*blows dust off fic* I know. I know. I've been far too busy. There's also a billion fics I haven't read the latest chapters of yet, and I will try to do a lot of reading before very long. I don't have time or the requisite intelligence, so I'm going to have to cut down on the amount of fics I'm writing. I don't even know how many SH fics I'm halfway through but the only ones I'm keeping on this site are Malkovich and this one. It's been so long since I updated anything that people have probably forgotten what they are anyway.

Small reminder: This is the fic where people die. A lot.

This chapter makes no sense, but, surprisingly, I do know where I'm going with it.

London, England

A silent room, dark, polished furniture picked out with warm squares of sunlight from the window, through which can be seen a spacious garden. At a long table, a tall, silver-haired man dressed in a black suit is seated, piles of old, yellowing books and newer white paper littering the table.

He sighs and leans back in his chair, putting down a book.

Why does this never get any easier? You'd think by now it'd just be the same old thing...' he murmours, soft English accent, more to himself than to the other occupant of the room. A tall woman with thick, dull brown hair pinned up and a necklace with a design that looked like a cobweb is standing by the door. She, rather idly, is looking through a book as well.

Well, I wouldn't know anything about that, Master Bacon,' she said, low, level voice with little trace of an accent.

No, Olga, of course. But it always seems to be a completely different process. More bothersome every time.'

Barely noticeable raise of her eyebrows. Yes, but we must remember to keep our purpose in mind, Master. Any amount of time would be worth it.'

Yes, I know,' he replies irritably. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here trying, would I? And neither would you, so don't-'

Master Bacon?' she asks, firmly and calmly cutting his tirade short. Have all the Souls begun the plans arranged yet?'

Yes, they have, Olga... Only three this time. It gets harder as the harmonixing families die out. I remember, when I first began this kind of thing... there was still one for each element.'

I didn't think the elements mattered that much...'

They don't, not really. The whole element thing is more of a ... formality. By now, the souls are just going where there's room for them. As long as the first soul a Harmonixer has is of the same element as them... otherwise, the soul sort of... clashes with their mind. Somebody usually goes mad. All Harmonixers still have to be vague descendants of the original six, but not so as you'd notice.'

No, master?'

'No, they're in Japan, France and Scotland, I believe. There haven't even been Harmonixers in Palestine for generations.'

I see... So if all the Souls have begun the plan, what is it that we have to do now?'

Wait. And help them along the way, I suppose. Bacon remembers something, and rolls his eyes. Better keep an eye on Heaven's Fiend. That one is still behaving like an immature teenager after almost two thousand years... And the Harmonixer is a bloody priest.'

Olga stifles a laugh. At least this isn't going to be boring.'

It isn't funny. The sooner you learn that the better. I've had enough of these things failing because of someone's stupidity.'

Never your own, I suppose, Olga thinks, but only says Who are the other two Souls this time?'

Raging Tiger... she's got the Hyuga, and she's rather annoyed about it. Usually the Hyugas are dark-classed, but this one is Earth. Hyugas are difficult, insanity runs in that family quite seperately from Harmonixing. God knows, sometimes I wonder if they even realise they have fusion souls. And then there's Death Emperor who has taken his ham-fisted overdramatic tactics to Edinburgh where he can have fun ruining the life of someone who isn't a Hyuga for a change.'

Really?' Olga walks over to the table, sitting down opposite Bacon. They see this as fun?'

Well no, not really. That was the wrong choice of words. But, to tell the truth, Death Emperor is having doubts about this whole thing. Perhaps being so long with the Hyugas has turned him a little mad himself. But the last time I spoke to him, Olga, he worried me. He was describing the Promise as a curse. Of course, when the six Souls all made their original pledge, Death Emperor was one of the most outspoken. He fervently opposed the whole Creation right from the start, even before it all went so wrong. And he believed every one of these predictions.'

Well, they're all true, aren't they?'

