A/N: TRACK LIST: "Unsainted," by Slipknot.

Oh, I'll never kill myself to save my soul

I was gone but how was I to know?

I didn't come this far to sink so low...

I'm finally holding onto letting go.

Evelyn felt her chest grow heavy; so heavy that she stumbled in her spot and reached out to brace herself against a wall. High Rise was dead, the synths here were gone, and Deacon was absolutely nowhere to be found.

Who could have done this?

Her first assumption was the Institute. A Courser had found the safehouse and attacked; and frankly, she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. Synth Coursers were extremely powerful; just one could have easily taken out everyone at Ticon. They could have taken Deacon for information on the Railroad, as well.

Hancock came to stand beside her, his expression grim. Angry. "Let's have a look-see," he suggested. "There may be a clue as to what exactly happened here, and where our enemies took your friend."

"If the Institute took him… then we have no hope," Evelyn replied sadly, letting out a heavy breath to try and keep herself calm. Losing control of her emotions wouldn't do any good here. "No one's ever gotten inside."

"Let's look anyways. Makin' assumptions never did anyone any good either." The ghoul began searching the surrounding area, shotgun still in-hand. "I got a gut feelin' we're not seeing the whole picture."

Evelyn nodded, leaning off the wall and beginning to look around too. She checked High Rise's body first; other than the laser burns, she didn't see anything out of place — … wait. Because his skin was so dark, she hadn't noticed it at first, but on his forehead, right in the middle, was a small symbol etched in blood. It looked like a… "a cross?" she muttered softly, brows furrowing. "Hancock, I think I found —"

"Evelyn, you should come see this." The ghoul's voice came from another area of the second floor. Suddenly anxious, she frowned and got up, joining him in another room — and what she saw there made her stop in her tracks, dropping her shotgun in shock. Even the loud clatter of the weapon against the floor didn't break her from her terrified trance.

Written on the wall, in red blood, was a message: "ABOMINATIONS DESERVE DEATH." Surrounding the words were many versions of the same symbol Evelyn had seen on High Rise's forehead.

"I think my gut feeling was right," Hancock murmured, not breaking his gaze from the horrific sight.

Evelyn took in a sharp breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart, finally stooping to retrieve her weapon. Her mind was whirling, untamed and filled with fright; fright for the Railroad, for the Synths they were trying to help, for Deacon, for her mission… in an attempt to organize her thoughts and quell her terror, she spoke her suspicions aloud. "Okay," the ravenette began breathlessly, eyes straying to look anywhere, anywhere but that damn wall. "So I'm suspecting this is a group of radicals… a small group, probably, since I've never heard of anyone like them around here… but they must be well organized and dangerous if they got the best of both High Rise and Deacon. They're very obviously anti-synth… that message on the wall is proof of that. The 'abominations' are synths. They probably took Deacon for information on the Railroad, like I thought before."

"Sounds about right," Hancock agreed grimly, finally tearing his own gaze from the wall. "I haven't seen anything else that could tell us where those bastards took Deacon, though."

Evelyn pursed her lips, feeling a bit more focused and alert. Rather than debilitating fear, she was filled with anger; anger at these bigots for killing High Rise, for taking Deacon, and for putting her own mission in jeopardy. She began searching more fervently, but found nothing of use; it wasn't until she went back to High Rise's body, beginning to thoroughly check him for any further clues, that something caught her attention. When she attempted to roll him over, something small fell out of his hand, laying gently on the floor.

A ripped piece of clothing.

Her eyes widened and she used gloved fingers to pick it up gingerly. "I think… I think this is Deacon's!" she exclaimed.

Hancock joined her at the body and peered at the tattered cloth. "Yeah, that looks like the ugly shirt he was wearin'. But I don't have the means to follow his trail based on that thing… do you?"

Evelyn's lips quirked. "Actually, yeah. I do."

Using her Pip-Boy to make a report back to the Railroad HQ, Evelyn also radioed Sturgess back at Sanctuary. Her request was for Preston to gather Dogmeat and head out immediately to meet her at the Oberland Station settlement, which seemed like a good halfway point between their locations.

It took the better half of a day to get from one place to the next, but by nightfall they'd reached Oberland and were greeted cheerfully by the sleepy settlers there. "Preston is out by the tracks," one of the men said before going into his room to retire for the night. When Evelyn and Hancock exited one of the buildings to follow the train tracks, a dog came out of the darkness, running at them at full-speed. That dog happily tackled Evelyn, licking at her face desperately and wagging his tail at the speed of light.

