I wake up in a different room. There is no guard, but there is a pile of rags, which I am guessing he wants me to wear. However I have the advantage. Though they may have taken me when I was asleep, I was not dressed in nightclothes. And they did not search me, I find. I take off my shirt, discarding it after combing the inner, unseen pockets. Yes… I am by no means unarmed.
I open the door quietly. I see one man outside the door. I quickly dispatch him with my Punjab lasso, letting Erik control my movements.
I hurry onwards, and end up stumbling out onto a stage of some sort, but there is no audience… yet. I jump down off the stage and run up the aisle. I listen at the door—there are people out there! How do I get out of here? And from my old, dark soul, Erik suggests to me to let him take over. I let him. Seemingly from outside the auditorium, comes a cry of "Fire!", and a mad rush of people can be heard leaving.
Silence. Beautiful silence greets my ears, signaling to me that it is safe to leave. I place a mask that is flesh colored and makes me look like any other person but me. I open the door, grab a long coat from a closet, and put it on. Surprisingly, it fit. In fact, it seemed to have been tailored to fit me… was it possible that is was held longer than I thought? I look at myself in the mirror. Do I look like myself, Erik? I ask my soul. And he answers, Nothing like us.
I walk outside. No one gives a second thought to me, other than a single question: "What took you so long?" To this I answer, "I got lost, that's all. It is, after all, such a large house", and they don't think anything of it. And so I made my way to the back of the crowd and out of sight. I call M. Claude Bachel, my real driver, and who helps run the townhouse.