All coming true, in perfect order, even. There is a terrible one approaching fast. Before a hundred years are past, the very end will have begun- not just for this worthless rock, but for everything. It will take a long time for eternity to crash in on itself, but it will happen. It'll happen unless we stop it. It really depends on Death Emperor not doing anything stupid. He can't get out of it now, but he certainly can ruin this attempt... and future attempts. We really have to count on this time being the one. The world will begin soon... they said it will begin a long stretch of brutality... more bloodshed for less reason than even humanity has managed before.'

I see no reason why we should fail this time,' says Olga, more confidently than Bacon felt she ought to. This was her first attempt, after all, and she had little idea what was involved. We have found our key, haven't we... the French girl,' Olga continues.

Yes... she's still in her teens, she hears voices and tells herself she has a psychic gift. She's got just the kind of weak mind that should be easy to work with.'

And class is no object when it comes to Keys?'

Not at all. We can use someone of any class, change the ritual to suit the properties of the soul. Olga, I think you place rather too much value on class. We can always work round it. People work around their own class all the time. It doesn't affect their life, personality, destiny... Unless they let it, of course.'

Or unless they're a dark-classed Harmonixer and get stuck with that nut of a Death Emperor...' Olga remarks quietly.

Not that it matters. Harmonixers are unimportant, as unimportant, alone, as anyone else in this world. Harmonixers are just another part of humanity, only dangerous as an entire race- alone, they can do nothing. It is the Souls, Olga, and you know this already or you wouldn't be here- it is the Souls who are important.'

Yes, Bacon, but-'

The man shoots her a warning glance. They have not yet reached the stage where he does not have to be addressed as . Olga takes the point on board, without giving the appearance of feeling chastised.

What I was saying, Master Bacon... If, as you say, the Harmonixers are just ineffectual fragments of humanity... then so are we, surely? What is it that makes you think you could make a difference?'

You're being incredibly sceptical for someone who's supposed to be on the same side as me. But, I suppose, the very fact you are asking that question shows you have thought about exactly what it is we're doing. The thing which makes us- and I hope I can mean us rather than just me- different is that we have seen this world for everything it really is. We've realised how it's rotten to the core. We've realised the futility of the human race, what they've become. Then, I realised, or rather discovered through research, this is not how they've become. It's how they always were. Then, when we were recruited, it's as if we were seperated from the rest of humanity. Not that we're any better, but... at least we're trying.' Tired, Bacon closes his eyes, sighing, leaning back again.

And we will succeed,' says Olga, comforting, but sounding vaguely distracted. Bacon completely ignores her.

Annoyed, Olga gets up and turns for the door, sweep of a long grey dress. She waits before leaving, watching Bacon from a distance. No movement.

Goodbye, Master Bacon?' she tries. No response.

Without another word, Olga slips silently trough the door and shuts it behind her. Down the empty hall, then out into quiet London Sunday streets. the cold blue sky agrees, screaming a gale at humanity.

Thank you for reviewing last chapter, Hunter's Eyebrows. Hahaha. Finally the eyebrows have fallen into my trap!

Oh, damnit, it's only Leels.
Okay then, answers to the huge question list.

1. Not in this version! There's quite a big difference between this and Kirkyard Epilogue.
2. Yeah, the point that this is a different story.
3. Hmm. I was going to use the excuse that the Edinburgh in this fic is more like the early 1700s and it'd be quite possible to get away with absolutely anything. But... then I had an idea...
4. Would I do that to you?
5. Yes, much less relevant. But you never know.
6.Yes. But dear gods, no.
7. Hallow Fair? How the hell would I work that in then? I don't think he's exactly the socialising type at the moment. But as for tolbooths, this is my idea. Maybe... the Grassmarket... this is my idea takiing shape.
8. Of course. Have you met him?
9. Fine then. But I do need a personality for Michael.
10. She'll be in something, but not this and not K.E. Yeah. In a Javey. Whatever.