Dreams, Memories and Visions Long Gone

By Cordelia Yang

Part II: Today's Fears

Aria padded around the house quietly, going to check in on the guests who had been given a room each. She opened the first door.

Tres turned around. "Yes, Lady Aria?"

Aria smiled, "Just checking if you need anything."

"Negative. The room is more than adequate for my needs."

"Okay. Good night, then."

"Good night, Lady Aria." She shut the door and went on to the next room. Cracking the door open, she saw that Abel was fast asleep on his bed and snoring quite loudly. She hid a smile and closed the door gently.

She was about to open the last door, when her hand froze above the knob uncertainly. She frowned to herself and forced her hand down. The door opened into a deadly dark aura that pervaded the room. D said softly from the bed, "I don't wish to be disturbed."

"Very well. I was just checking if you needed anything." Aria snarled in reply, forcing the deadly aura surrounding her back to the Hunter, "You have no need to employ such methods on me and my mother, even if they worked. The Asran clan protects its guests." The Hunter seemed to be surprised by the girl's power.

"How did you manage to do that?"

"Force your aura back? By using my own." Aria projected her aura in full strength now, a brilliant, almost blinding manifestation. She pulled it back in and the room sank back into darkness. Her voice was dryly amused as she commented, "You seem to have forgotten that I am at least a hundred years older than you are, and my mother was a stronger Methuselah than Vlad Drakul."

D turned his face to her, every one of his perfect features curious yet intent. "Why don't you hunt?"

"Hunt Methuselah?" Aria sighed and gave a humorless laugh, "The only job a dhampir can do." She shook her head and her beautiful eyes narrowed in memory. "My father hated conflict and violence. I hate it now, too. I don't think it's right or necessary to enforce peace with violence." She laughed again, this time sadly. "But it seems the only thing the fallen Methuselah understand is violence and death."

D turned his head back to look at the ceiling. "The fallen— Yes, that is a good name for them."

Cain laughed in a soft voice. "So brother Abel has found himself a nice vampire hunter and he thinks that he can take me down? Wait, no. You think this hunter can take me down?" He cupped his long perfect face in his one of long slender hands, and smiled at them.

"Well….possibly, sir." Isaak replied uncomfortably. Cain threw his head back and laughed more loudly this time. Dietrich and Isaak exchanged glances, and Dietrich raised an eyebrow, silently saying I told you so. Cain turned to one of the figures behind him.

"They think a mere half-vampire can take me down! Oh, what a hoot, don't you think, my sweet?" Silence. Cain turned to the figure on the other side, "Darling?" There was no reply. Cain shrugged elegantly, French fashion. "Oh well. I do appreciate your concern, my sweet boys, but there is no way that either dear Abel or this hunter can kill me. The hunter, obviously, because he is a mere dhampir, isn't strong enough. And dear silly Abel, who is strong enough, has a problem killing. So they won't pose a problem. In fact, they might even give me some amusement."

"But, sir—" Isaak started. Cain waved them away smilingly, his attention lost. Isaak bared his teeth in frustration and left with a smirking Dietrich.

"Where exactly are we going, Tres?" huffed Abel Nightroad as he strove to keep up with the android's efficient trot. Beside them strode D, who kept up with no apparent effort.

"My updated data banks tell me that I have uplink access to four different mainframe computer sources—three of which are now defunct: the Vatican, Albion, and the Empire of the New Breed. The fourth computer source is approximately 9,836 years old, and is still active. We are proceeding to the location which corresponds to the I.P. address of this source that Lady Astha was kind enough to help me triangulate.

"Why?" D asked.

"There are only two possibilities: The source is intended as bait, or it is from a friend. Either way, it will aid us."

"If the former, we should prepare for battle."

"Positive." They continued at breakneck speed, with Tres in the lead, followed closely by D and a panting and huffing Abel. Finally, Tres stopped in front of door painted a garish shade of green.

"This is the place."

"What a disgusting color!" Abel exclaimed, staring at the door.

"It has a coat of arms traced on it." D observed quietly, "Perhaps the bright color is to distract people from looking too closely at it."

"Hey, that's right!" Abel cried in surprise, examining the door minutely. "It's the….Fortuna coat of arms?"

Tres scanned the door dispassionately. "Positive." He reached out an arm to knock on the door, but it unfolded inwards before he could contact the wood.

"Come on in." A voice rang out. The three men proceeded cautiously into the large airy room filled with mechanical clutter and computers. The windows were tinted grey. A young lad came out from a room, swiping his glossy blond hair out of his baby blue eyes.

"Ion!" Abel called, at the same time that Tres said, "Count of Memphis."

Ion Fortuna grinned at the three men. "Long time no see, Abel and Tres. And I daresay, it's Casimir, isn't it?"

"D." D said. His expression was unchanged, but the air cooled rapidly around him.

Ion squinted at D. "You sure have grown up to be grouchy. You don't remember me, do you? Your mother brought you to see me when you were five or six years old."

Abel and Tres looked at D, who frowned. "My mother? Why?"