"Hey, boy!" she greeted, arms surrounding the German Shepherd in a hug and giving his head lots of scratches. She truly was happy to see him; that canine was her first real companion in this new mess of a world, and she usually kept him at Sanctuary for his own protection. There were dangerous things out here, things a dog stood no chance against, and Dogmeat was one creature she was not going to risk under any circumstance. When their reunion was finished, the dog peered curiously up at Hancock, his ears perking. He seemed… confused by him, hesitantly moving to sniff at his leg. Evelyn flushed in embarrassment. "I don't think he's met many…"

"... ghouls, yeah," Hancock finished, seeming unbothered. He stooped down and offered a hand for the canine to sniff, smiling slightly. "It's alright. I haven't seen many dogs that weren't mutated or feral beyond belief." After getting a good sniff of the ghoul and finally deciding that he wasn't one of the 'bad ones,' Dogmeat boofed happily and nuzzled into Hancock's hand, wagging his tail. It was clear he was still curious about the ghoul, but a friendship was quickly being formed; the sight warmed Evelyn's heart.

Another figure came closer to them, emerging into the light of the settlement. Preston, holding his laser musket and looking as vigilant as ever. "I'm guessing it's something important, General," he said. "You don't usually request these kinds of things with so much urgency."

"Deacon is missing." Evelyn's explanation of the crime scene was short and to the point. "Thank you for bringing Dogmeat. I think he'll do a fine job sniffing out Deacon's trail. You're free to go back to Sanctuary if you wish, Preston... we could also use your help with this, though, if you choose."

Preston seemed to consider. Evelyn knew this wasn't out of laziness or a preference for staying out of danger; when she was gone, Preston usually ran things around the settlement and made decisions for the Minutemen. He was a man who took any responsibility very seriously, so she knew asking him to take off on a mission with her, effectively leaving things in others' hands for a while, was difficult for him. Finally, he reluctantly nodded. "I'll be happy to watch your back, General."

"I'll make arrangements for Sturgess to conduct business in Sanctuary for a few days," she reassured him, immediately accessing her Pip-Boy and relaying the message. Afterwards, Evelyn beckoned Dogmeat and presented the tattered piece of clothing; something she'd kept safely in a small bag in her pocket to avoid tainting the smell. When he sniffed it, however, his ears perked and he looked up at her curiously, before nosing at her hand. Immediately Evelyn's face fell — apparently Dogmeat smelled her on the shirt rather than Deacon. "Not me, boy," she tried to encourage him. "Catch the other scent. This shirt belongs to our friend Deacon. Remember him? We need to find him."

The Shepherd stared at her for another moment, still wagging his tail curiously, before finally giving the cloth another long sniff. This time, he seemed to catch on; he let out a short bark before taking off to the west. "A-hunting we go," Evelyn said to her companions with a smile, before hastily following the canine.

Dogmeat stopped to sniff at the cloth repeatedly as he led the group in a westward direction; before they knew it, the canine had led them to a lone church in the hills. It had a dome-like structure with one steeple at the entrance; but perhaps the oddest thing about the lonely little building was its bright red door. Many of the windows were busted and the place looked completely abandoned, but it was still standing, resilient against the devastation of the bombs. "I've seen this place on a few maps," Preston commented as they cautiously moved in a bit closer. "Never thought it was anything special, though."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from these assholes." Hancock's expression was dark as he stared up at the cross on the apex of the steeple. "A buncha goddamn religious nuts using a church as their headquarters? Fitting. Too bad they fucked with the wrong people."

Preston glanced sideways at Hancock, seemingly annoyed with the use of language, but their sentiments were the same. "You don't think they're Children of Atom, do you?" he asked Evelyn. "That's the only religious group in the Commonwealth that immediately comes to mind."

Evelyn frowned, seemingly deep in thought. She'd been quiet this entire time, utterly focused on the task at hand and dead-set on finding Deacon. "I don't think so. This crew used laser weapons, not gamma guns... and as far as I know, Children of Atom have never directly targeted synths." She paused once more, hand moving to unclip her combat shotgun from its place at her hip. "Either way, I'm sending them straight to hell."

