Damien stared at Paul, the words dry and empty in his mouth. "You wish to help me?" he asked.

"That is correct," Paul confirmed. "My memory banks contain a vast encyclopedia of knowledge on demonology and similar topics. Most of the texts that were available to me at my construction are implanted into my memory."

Damien was confused. "Your...your construction?"

Paul cocked its head to the side. "I am sorry. I assumed that you were aware that I am an artificial life form. A robot, in other words."

"Yeah, I had a feeling," Damien said, sarcastically. "You seem to have more...human qualities, though. Is your programming that advanced?"

Paul's eyes flickered for a moment. Damien wasn't sure exactly what this meant, but he hoped it wasn't anything bad. Paul quickly assured him it wasn't. "I understand how amazing this sounds, and it is very complicated, but my frame houses a human soul."

Damien was shocked to hear this. "What? How?"

"The story is unimportant at this time, I am afraid. I am only concerned with stopping the murderer terrorizing this town. I believe that our combined abilities will accomplish this task the fastest, and speed is something of great importance. May I assist you?"

Damien thought for a long moment. If what Paul said was true, its strength and knowledge would be a great asset to him and Network. But if it was lying then the potential disaster couldn't be measured. Oh hell, he thought. With this monster out there I'll definitely need its...HIS help. And what better way to keep an eye on him?

Damien pulled out his cell phone and said to Paul, "I have to make a call."
"You're kidding?" Network said into his cell phone. Damien had just explained everything to him and Network found it as unreal as Damien had. It isn't that Paul's story was so unbelievable as much as nothing like that had ever happened before. Well, there are those two vampires who have souls.

"Nope," Damien's voice could be heard as plain as day over the cell phone. "He's offered to help us out in this but there's that trust factor. I'm not saying he isn't to be trusted but we don't know anything about him or if what he says is true."

Network replied, "Yeah, I can understand that, Damien, but what choice do we have? If he can help then we need him to help. If he turns out to be evil then we'll have to deal with that later. For now, though, we need to stop this killer."

"So I'm bringing him home?" Damien's voice sounded unsure as he asked the question.

Network was silent for a moment. "I don't see where we have any other choice."
A thick tension filled the White Room as Network and Damien stared at the hulking, mechanical mass that was named Paul. Paul didn't move or even give any indication that he was alive for the longest time until Network finally spoke.

"Who designed you?" he asked. The awe was apparent in Network from the moment he first laid eyes on Paul, and never really left. "I mean, you have this retro-robotic thing going but you're way more advanced that any computer or artificial life form I have ever seen."

Paul's eyes flickered before he said, "I designed me."

Network asked, "you designed yourself?"

"Yes."

"Forgive me for not following this. You are saying that you designed a body for yourself and then transferred your programming into this shell?"

"No. As I told your associate, my frame houses a human soul. The soul of Dr. Paul Carson."

"How is this possible?" Damien blurted out.

Paul cocked his head in a way that was now familiar to Damien. "Twenty years, six months, and fourteen days ago a being known as The Adversary attacked my colleagues and I. They died. My soul was trapped in this robotic frame."

"What is 'The Adversary'?" Network asked.

Paul was silent and if Damien didn't know better he would swear that this robot with a soul was actually afraid to talk about it. The silence was quickly broken, however, and Paul's cold, hollow, mechanical voice burst out through his (for Damien had started taking to this Paul as a person and not a monster or machine) speaker slits.

"The Adversary is the oldest form of evil there is."

"Wait," Network said. "I've done the research and I believe that title goes to The First."

"You would not be incorrect," Paul stated. "The First was created when the first act of evil was committed. Whether that was when Lucifer turned against God or Cain killed Able is open to debate, but before The First could come into being there had to be an essence for The First to form out of. That essence is The Adversary. Originally, that essence was not evil nor was it good. It was neutral and androgynous. The origins of the essence is indeterminate as is its function before it was reformed into The First. The Adversary was a piece that broke off from the essence and, tainted by The First's ultimate evil, formed into its own entity. Over the infinity of time, the taint of evil from The First's touch slowly infected The Adversary."

"Okay," Damien broke in. "So what you're saying is that this 'Adversary' is the substance that The First formed out of and was corrupted by the evil of The First? So this 'Adversary' is The First's father?"

"That assumption would not be far from the truth," was Paul's answer.

"So what would The First Good be?" Network asked.

"That would be the being many refer to as God."
Montoya stared at the book she held. She hadn't been paying attention to it in quite some time and the words blended together. She was lost in thought more than anything, and the book was nothing more than mere decoration at this point. If she was asked, Montoya wouldn't even be able to tell anyone what the title was.