Ion pointed to D's blue pendant. "For that."

"How did you know my mother?" D's hands were clenched tightly.

Ion chuckled. "I knew your mother, her father and his father." He waved an arm at Abel and Tres. "And they knew your grandfather very well."

Abel frowned. "Ion, you're not making any sense. How could we possibly…"

"He was an AX member." Ion said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Guess away."

"Uh, Leon." Abel said, tentatively.

"No." Ion said, rolling his eyes.

Abel scratched his head, "The Professor?"

"No." Ion sighed.

Tres gave a series of bleeps, and rattled off, "Father Hughes deWatteau. His son Hayes deWatteau had a daughter, Hannah deWatteau, who was 25 at the time of the Methuselah war. She was taken into service by the Methuselah war leader Vlad Drakul. They had a son, Casimir deWatteau Drakul." The air around D positively crystallized with dignified fury.

Oblivious to the change in atmosphere, Ion made a face. "You used the database."

"Positive." Tres replied, a trace of smugness in his tone. Abel deliberated for a while, and studied D carefully.

"Actually, when I come to think of it, the family resemblance is extremely pronounced."

D looked at him with death in his eyes. Abel quickly glanced away, pretending not to have noticed. "Anyway, Ion, why did you want us here?"

"You're searching for the Rosen Kruez again." It wasn't a question. "And you know what they took from me. My faith and trust in the only person I had ever loved. If it hadn't been for Esther, I would have lost the will to live, or turned into something as black as them." Ion's soft blue eyes hardened. "And they haven't stopped their mad rampage. Everyday, more people get hurt by them. Just as the old wounds begin to close, they attack and force more people into the fringes. So I want to help where I can. It's not just revenge for Radu anymore. It's fighting for the world, fighting for it to have a chance to heal." He paused for breath

"You have information." D stated.

"Yes." Ion turned to the nearest computer and started typing. A picture appeared on the LCD panel. "This is Jichiyo Tadashiko (正子。慈血良). He's one of the Methuselah in Rosen Kruez." The Asian man was delicate, almost effeminate in appearance, but the steel in his eyes made it clear that he was not to be taken lightly. "He was an anti-Noble, anti-war Boyare activist, and that was how he got into the Orden. So, in the Orden, he works as a spy for me. A few months ago, Jichiyo sent me this." He tapped the keyboard efficiently. A picture of an elegant but feral-looking man and his details appeared beside it. "Wenceslas Botolf. He's one of Dietrich's men."

"Dietrich?" Abel snapped, angrily, "Dietrich von Longhengrin?"

"Yes."

"That piece of scum is still alive?"

Ion shrugged, "Cain decided it would be fun to make Dietrich a Methuselah. Isaak von Kampfer agreed." Abel's face tightened with anger. The three men who had hurt, or killed, almost all of the women close to him, had the audacity to have fun by turning people into Methuselahs.

"I'm going to kill all of those bastards," he snarled. His fists clenched, and his eyes took on a dangerous vermillion shade. Ion paled and stepped backwards involuntarily.

"Abel." Tres said warningly.

Abel pressed a pale hand to his nose, closed his eyes and breathed in shallowly a few times. "Sorry."

Ion shook his head, and laughed a little hollowly "No need to be. I know why you hate them. It's just that it's been a while since I saw your Crusnik form and I--"

"Wenceslas Botolf. Where can we find him?" cut in D.

Ion shook his head again. "You're right. Too many reminiscences distract. Wenceslas Botolf was one of the Boyare who opposed the rule of Vlad Drakul. He joined the Orden in hopes that Drakul could be defeated, and the cities of Albion and the Empire restored. He was corrupted by the Orden eventually."

"You make it sound like the Orden tricked him into joining." Abel said.

"That's precisely what they did. The Orden emerged from the underground in those years, claiming that they were anti-Nobility, and many humans and Boyare joined. Jichiyo and Botolf were two such Methuselah. In time, after the fall of the Nobility, they realized they were duped, and the Orden—well, let's just say they don't let their members go easily. Some committed suicide when they discovered the truth. Some, like Botolf, decide that the Orden is right, and continue serving wholeheartedly. And a rare few, like Jichiyo, are currently working for external agencies probing the Orden." Ion turned to D.

"To answer your question, Wenceslas Botolf drinks at this bar---" Ion tapped the keyboard again, and the picture on screen changed to display a ramshackle hut, with a wooden sign that declared "The Empresses' Head". A rough drawing of Seth was displayed above the sign. "The problem is, it is a bar that many Orden members go to as well and if you try anything on him, and he raises the alarm, you can kiss your quest goodbye."

Abel's eyes narrowed, and he smiled. "Then let him try something."

"You have an idea?" asked D.

Abel smiled wider.

"Three beers." The trio of travelers, dressed in worn robes, sat down at a table. They didn't notice all the conversations stopping and the men in the bar staring at them with hostile looks. Three foaming mugs of beer were brought towards them, and dumped none too gently on the table.

"Fifteen dinars." The coins were produced, and duly paid. The tallest traveler took a sip of the beer and spat it out at once.