The three slowly approached the front door, three sets of eyes moving to check for any traps, tripwires, or triggers. Hancock carefully stooped to take apart the tripwire he saw at the bottom of the door. "Clear," he whispered, getting back to his feet and making sure his shotgun was loaded. Meanwhile Preston had snuck over to one of the lower-level windows and peered through it, looking around for any hidden enemies or traps awaiting them inside. When he came back, Evelyn found confusion all over his face. "It's... empty," he muttered, as if he couldn't believe his own eyes. "There's nothing in there, other than a pile of rubble. No supplies, no beds, no traps, no turrets, no people. You don't think Dogmeat was...?"

"Wrong? No," Evelyn responded without missing a beat. Lowering her shotgun, she let out a sigh. "I... I doubt it. Maybe. But I still think we should check the place out. He couldn't have led us to this particular place for nothing."

The trio crept inside the church; Evelyn commanded Dogmeat to stay near the door in case danger awaited them further inside. But as they entered, they found that Preston had been correct — there was nothing but a pile of rubble in the middle of the church from where a section of the roof had crumbled. "Let's look around," Hancock suggested, and the three split up to scour different parts of the church. It was the ghoul who found something on the floor in the back of the building; when the others came to investigate his findings, they found it was... a hatch, or some kind of trap door, partially covered by debris. Kicking dirt and planks of wood out of the way, Preston moved to open it while the other two pointed their muzzles at it defensively.

But there was nothing but darkness — and a ladder. The trio exchanged looks, but it was Evelyn who finally spoke. "Who's up for a little underground exploration?"

"This wasn't the kind of exploration I was thinkin' of doing with you," Hancock muttered as he helped Evelyn down from the four foot gap between the ladder and solid ground.

"If we make it through this, I've got a few ideas I think you'll like much more," the ravenette replied, obviously teasing, but it still got him excited regardless. Thinking of all the positions he could get that lithe body into… all the places his mouth could explore… the ghoul soon found himself forgetting their current mission entirely and had to forcibly shake the thoughts from his head. Licking suddenly dry lips, he left Preston to find his own way down and followed Evelyn further into the darkness.

Despite knowing the seriousness of their current situation, Hancock simply couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth: "so… what kinda ideas you have, Sister? Humor me…"

He could hear Preston grunting from behind them as he dropped to the ground, quickly catching up. His tone was laced with disgust as he interrupted. " — do you really think now is the time for that kind of talk?"

Hancock's lip curled defensively. "Hey, just because you're a virgin…"

"Who says Preston is a virgin?"

The phrase itself wasn't surprising; it was the person who said it. As she spoke, Evelyn glanced back at the two men, a playful glint in her gray eyes. Jaw dropping, Hancock looked from her to Preston, who was… "are you blushing?" the ghoul demanded.

Preston didn't answer. Hancock suddenly felt a tug of jealousy in his chest, dropping his heart down into his stomach. On instinct his hands clenched his shotgun a little more tightly as his eyes shifted to Evelyn, narrowing on her. "You and Preston have…?"

She must've noticed the tinge of bitterness in his expression because the humor faded from her visage and her eyes widened slightly. "I'm joking," she answered in a reassuring tone. "All in good fun."

The tension drained from his shoulders and he forced an easy smile onto his face. "Yeah, I figured."

"I should be used to the General joking like that by now…" Preston mumbled in embarrassment, hefting his laser musket and brushing by the ghoul to continue down the dark path.

Evelyn tried her absolute best to focus one hundred percent of her attention on the path ahead of her, she really did; but something about Hancock's reaction to her joke bothered her. He didn't seem like the type to be possessive or jealous… but his bitter expression spoke volumes.

The thought of her and Preston having sex made him angry.

That realization spun around in the ravenette's head until she forcefully shoved it down and narrowed her eyes on the darkness. It felt like the trio walked ahead forever, following the twists and turns of the path until finally they saw lights in the distance. She quickened her pace as much as she could while still looking for traps — and skidded to a halt when she realized the tunnel widened into an opening. If it hadn't been for Preston grabbing her arm and hauling her backwards, she would've stepped right into the light and possibly been seen. He pulled her back into two sets of arms, both of which encircled her safely; now three pairs of eyes peered out into the opening to see…

A church. Or, a room that was decorated like one. Like the church above ground would've looked like had it not been ruined by the bombs. Several people milled about, some chanting lowly under their breath, others cleaning or going about normal business. All of them were dressed in religious robes. "What… the… fuck," Hancock muttered.

Evelyn frowned. "Zealots. Like we thought. How come I've never heard of them…?"

