Groggily, Blackwood awoke on his own accord, much to his own surprise. He had slept well, despite the situation. It had been a long time since he woke up without an alarm. That, however, worried him immensely. Once he woke up enough to register that, Blackwood shot up from his place on Daniel's couch and nearly dived for the cellphone on the cleared off coffee table. When he tried to turn on the screen, however, it would not respond. His phone was dead. He had no alarm.

Checking his watch, however, he was horrified to discover that it was almost two in the afternoon. He had'nt slept that late since he was in college. That had been years ago. Now he was always awake to get ready and clock in by nine every morning. He wasn't just late for work. He had almost missed work entirely. Dropping the device on the table, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees before burying his face in his hands. Mister Westley was going to be furious.

Sombrely, he wallowed in what he knew was sure to come, hardly registering that his boss' son was talking on the phone with somebody. It took him a while to notice, but when he did, he realised that the younger man was talking about him. He only intended to listen in for a moment, but found himself increasingly curious as the conversation went on.

Daniel was talking to someone about the assistant's absence at work. From the sounds of things, it wasn't the young man's father, but he wasn't sure if it was a coworker, either. Seeing as though Daniel was friends with the Watchdog at some point, he could have been talking to one of them. That could have been awful within itself, as Paul knew that the Phantomhives were people that his boss hated and said were troublesome, although the assistant had never met them. All he knew was that they were sometimes at those "Round Table" meetings that the politician sometimes went to, but he never shared any information about them beyond that.

Still, they were not the kind if people that Blackwood would like to associate with. He had already had enough upperclass nonsense to last him a lifetime. He did wonder, however, what this meant for him.

When Daniel hung up, he looked a bit upset. It wasn't in a shocked sort of way, or an angry or hurt, way. He almost seemed relieved, and he was. The Westley had to take a moment to collect himself, sniffling and wiping his eyes before he turned around. He faltered when he noticed the Paul was awake, and wiped his eyes one last time.

"Your boss was wondering where you were." he explained. "He called Ciel, so Ciel called. He should be telling my dad after this."

"Is that why you're upset?" questioned Blackwood.

"No..." Daniel said, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I'm not upset…"

In truth, he was just glad that someone called and asked if he was alright after getting home. Kristopherson didn't, and the Westley honestly couldn't blame him after the things he said. He was surprised that the Watchdog called him, even though he definitely knew what happened. There was no way that Kristopherson didn't tell Alois, or that Alois didn't tell Ciel. Daniel knew how that chain of communication went.

He was happy, though. Someone in his former friend-group still seemed to care about him. Perhaps he really could mend this like Blackwood said. Even if he and the bluenette were never really the best of friends, it still felt good to hear from him.

"He said that he would tell your boss that I'm borrowing you for the day." Daniel continued, pleased to see the relief on the other man's face. "Also, the bank called and said they spotted some weird activity on my card, so I told them it was stolen. That's sorted out, even though I need to run by eventually and pick up a new card."

"That's good..." Blackwater replied, standing up and stretching. That was one less thing he had to worry about, and now he practically had the day off, except that he needed to keep an eye on the Westley lad.

"I need to charge my phone, somewhere." he said. "I also need to change clothes. I should probably run by my house and change."

"True. I don't think you'll fit into any of my stuff. I could loan you a charger, though. iPhone?"

"No, android."

"Huh..." the Westley answered, looking at the other as if he were confused by the man's choice in mobile phones. "I guess I can't help you, then."

"I can charge it in the car on my way there and back." Blackwater said. "I'll be fast. Is there anything specific that you'd like me to do?"

"Hire a maid, probably." answered Daniel, looking around the dirty house. He was right. A housekeeper would do the man good, but no one in their right mind would agree to maintain a house this far gone.

"I should probably clean, then..." sighed Paul. His degree in political science hadn't done him much good. Never would he have ever imagined that he would essentially be a housekeeper and an adult version of a babysitter.

"I can help." the younger man offered, but Blackwood had to decline. He didn't want the task to take any longer than he had to, and if Daniel got involved, who knows how long it would take?

With haste, the assistant excused himself, both since he felt filthy being in the clothes he slept in around his employer, and because he felt naked without his cellphone at the same time. That was the first thing he did once he got to his car. He plugged in the device before even shutting the door, and when he did, he started the car and immediately checked his screen to see what was happening. IT was charging, much to his releif, but now he needed to get home and make himself presentable enough to do general housekeeping. Was it even worth it to shower? Probably not, but he also had to undergo other hygiene necessities that were non-negotiable.

