The Scarlet Order has suffered considerable losses since the turncoat letters surfaced. They hadn't realised what exactly was leading their foes to them, but assumed that they simply had their ways. It was a major mistake on their part, as it cost them greatly.

This amateur mistake allowed H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. to know exactly where they were and where they were going. They sunk their ships by dropping bombs on them. Each time, they looked out for the one with the flag with the heart silhouette and dagger on it's flag as to not destroy it by mistake. That crew was a valuable asset to H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G; and they knew that it would be stupid to accidentally blow it up. Ships sunk and ground forces were apprehended and executed as well by the collaborative efforts of the local government and the British special force groups. A few countries simply worked alone, after having H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. train troops.

Naturally, the leaders of the order were less than thrilled. They gathered privately in order to discuss the situation. They had to come up with a solution fast or risk being wiped out completely. Their territories have started to become dissatisfied with the way things were going, and they would lose even more people if they decided to pull back. The order had lost so many already.

"We need to do something about those planes." Preston said to the other two at the table.

"Can we get our hands on a couple of missiles?" questioned Hobbs, rubbing his chin. The man was as burly and animal-like in appearance as ever while his accomplices simply looked knackered.

"There's no way to acquire them even if the budget allowed it." the Omid replied, shaking his head. "Even if we could get one or two, that won't arm the whole fleet. We've got over a dozen boats out there, and they're scattered while looking for allies and supplies. There's also the land troops to worry about."

"What about magic?" the beastman suggested. "Can the witches or any other supernaturals create projectiles?"

"No clue." Preston said. "Wink, what do you think?"

"It could be done, I suppose..." the woman replied, although she didn't sound enthusiastic. "It would take a lot of manpower, and a spell like that would take time to charge. It's also just unlikely that we're gonna hit a plane going that fast. If we miss, we're sunk."

"Fuck..." grumbled Hobbs, clenching his fist slightly. "We have all of this power, but their technology has us beat..."

"This is going to get messy, but I'm sure there's a way that we can gain the upper hand." the group's leader stated. "Lives will be lost, but we can win. All we need is the right piece..."

"What piece would that be?" asked the witch, lazily resting her hand in her palm. "How easy will it be to get?"

"I'm not sure… I have ideas, but… I need more time to think it through." Preston answered. "Everything has to be perfect."

"Lovely." Hobbs snorted, folding his tree-trunks of arms. "You should work on capturing me some enemy soldiers. I'd love to have one or two as a plaything."

"You already have enough."

"It's never enough. There's always room for improvement."

"Can we focus on the task at hand?" Wink butted in, annoyed with the change of subject. She never liked Doctor Hobb's experiments, and didn't understand his incessant desire to play with the body and its genetics. "People are dying. If we don't think of something soon, we'll all be wiped out. Even your experiments, too, Hobbs."

"How dare you say that about my children?" the Doctor shot back strictly to annoy the woman, and it worked.

"If only it was just you and your bloody experiments they wiped out. That would be a fair trade, given how worthless they are!"

"They are not worthless!" growled the man, standing up and towering over the others in the room. His head almost his the ceiling when he stood, and his intimidating form caused Wink to instinctively retreat. "They are the future!"

"Enough." interrupted Preston, stopping things before they could start. He stood up as well, and although he wasn't the tallest of most physically imposing as Hobbs, he still had a frightening presence when he was irritable. It was certainly sufficient in causing the other two to be quiet. "I am going to flesh out this plan a bit more. This will be all for now. We can't risk rushing into things. This plan must be flawless, given what we're up against."

His comrades didn't seem too happy with the meeting ending this way. They stared at him for a moment before standing up and politely walking out. Preston remained and continued his thoughts. His brow furrowed as he was none too pleased with the circumstance either. In addition, he knew that his followers were becoming dissatisfied, which made his blood boil.

Damn them! H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. needed to fall! Preston hadn't even struck them yet, and they were already wiping him out! He had just gotten enough followers to launch an attack, but lacked the funds or equipment. Now, he wouldn't even get the chance. Everything was slipping out of his grasp. He had power, but it was fading quickly. If he didn't do something soon, he was going to lose it all completely, if not get wiped out, himself.

Folding his hands, he tightly knit his fingers together with a grimmace. He was angry, but his anger was a secondary reaction. It was a response to his fear. Despite everything he had built up, there was no escaping the beast of an organization that was H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G.! It was right on his heels and it was biting. Everything he had before was gone. His family, his friends, his secure life; all of it was gone. All that he had left was the Scarlet Order and it was the only thing keeping him alive. It was the final barrier between him and H.E.L.L.S.I.N.G. and it was starting to break. Preston could not allow that. No matter what it took, he would survive the attack!

It was harder than he thought, however. He had lost half of his ships in a matter of weeks. His ground troops were under fire as well. If things continued as they were, he would be finished very soon.

Preston really didn't need any more bad news, but it came anyway. Golden eyes flickered up toward the door as he heard a fist pounding against it frantically. He knew it was nothing good, but he had to know, anyway.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice was loud enough to be heard through the door, and without any warning, it swung open and one of his underlings stepped through.