Thoughts of her "other" trying to get out filled her head. It was a very possible scenario. Damien brought her to New Roanoke to try and help her, but neither he nor Network knew how, exactly, to accomplish that. Not long ago she couldn't remember the things she did when under her influence, let alone that she even had another personality. But the last time in Cleveland, and once since then, Montoya had remembered everything as though she was doing it herself. And, in a way, she was.

"I need to get out of here," Montoya spoke aloud. She was amazed that her "other" seemed quiet, but this disturbed her also. Was she planning something? Montoya had to admit that her "other" was getting more and more crafty. How long before she finally tricked Montoya to free her for a few moments and allow her to gain control ultimately?

"I need to get out of here," she repeated, throwing the book aside and standing up suddenly. She took a quick glance in a mirror and, after judging that what she was wearing was okay, grabbed her jacket and left the apartment.
"You seem to be filled with a lot of useful information," Network said astounded.

"That would be correct," Paul answered. "When I was building this artificial life form I intended it to be a tool for fighting the forces of darkness. I installed every known text of demonology, arcane lore, and several Watcher's Diaries that I could get my hands on. The encyclopedia of knowledge I have contained within me, however, is not complete, just vast. I also installed several combat strategies and maneuvers, as well as some basic weaponry."

Damien said, "You still seem to be rather...artificial for someone with a human soul inside."

Paul cocked his head towards Damien. "Twenty years, six months, and fourteen days trapped inside a living mainframe has made my personality somewhat artificial."

"You aren't kidding," Damien muttered.

"We should tell Montoya that we have a friend staying over for a few days," Network told Damien. "I'll go."

"So, do you have any leads on this monster we're facing?" Damien asked Paul after Network had left.

Paul answered, "I have a few theories I have derived from the evidence I gathered at the crime scenes, but I am afraid none of them are substantial.

"Well, why don't you..."

Network burst into the room. "She's gone!" he yelled.

"So what?" Damien said. "She probably went out for a walk or to the movies or something."

"Damien! There's some killer monster out there killing women!"

"And you think Montoya is going to get attacked?"

"Haven't you noticed that our lives are like something out of a Dicken's novel? Coincidence is like a bad penny on a Hellmouth. If it can happen, it will!"

Paul said, "He is right. She will most likely be the next victim."

"God, I hate my life sometimes," Damien muttered. "All right. Then we go after her."
Montoya took a sip of her iced coffee. The smooth texture was easily complimented by the bitter taste. This is what she needed. The cool night air to clear her mind, the iced coffee to keep her senses. Ah, life could be a dream at times.

There was a sudden movement in a nearby alley that caught Montoya's attention, but knowing the things she new now she pretended she hadn't noticed. Now would probably be a good time to head home anyway. She felt better, plus it was late and crawling into her large bed with the cool and crisp sheets just sounded so nice.

Montoya turned down the deserted street that led to the back entrance of Croaton Computers. No sooner had she started the long walk down the alley when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. As before, she ignored it but quickened her pace. The entrance to the building that led to the sewer entrance of Croaton Computers was only a few meters away. If she had to she would run. Knowing this, Montoya pulled her electronic key card from her pocket.

There was a low growling sound from behind her. Don't even look, she thought. You know what's back there and it will only get you killed.

Not if you set me free.

True. Her "other" could probably face the creature and live, but that was barely even a last resort.

Keep moving, Montoya. We're almost there.

Only a few feet from the door now. Montoya held her keycard in her hand. Oddly, or maybe it was just familiarity, Montoya's hand wasn't shaking. Had she gotten used to the scary things that go bump in the night? Probably, but she figured it wouldn't take much. After the initial shock of it all, you tend to accept that it has been right in front of you the whole time.

There was another growl, this one closer. Montoya had reached the door and raised the card to the electronic reader. The card was in the slide and ready to be ran through when a force hit Montoya square in the back. She hit the door hard, knocking the wind out of her and sending the card to her safety flittering in the wind.

LET ME OUT!

Montoya was dazed. Stars not so much danced around her head as kind of floated just on the inside of her corneas. She felt a sharp sting on her back, and possibly a warm stickiness. She couldn't make much sense of what was going on, but she instinctively rolled onto her back to face her attacker.

LET ME OUT NOW, YOU BITCH! LET ME OUT OR WE DIE HERE!

"No," Montoya muttered. She looked up and saw something in front of her. Her eyes still blurred and she couldn't make out much more than it was tall, possibly seven or eight feet, and that it was large, muscle on muscle large. Montoya was pretty sure she saw claws, and maybe fangs, and she was positive that the vile odor emanated from its mouth.

The creature advanced on Montoya, growling like something not of this world. As it came closer, Montoya's vision started to clear. It was because of this that when the creature opened its massive jaws that Montoya got a first class look at rows upon rows of very sharp teeth.

to be continued...