Right after getting through the door, the thought crossed his mind to not go back, but he knew that he would be in trouble if the younger man complained to his father, so Paul was left with no choice. He showered, he brushed his teeth, he put on deodorant, and went through all other parts of his routine before getting dressed. It took him much longer than expected, as Blackwood found it difficult to leave the warmth and comfort of his shower, but knew better. Once again, logic and obligation had gotten in his way. Thus is the story of his life.

He didn't want to drive back to Daniel's house, however. No, it was far quicker to take public transport and additionally, he simply did not want to drive if he did not have to. It would also be quicker for him to grab something to eat on his way to the metro station. It would take five minutes, at least. Hopefully, fate would be in his favour just this once.

It was not. There was a line at his favourite coffeeshop despite the time of day. He prayed that they wouldn't be out of bagels, so he didn't have to wait longer for them to prepare more. Five minutes became fifteen at what felt like a snail's pace, and the man was left anxiously waiting in line, looking around at anything and everything in hopes of distracting him from the fear of Daniel calling him to see where he was.

The shop on it's own wasn't interesting. There were just people sitting around, drinking coffee and eating pastries. Some of them worked on laptops or read newspapers while other's simply chatted. There was a kiosk that sold papers right outside, so that's how most people were distracting themselves from the world around them, unless they preferred their smartphones.

How could Blackwood make the world around him seem interesting? It was the same as always. Ordinary humans went about their ordinary lives without thinking much about it. They didn't feel what he felt. They didn't feel the ever-present black cloud of dread that loomed over him indefinitely. He gained it from being in the hospital. Blackwood wasn't sure how, nor was he sure why, but that's not all he gained. He gained an ability that allowed him to see the world in a way that no one else could. It was almost like an alternate reality. Now, Blackwood was not in any way sure if that's what it was, but that's what it felt like. He had no idea what it meant, and he was afraid to find out.

Still, he was curious. So, when the line didn't seem to be moving again for a while, he took his hand and covered his left eye, peering around the restaurant in order to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. Almost ashamedly, there was not, leaving the man disappointed and slightly embarrassed. Perhaps he really was imagining things. Maybe the lack of sleep was starting to get to him at the time, or perhaps it was another sign of his deteriorating mental state. Paul began to think he really needed to see someone about his bizarre symptoms.

Then, there was something that caught his eye. It was a woman who stood outside the restaurant.. She was slightly blurry, like the air around her was so heavy that it was distorting her form. It was especially thick around her right hand. When Blackwood took his hand away, he could see that she was wearing a ring on her index finger where the heatwaves began to focus.

She was plain-looking with dark brown hair and round glasses. She didn't stand out, although her behaviour was odd. The woman was buying stacks of different types of newspapers, seeming to know which ones specifically she wanted and avoiding papers like The Sun. After she had made her purchase, she carefully set her messenger bag on the ground and tried to fit them in alongside other heaps of newspapers. Blackwater wondered if she was just strange, but when he looked at her through just his left eye again, she was still distorted. It was most peculiar.

"Sir." called a voice, not quite able to break him from his trance at first. "Sir… Sir!"

"Sorry?" Paul finally replied, turning around to see that it was finally his turn to order.

"You're holding up the line, sir." the barista said. "Do you know what you would like to order?"

"Uuuuhhh..." Blackwood trailed off, completely forgetting what it was he wanted. He thought for a moment, glancing back over to the woman outside the window to see that she was leaving. Before he even knew what he was doing, he stepped out of line.

"I'm sorry! I have to catch someone!" he said, much to the puzzlement of everyone else in the store. Quickly, he ran out and stepped onto the sidewalk, only to see the woman starting to disappear in the crowd. For some reason, Blackwood did not want that to happen.

Maybe he thought that she might know something. Under what circumstances would that be a realistic idea is in retrospect, unfathomable. However, he still tried to wriggle his way through the crowd, not letting her out of his sight, but still remaining at a safe distance so that he wouldn't be noticed. It was only when he got onto the same train as the woman that he seemed to realise what he was doing.

Good God, how perverse and downright creepy did he seem? He was stalking this woman all because she caught his eye! He needed to get off of this train right away. He needed to go back to what he was doing. Daniel was waiting, and he knew the boy wouldn't last much longer before calling him. The Westley was too needy at the moment to not do so. Things were getting out of control. Blackwood needed to let go, and walk away right then and there.