"Sir!" the flunkie began as he tried to catch his breath. "It's the hawks!"

"What about them?" Preston inquired with an eyebrow raised.

The Band of the Hawk was his finest troop of scouts. They were equipped for any situation that was thrown at them along with their elven leader, Griffin. They had secured supplies and allies to suit several ships and squads, so they were one of his greatest assets. In fact, they were the ones who reported back what happened to the first troop that stumbled across the skin thief village of elves with all of their limbs in tact. In fact, if anything were to happen to them, Preston would not be pleased.

"Griffin went against orders!" the underling declared. "He's taking his troops to the hud tyv village!"

"What?! Why?!"

"The village is at war with the trolls, sir. He wanted to get on their good side by helping them!"

"He what?!" demanded the leader of the order, standing up from his seat. "Norwegian trolls are no joke. If he goes there, he will be fighting against both them and the elves. That's why I told him to stay away!"

"He did it anyway, sir. He wouldn't listen! I'm so-"

Preston cut the flunkie off by slapping a hand over his mouth. His stature caused the other to shrink, and his golden eyes pierced the poor creature through. Preston was furious, and his face showed it, if his squeezing of his underling's face didn't. Gritting his teeth, the man huffed before coming up with a reply.

"If Griffin comes back alive, bring him to me, immediately." the Omid hissed, his grip hurting the other. "If he dares to show his face again after disobeying me, he will suffer greatly. Is that understood?" With that, he let go.

"Y-yes, sir..."

"Good… Now leave."

The terrified underling lightly bowed before quickly scurrying away as fast as they could. Luckily, they avoided the brunt of the oncoming storm. As soon as that door closed again, the Omid's temper got the best of him. It began when his fist clenched to the point where it was shaking. Then, once it could no longer bear the tension, the man cocked his arm back and punched the metal door. A perfect fist-sized dent was left behind on it's surface. It didn't end there, however. The leader of the Scarlet Order threw a tantrum. He yelled and screamed, he broke things, and he stomped his feet. He broke furniture and flipped the table he had previously been calmly sitting at. By the time he was done, his quarters were a wreck. All that was left was himself.

His chest and shoulders raised as he panted. Reason had started to come back to him once he had broken all that he was willing to break. Running a hand through his hair, he trudged over to his chair and sat in the middle of the room alone as a think layer of sweat coated his skin. Preston had to be reasonable. This was still not over yet. After coming so far, he wasn't simply going to roll over and die.

With silence filling the room again, the man closed his eyes and once again started to think. He had to consider all of the resources he had and could possibly obtain. There were still many tools at his disposal and pawns he hadn't yet played. He sat there for one hour, which soon became two and then two and a half before he had some vague idea of what he possessed and what he could do with them.

In that time, he came up with many schemes. Most of them were nothing to be proud of. Some of them required a very particular piece, which was going to take time to collect. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes finally opened and readjusted to the light. They focused on the ceiling before he faced directly in front of him again. Gold became transfixed on a mirror on the other side of the room and he lifted himself before walking toward it.

Staring intently at his reflection, he placed his hands on the dresser in between himself and the wall and leaned against it. There, he saw the face of the man who ran the Scarlet Order. It was the face of the man most wanted by the British government. It was the face of a terrorist, a traitor, and a man who was starting to loose his grip on himself. His very humanity was slipping away. It was happening slowly, but one day, it will vanish all at once. He knew this. He was afraid. What he was afraid of more, however, was death. As Preston gazed at his own reflection, he could see all of this. He knew that he was destroying himself. It was simply a matter of finishing what he started, now.

Slowly, he raised his right hand and brought it to the collar of his shirt. Hooking his fingers around the elastic, he pulled the fabric down, revealing his chest. The hard, black growth that seeped from the old wound on his chest had grown, covering most of his chest. What it didn't cover, however, was one small, circular spot right over his sternum, underneath his collarbone. A pentagram had been etched into his chest, staining his skin with a diabolical signature. Sighing, Preston stared at it even more anxiously than he did at his own visage.

"This isn't over..." he said. "Not until I say so..."


A/N: Nyello...

Sorry I didn't update over the past few days. I'm still working out the kinks in this storyline... It's a bit complex? More complex than I expected. I just expected lots of punching and things blowing up, but here we are!

Preston pls...

I still don't even have like, a cohesive "Theme" for this arc. If any of you have ideas, then tell me what you think this whole thing is exploring in the reviews. I'm curious as to what you think.

Until the next chapter, my duckies~!


CHARACTER SHET

Question: "I have a question for Ciel. Will you ever change your mind about a cat for Sebastian? If you're still allergic, there's a bunch of cats great for people with allergies." by linda. .7 and "Ciel, why won't you let Sebastian have a cat? You can even buy one of those weird-ass-bald cats! Alois, convince your husband! #ACatForSebastian" by Guest

Ciel: "I don't know. It's stubbornness, I suppose, but I also just don't want an animal in the house, getting fur and other things all over my furniture and floors."

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Question: "Luka, how is school? Do you still find sign language hard?" by Guest

Luka: "It's a lot of fun! The other kids are real nice and I really like going all the time! I even made a few friends! Sign language is still hard, but I know a few words now."