"I don't know, but this looks bad," Preston replied in a hushed tone. "Is there any chance of radioing the Minutemen for back-up?"

As the two men let her go, Evelyn tried contacting Sturgess through her radio, but to no avail. Could've been because they were underground… or maybe radio interference. Either way, they were alone. She hoped Dogmeat found a safe place to hide and wait this whole thing out. "Did either of you see Deacon?" she whispered.

Both men shook their heads. Evelyn's expression darkened. "If they hurt him, I swear to god…"

Preston set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Deacon's annoying, but he's tough. So tough that I almost want to believe him when he says he's as old as you. He's okay."

Evelyn bit her lip. Let's hope you're right, she thought miserably, turning her attention back to the situation at-hand. There were at least six people that she could see, a few of them sitting in pews, one by the altar, a couple in the back cleaning the floor, and another sitting in meditation in a corner. For a brief moment, she considered her usual go-to option of trying to talk it out with these people. She didn't like taking lives; she was a nurse, a healer. But Evelyn thought of what these assholes had done to High Rise and the synths… what they might do to Deacon… and she knew what had to happen here.

"I'll go for the ones toward the front, and you two split up and share the rest," she said quietly. "I don't know how big the rest of this place is — but I'm positive that once the rest of these cowards hear us, they'll come running. Be ready for a helluva fight, boys." With that, she made sure a shell was in the chamber of her combat shotgun and took a step forward —

— snap.

Evelyn prepared to leap backwards, away from the blast even though she knew it wouldn't be far enough... but she felt a strong pair of arms surround her and she was thrown forward instead, twisting and landing on top of a warm body.

BOOM. She felt blazing heat singeing her boots and she curled into the person underneath her, hoping against hope that the flames wouldn't engulf them; a loud, deep rumbling shook them all and Evelyn finally lifted her head to see the mouth of the tunnel collapsing — and she just so happened to be on the other side of the cave-in.

Right in the middle of the underground chapel.

Everything happened at once. The chapel burst with action, with gunfire erupting and fire from the explosion eating away at the pews nearest the entrance.

A quick glance below her told Evelyn that Hancock had been her savior, yet again. How many times had he watched her back, now? And how many more times would he save her life? Focusing on the present, Evelyn lifted her head once more. She and Hancock were thankfully protected by a toppled-over pew, but fire was beginning to consume the far end of the pew so they would need to move soon. And where was Preston?

That was when she realized that the gunfire was focused not on Hancock and herself, but at a large boulder that had rolled out from the entrance's collapse. And behind that boulder was Preston, back to the rock and a grimace on his face. He was trapped there… one wrong move and he'd be riddled with bullets.

She had to help.

A groan from beneath her caused Evelyn to shift, brows furrowing as her eyes met Hancock's face. He looked… dazed. Upon further inspection, she saw red blooming on the back of his head… "Shit," she muttered, quickly grabbing a spare shirt from her back-pack and ripping it. He must've hit his head pretty hard when he landed on the pavement… Wrapping the makeshift bandage around his head, she grabbed his tricorn hat which had fallen off in their stumble, put it on his chest, and began dragging him away from the burning end of the pew. Spotting her combat shotgun on the floor a few meters away, Evelyn peeked over the edge of the pew to get a visual on the room; it seemed that these zealots, no matter how fervent they were their gunfire, were somehow afraid of close-range fighting. They made no moves to come any closer — why? Was it paranoia?

Either way, she had to get her primary weapon. As soon as she got her hands on it, she'd find some way to get closer to the enemy; perhaps then she could exploit their fear and get rid of them quickly. Crawling over Hancock, who was fading in and out of consciousness, Evelyn skittered across the floor on her hands and knees, snatching up her shotgun and hastily scooting back toward cover — thankfully she had been able to get her weapon without being shot, but now the gunfire was on her. Bullets were quickly ripping apart the wood; sinking lower and lower until she was practically laying on the ground, Evelyn's eyes met Preston's. Beseeching him. Without an exchange of words, Preston knew immediately what she wanted; this wasn't the first time they'd fought together, not by a long shot, and they both knew the others fighting style quite well by now. With a firm nod, he leaned up and began firing at them — and luckily, on the first shot, took one of the robed bastards down.