The only problem was that he wasn't sure if he could. Just when he thought that he could get off at the next stop, someone else came on and lit up as he saw the woman, and the woman did the same in return. It was a masculine-looking woman with very short, dark hair, a flask poking out of her back pocket, and a strange pendant around her neck. She had a few grocery bags in hand, but first one with the glasses offered to take a few in the seat next to her. After taking the offer, the short-haired woman stood in front of the first and appeared to be communicating in sign language. She didn't appear to be deaf, as the woman sitting down replied vocally, and the other appeared to understand, but the entire situation was odd. Now there were two odd individuals, and Blackwood didn't know if he would be able to resist looking again.

He knew better. Paul knew that he shouldn't have looked, but he couldn't help himself. He was in too deep already with no way out in sight. Covering his right eye, Blackwood looked with his left and suddenly, all of blood drained from his face as he saw the pair's alternate forms. The first woman was still blurry, just as she was before. Nothing had changed about her. He could still see that. What terrified him was the form of the second woman, as her appearance had changed drastically to the point where he was genuinely concerned that no one else could see it.

The woman now had considerable amounts of bodyhair covering her arms, the backs of her hands and a few digits on each finger, as well as the back of her neck and chin. Her face was, by Blackwood's standards, grotesque. Her mouth and nose were elongated like a dog's snout, and her eyes were bigger and further apart. When she smiled, her teeth were still human-like, but that didn't make Paul feel any better. He was still afraid.

Quickly, he took his hand away and his vision returned to normal, but he was still sweating and looked ill. He had no idea what he was going to do now. Common sense was telling him to walk away. He should leave on the next stop and go back to work and never think of this moment ever again. Regardless of what logic and reason told him, however, he knew that he couldn't. Paul wanted to know what this was. He needed to know. There was no way that he could merely "forget". It was something that would haunt him for a long time to come. What was that nightmare from the hospital? Why is he seeing people as monsters when he covers his right eye? Why was it only certain ones, and why did no one else notice? Was he really going mad? It seemed so. Nothing he was doing made sense, nor did anything he was seeing or experiencing. His senses had gone haywire, and he wasn't sure what he could do. What Blackwood did know, however, was that once he kept going, he couldn't go back. He was already too far down the rabbit hole to return to his ordinary life as an ordinary person.

So, when those two stepped off the train, he had a decision to make. It probably wasn't the right decision. It probably wasn't even a good one. Regardless, he made it, and got off at their stop. It was far off course from where he was initially going. In the end, it would take him twice as long to get back, and that didn't count the time he spent following the two women like some sort of depraved lunatic.

He followed from a safe distance, hiding amoung the crowd on the street, but as the crowd thinned and the streets changed, he started to panic. Here he was, following these women, and now the were most likely going to notice. Blackwood was afraid to move forward, and he was afraid to move back. Thus, he hung back even further, almost coming to a halt in order to build some more distance between them. The assistant could still see the two women, especially since they could become more conspicuous with just a closing of his eye. It wasn't to last, though. Soon, the street was bare, leaving himself and the two women in what looked like the beginnings of a ghost town. Then, his worst fear came true.

They noticed. The more masculine woman looked over her shoulder and spotted him before nudging her acquaintance's arm with her elbow and motioning behind them with her head. The bespectacled woman's eyes widened and she said something to the other that was inaudible to the man's ears from his distance. To his surprise, they didn't seem too concerned, and only quickened their pace slightly. Once they rounded the corner, he saw why.

There was a big gate conspicuously placed between buildings in a way that made no logical sense. It appeared to be a permanent feature that blocked the entire road when closed, especially given the guardstation that was built off to the side. Again, neither of these things looked like they should ever belong in a city anywhere, London included. Paul continued to walk forward, his neck bending backwards as he stopped looking where he was going altogether in order to gaze upward at it. It was so surreal. It was like something out of a dystopian novel.

When Blackwood's neck couldn't bend any further, he righted himself and looked forward, seeing the two women present some sort of I.D. card and enter some kind of pin. What concerned the assistant, however, was the two armed guards. One stood at the window of the station while another one sat in a smaller structure on the other side of the gate. Now, Paul had seen guns on television before, but he had never seen one in person. Even still, he could tell that these guards were wielding military-grade weaponry. They were armed to kill, if necessary, and their green military uniforms and red berets did nothing to boost Blackwood's confidence in this venture. If anything, it died then and there.

