, and Brynn fell into silence, he piped up, "Hey Sanford, why don't you show Brynn that rhythm game in the game room. Friday Night-something, right?"
Sanford thought briefly, trying to remember the game, then gave a satisfied nod.
"A'ight. It has been a pretty long time since I've played one of those," he said, "C'mon Brynn. We can grab some snacks and I'll show you how to play."
"Cool," agreed Brynn, thankful for the distraction.
The halo flickered inside of the machine, giving both men some doubt of its capabilities.
As the machine whirred, the minute specks of dirt could be seen spinning around on the pristine ring like grooves on a record player.
On the other side of the small room was the gruesome display of Olivia's corpse.
She had been propped up by stiff metal poles. A red line ran off-kilter around her neck where the stray blade of Hank's sword sliced through, tracing thick streams of blood down her body. Most of which had dried into a thin crust or soaked her pitch black clothes. The thicker streams remained as stiff pools that glimmered in the lights above. Yet, her face held a peaceful expression, as though she were only asleep.
"For now, let's study her, alone, for the next twenty four hours to see if we were able to extract the regenerative powers from T69's DNA sample," said the agent standing beside the Auditor.
"A DNA sample? From me?"
Already, the Auditor was regretting listening to his scientists' theory.
"Does every response that comes out of that maw of yours have to be so coy?" he muttered.
"Depends. Does the pole up your ass have to be wedged so deep?" A flicker of a scowl flashed across Theresa's features. "You should be more careful when asking someone a favor."
Regardless of her statements, Theresa plucked the test tube from the Auditor's hand.
Her serpentine tongue slid from between her lips, dipping into the glass and thoroughly coating the inside in saliva.
The red aura of the Auditor's body became jagged as he shuddered.
"Does she have to be so damn disgusting?" he thought, clenching his jaw to prevent the statement from leaking out.
When Theresa was finished, she chuckled, capping the test tube and swiping off a drop of saliva from her bottom lip.
"You're welcome," she said.
The Auditor suppressed another shudder as the memory resurfaced. Instead, he focused his attention on the resurrection happening in the room across from him, fully displayed by the window.
White static flickered, traveling to the metal rods holding up Olivia. Buzzing and rattling could be heard as her body convulsed violently against its restraints. Her fingers spread outwards, being the most mobility that she was allowed. Individual strands of her hair rose gently around her. The brightest flash zapped around her neck, fusing her head back with her body. Gradually, jade green pigment began to spread across her flesh.
Usually, when Jeb created zombies, the process was instant, but the Auditor and agent were learning that minutes of this disturbing scene would be the new normal when using this machine.
When the whirring quieted down, and Olivia's body only gave way to the occasional twitch, the men were sure that they had witnessed a failure.
"That was wishful thinking," thought the Auditor, "We really lost a great asset with Jeb…"
Suddenly, he noticed a different type of movement from Olivia.
Her eyebrows moved, as though she were staring right at him. Her slack jaw fixed itself as she seemed to swallow.
Just as the Auditor was about to ask the agent if he had seen the same thing, a deadly whisper echoed around them, speaking a name that the Auditor hoped to never hear aloud.
Blood spurted out of the agent's ears as he collapsed to the floor.
Shock and fear gripped the Auditor as he watched his subordinate crumple in a heap. He looked at Olivia through the window, the all-knowing expression on her face reading guilty.
The Auditor stormed into the room, locking the door behind him with agitated movements.
"You…!" he firmly gripped Olivia's shirt, causing her tiara pin to pop off and drop between them, "How did you know my name?"
Olivia's head lolled to the side, as if struggling to stay awake.
"I…I can hear them…the voices of the dead," she breathed, "Is this…hell? Did I…finally end up here?"
The Auditor let go of Olivia.
"Something went wrong," he thought.
Olivia's lips parted, as though she were listening intently to something. Again, that expression of omniscience returned.
"I see," she said, her voice more definite, "This isn't hell, but you are…"
Olivia said the Auditor's name again, making him grimace and look back at the locked door.
"Ah, your name is in a forbidden language, isn't it?," she asked, "What should I call you, then?"
"The Auditor," he answered quickly. Anything to keep the dangerous name from anyone else's ears.
"Auditor," repeated Olivia, "Tell me…did you bring me back to life?"
The man nodded stiffly, unsure if it was wise to be completely honest with Olivia.
She gave a bitter chuckle. "And even though I'm probably being damned for my sins, this is the first time in years that I've ever felt alive."
Tears trickled down her face, catching spots of blood on the way.
"I guess that means I really do belong here."
The Auditor stayed quiet, observing the situation. Olivia's behavior was far from anything he had expected, and he was sure that the wrong words could make her turn on him, and create another catastrophe.
"So you know what I am," he started, "You learned that from…spirits, yes?"
Olivia nodded.
"What else do they tell you?" he asked.
"Many of them are confused and lost. The ones who aren't say they died for you."
Olivia looked up, searching for confirmation.
"Would you do the same?" asked the Auditor, staring firmly at the woman.
"Of course."