Resisting the urge to hoot and holler in a cheer, Evelyn settled for giving him a thumbs-up from her position and beginning to make her way down the pew, remaining behind it for cover. Preston, taking the full brunt of the attack now, began maneuvering between crouching for cover and firing with his laser musket; he was a damn good distraction, that was for sure. Evelyn was able to begin making her way around the back end of the room without so much as a single bullet in her direction. Then again… she was good at this. Very, very good. In fact, she liked to say she'd somewhat mastered the technique of sneaking up on an enemy and taking them out at close range. It made her a very good partner for Preston, who favored long-range attacks with his laser musket.

There were four left by the time Evelyn got to them. Inching around a cluster of lockers used for god-knows-what, she pumped the fore-end of her combat shotgun, turned off the safety, and rested a finger on the trigger. The one nearest to her was so close that with a few steps she could just knife them — but that would leave her vulnerable to the gun-fire. No… she had to think this through. Even if she was able to quickly take out two of them, and that was if she had a steady enough aim to get two one-hit kills, that would leave her wide open to the remaining two. 'Damnit,' she hissed. This would be no good.

She didn't like to use them — and who knows what the damage would do to the cave… but desperate times called for desperate measures. Grabbing a disc-like object from her pack and arming it, she carefully placed it as far in front of her as she possibly could without being caught before slowly beginning to sneak back the way she came. Once Evelyn was far enough away that she felt she'd be (mostly) clear of the blast, she stood up from behind her cover and began making shots. She knew the shotgun blasts likely wouldn't hit, considering she wasn't close enough, but she didn't need to hit them.

She just needed to get their attention.

'Just a little to the left…' she urged desperately as she began darting around the area, ducking behind pews and other objects; anything and everything she could do to get them to follow. After a bullet whizzed by her cheek, just barely searing her skin, the ravenette grew frustrated. Were they really that afraid of getting close? How many fucking bullets did they have? Why couldn't they —

BOOM.

Evelyn was thrown backwards, right into a jagged rock wall. The first thing she noticed as her hazy vision cleared and she began recovering from her disorientation… was pain, searing up her spine and throbbing in her head. The next thing she noticed was the smell. It was awful. The odor of burning, rotting flesh filled her nostrils — and the worst part was that she wasn't even sure if it was the enemy's… or her own. Her vision began blurring again; she immediately recognized her current condition as a concussion. Her back and head were the worst affected… but her legs were tingling too, and she wasn't sure if it was due to the explosion or the impact on her spine.

"General!"

Preston's warbled, floating face appeared in front of her and Evelyn blinked several times in an effort to get him to hold still. "Did it work?" she asked faintly.

"They're gone," he replied seriously. "But you're… you're not okay."

"It's a concussion, Preston." Evelyn, upon reaching up to grab his shoulder, found that her range of motion was severely limited. The impact on her spine had left her whole body in a state of shock… but she remembered what they were doing here and a fervent rage filled her, stirring her back into action. Attempting to sit up, she protested, "I just need —"

"I don't know WHO you people are," a voice boomed from the front of the room, "But the destruction you have caused in this holy place is deplorable."

Both Evelyn and Preston turned their shocked gazes toward the owner of the voice — a bald man in robes that matched those of his brethren. There was something about this man, however, that seemed different. Evelyn immediately knew, even with her vision fading in and out, that this man was the leader of this group. Despite the pain reverberating through her body, Evelyn was so overcome with anger that she found herself yelling at him. "TELL us what you've done with our friend, you piece of shit!"

"... Ah. That annoying man kept telling us that someone would be coming to rescue him… but, well, he'd told us it would be an army of trained super mutants — not two puny humans and a useless ghoul."

Despite the severity of the situation, Evelyn rolled her eyes. Did Deacon have to be a compulsive liar all the time? Before she could tell the bastard not to say a single fucking word about Hancock, the bald man spoke once more. "I hate to take your lives. All human life is… sacred. But you have taken human life, therefore yours is… forfeit."

"What about High Rise?!" Evelyn growled. "He was a HUMAN and you BUTCHERED him!"

"He protected an abomination, therefore his life was forfeit."

"You mean a synth," Preston confirmed, his grip on his gun tightening. "What makes you think their lives are worth any less than ours?"

To hear such a sentiment from Preston was almost jarring. Evelyn had made it no secret her opinion on the Railroad and on innocent synths who were being hunted by the Institute; but to hear Preston defend them in such a way was…

"They are abominations," the bald man spat. "They are machine — not meant to mingle with humanity! They are the result of mankind's sins."