Suddenly, a loud groan was heard and the gate began to open. It only opened slightly, being room for only a few people to squeeze through one at a time by the time the two women got there. If he rushed it, he probably wouldn't be able to make it. The thought barely had the chance to surface in his mind, however, as he noticed a guard walking toward him.

His natural instinct was to freeze, as is most people's when they are approached by a large man carrying an assault rifle, so he agonisingly waited for the gentleman to say something to him. It didn't matter what it was, because it would come across as frightening, regardless. Thankfully, the guard was polite at first, and asked him some routine questions.

"'Scuse me, sir." the guard began, his gruff voice causing the man to jump. "Is there something we can help you with?"

Thank goodness, he seemed to be a patient man, bless his heart, as Paul did not answer for a long time. He had no answer. He had no idea who these people were, so he had no idea what they could possibly do for him.

"U-uh… uuuhhh..." was all the poor assistant could manage to get out at first. After mustering up an ungodly amount of courage, the man asked what he wanted to know.

"What is… this?" he asked, quite innocently, as he had no inclination as to what this place was. "What is all of this… stuff?"

Pausing, the guard looked to his coworkers briefly before answering. "Sir, I don't think you're supposed to be here. I think you should leave."

"But what is this?" asked Paul. "I need to know! What is... this doing in the middle of London?"

"Sir, you need to go, right now." the guard said, holding out an arm to kind of guide the other man in the direction he needed to go. But the assistant was emboldened by his need to understand what was happening. He needed to know what was happening to him, and what was this strange place he had been lead to. He needed to understand what it all meant! Yanking his arm away, he snapped at the guard.

"Tell me what this place is!" he barked. "I need to know! What is this place and what does it mean?!"

Quietly, the two women tried to slink away between the gates, escorted by another guard who acted as a barrier between them and the assistant. Blackwood struggled to argue with the guard who had confronted him, but when he saw those two trying to get away, he made perhaps the worst decision he had made thus far. That horrible, stupid decision was to make a break for the gate.

"Stop!" he called out as he ran, prompting the women to try and escape faster. He reached out as though he would somehow be able to stop them as the gate closed behind them.

"I need to know!" the man roared as he hit the gates, holding one of the bars as he reached the other through. "What are you!? Tell me! I need to know!What are you?! What are you?! What are y-"

Suddenly, he was rendered silent with a blow to the back of the head with the butt of the nearest guard's weapon, forcing him to the ground. Blackwood's whole world was spinning as he tried to get back up, watching two figures getting away just on the other side of the bars. The guards were yelling at both him and each other, but he couldn't figure out what they were saying. With a shaky hand, he reached up and covered his right eye. While his vision began to blur, he stared after the pair through his left eye.

"What are you?"


A/N: Ah, hello, hello, welcome to this trainwreck, thank you for coming.

This chapter is so fuckin' weird...

It's important stuff, though. Probably.

Don't worry, I'll bring the murder husbands back next time. I know what you came here for.

It's just... plot?

Nyeh...

Couple of fun things in this chapter... Like, we finally got to the place out front of Gehenna. It's kinda shit. Super easy job, though. WITH BENEFITS. Health insurance out the wazoo.

Also, because it'll probably never be explained in the thing, those two supernaturals he was stalking actually have names! One of them has been on my tumblr several times, but not in human form. The macho chick is a cynocephallus named "Persephone". That's why she was using sign language. Because she's a dog person. Her vocal cords don't do "ordinary" speech well. Anyways, she works at the Welfare Center as an archivist.

The other one is a witch. That's why she was fuzzy instead of actually changing shape. Paully was seein' her magic. What a creep. Anyway, her name is "Darcy". She works at the publisher's in Gehenna. Part of her job is to write local articles, but for world news, they just get a bunch of new papers and plagiarise them. Yes, that's something you can get paid for in Gehenna. Plagiarism. Eat that, college professors.

Why am I telling you all of this? I dunno. It's not really important. Like, at all. I just think it's fun for the universe to be as vast as possible. Also, the information is there, but it probably won't ever be mentioned. If it eventually does, it'll be so far off that you won't even remember that they were here. Much like the people you pass on the sidewalk everyday.

How's that for some philosophical bullshit or whatever?

What am I even doing...

I'm curious, though, what kinds of people do you think work in Gehenna? Put it in the reviews, if you want.

Or don't.

I can just speak to the void...

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!