Despite the weakness in her arms, Evelyn's abject horror and anger tightened her grip on Preston's arm. He finally turned his head to look back at her with widened eyes. "Kill that goddamn psychopath," she growled lowly.

And everything went black.

Preston wasn't sure how this was going to play out. He may not have been outnumbered, but he had two unconscious people to protect while his opponent had nothing to lose. Plus… something about this man unsettled him, although he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Carefully sliding Evelyn down to lay prone on the ground, Preston hefted his laser musket and stood, turning to face the group leader, who hadn't moved an inch from his spot at the altar. "Well? Aren't you going to take my life?" he asked challengingly, face contorted into a grim expression.

"Tell me everything you know about the Railroad and any synths they may be hiding, and I may decide to forgive your intrusion… and all the damage you've caused."

"Not a chance." Winding up the musket, Preston lifted it to eye-level and took aim. "How about you give our companion back, and I kill you anyways?"

Even from thirty feet away, Preston could see the grin that curled the man's lips. It was the first time his enemy had done anything other than stand there and stare at him. It was almost… chilling. If he hadn't been watching the man like a hawk, he might've missed the subtle movement of his hand, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing something. "Drop the weapon or I shoot!" Preston warned.

"You should have already done it."

Suddenly the man was taking whatever he'd grabbed and stabbing it into his leg. A syringe of something, no doubt — and then Preston nearly dropped his musket in shock. The man's whole body was suddenly… glowing. Why, he didn't know. HOW, he didn't know. And how to combat it, he sure as hell didn't know.

But he had to protect the General.

Scurrying to pick up his musket, he began firing. Wind up, fire; wind up, fire; wind up, fire — but all of the lasers bounced off of the grinning man like he was made of pure energy himself… how was this possible?

Preston's most trusted weapon, the weapon he had the most experience with, the weapon that had gotten him through thick and thin, the weapon that had helped rebuild the Minutemen, was useless.

Tossing it down, he stooped to grab the next weapon closest to him — Evelyn's combat shotgun. So this would be a close-range fight; Preston was no expert with close quarters combat, but he had to do something. Preston started for the glowing man, but skidded to a halt when he shot a beam of energy at his feet. Shocked, the Minuteman stared. This maniac was a literal conduit for laser energy. Preston had never seen anything like it. Heart hammering in his chest, he began weaving through pews, making it as difficult as he possibly could for his opponent to get a hit on him; but it was only a matter of time before lightning struck, and Preston wouldn't be able to make any headway in getting close enough to strike. This was a cat-and-mouse game… and he was the mouse.

As Preston began zig-zagging toward the back of the room, trying to gauge if this villain had a limit to how far he could extend his energy, the man began to give chase, finally moving from his spot at the altar. He was so awash with energy that he levitated off the floor, merely floating in Preston's direction. As his enemy got closer, Preston twisted to try and take aim with the shotgun, only to find himself careening backwards… after having tripped over the pew behind him.

His back hit the floor and the shotgun skittered across the floor, out of reach. Pain bloomed in his shoulder and he gasped for air, unable to catch his breath; and in moments the man was on him. Now that he was up close, Preston could see just how horrifying he looked; this man… he was not human. There was nothing human about the way crackling white-blue energy hummed under every pore, replaced the hues of his eyes, expelled from his fingertips.

"Tell me what you know about the Railroad," the man threatened, voice reverberating through the room. He even sounded like electricity, now. "and I'll make this as painless as possible!"

Preston shifted, brows furrowing. If he had to die for his convictions… so be it. "In the words of the General," he said resolutely, "fuck you."

Pain arced through his bloodstream, blooming from a spot in his shoulder, and he vaguely thought he smelt the burning of flesh. He wanted to throw up. Why couldn't he throw up? In the distance he heard agonized screaming — and suddenly he realized that was him.

Finally the pain relented and sweat poured into Preston's eyes as he tried to focus on the demon hovering over him. "Tell me where the abominations are!" the demon demanded with a voice like thunder.

The pain, apparently, had temporarily blinded Preston. He hadn't noticed what was happening behind the demon and thankfully it hadn't, either. "Behind you," Preston whispered.

WHACK.

Behind the body that thudded to the ground stood Hancock, wavering on his feet with dried blood on his forehead. Underneath his tricorn hat was a makeshift bandage stained with the stuff. He stared down at the body with narrowed black eyes as he dropped the heavy piece of rubble he'd used to knock the man down.

"Who the fuck are you callin' useless, you piece of trash?"