"What's this? Horse piss?"

The shortest of the trio looked unemotionally at him and replied, "Negative, it is merely a poor specimen of beer." The bartender growled angrily at the insults, and most of the men who were seated at other tables got up angrily, cracking their knuckles.

"I'll handle it." An elegant man stood up from the only table which had shown no reaction, full of other quiet and elegant men. The other brawny men looked at the slim, wolfish man who stood up, and then at the travelers, laughed nastily, and then sat down at their tables. One shouted, "Go, Wolf! Show them what we think of insultin' travelers who think we ain't gud enough fer 'em!"

"Yes, I shall. Would you gentlemen like to step outside?" He flicked a glance at his table and smiled evilly. "No use destroying the tables here, yes? Not when I'll be feasting till late."

The trio rose as one and strode forward. The shortest traveler spoke, "Positive, we will engage in battle outside."

As the four people walked out of the bar, the bartender growled, "Damm, I'd like to see for once how he manages to fight such big groups of people without so much as a single scratch."

A delicate Asian man replied from the Rosen Kruez table, "It would be better if you didn't, Barkeep. You wouldn't live to tell the tale. He has forbidden people to watch his matches for a very specific reason." He drank his beer, and then muttered to himself, "Though those three men look more than his match."

"So, Terrans, now you meet your end." Wenceslas Botolf grinned at them, exposing sharp white canines.

"Terrans?" D asked in a soft, unmoved voice. "We're no Terrans." As the man gaped at them, the three men moved at lightning speed and made short work of their opponent. Abel caught his arms, which had lengthened to steel swords, in an unbreakable lock; Tres hit the Methuselah on his head while D drove a knee into his stomach. Botolf slumped to the floor unconscious, and Abel tied him up with rope. The trio stood looking down at the lifeless figure.

"Good job. Except, Tres, couldn't you sound a little more belligerent and a little less like a machine when trying to stir up conflict?" Abel complained.

"The meaning of your utterance is unclear. I am a machine, not a man. I have followed the plan we set out precisely, and completed the mission. I fail to see how your suggestion would have changed anything."

Abel sighed and said, "Never mind." He prodded the unconscious Methuselah with his toe repeatedly. There was no response. He reached into his cloak, pulled out a flagon of water and emptied it over Botolf. The man groaned and opened his eyes.

"Wenceslas Botolf, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, we hereby arrest you on the charges of conspiracy, terrorism, murder, abduction and crimes against humanity."

The Methuselah gaped at them. "The…Va—Va—Vatican!?"

"Positive." Tres answered.

"What? But we exterminated all of you thousands of years back."

Abel bent down, leaned close to him, and smiled. With widening eyes, the Methuselah realised who it was in front of him. Nanomachine "Crusnik 02" initiating at 40 capacity… Confirmed. Grey eyes turned vermillion and gleaming teeth sprouted from the gentle mouth right in front of the terrified Methuselah's face, and silver hair floated up in a billowing cloud. Crusnik bent forward and whispered beside the trembling Botolf's ear, "You didn't exterminate... me."

"P—please. Just let me go. I know who you are. You're Prince Abel Nightroad, aren't you? P—please, just let me go. I didn't want to… I didn't want to join the Orden. And now, I can't leave…" He sobbed hysterically, "Please, don't kill me!"

"Kill you...? I have no intention of killing you." Crusnik replied. "I just want to know something."

The Methuselah, with tears running down his face, croaked, "What?"

"Where is my dear brother? Where is Cain hiding?"

The Methuselah turned ghastly white. "I can't tell you… he'll kill me!"

D bent down beside the Methuselah in a movement worthy of an exquisite sword. "And I will kill you now if you don't tell us. I have no qualms about killing, unlike my client here."

The Methuselah looked at D and his face blanched further at the sight of the gorgeous countenance, "Very…very well… I'll tell you where he is…if you promise that he won't kill me."

"Fine." Abel's features slowly returned to normal, and the billowing crown of silver hair fell back onto his shoulders. "Where is Cain hiding?"

The Methuselah muttered under his breath.

"What did he say?" D asked Abel, whose face had turned livid with rage.

"Cain is hiding in the Empresses' Mausoleum."

"Ion, did Abel come this way?" The woman with black hair cropped short said bad-temperedly. "We were supposed to come down to see you together, but those three idiots went off without so much as a 'thanks for the free lodging'."

Ion raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, he did. I was wondering why they seemed so surprised to see me. I thought--"

"Because I told them your address, but not who lived there. I was planning to break it to them when we were walking there, but those… those… idiots just left! I'm going to kick the ass of that stupid Abel Nightroad and his idiotic notions of not getting others into danger when I next see him."

Ion hid a grin, "I could tell you who they went after for information, if you want."

"Tell me."

Ion told her.

Lady Astha's eyes gleamed. "Well, I'll catch up with you later then."

"Happy hunting, Astharothe."

The three men marched through the streets towards the nearest airport, though the order was now altered. Abel, with furious long strides, led the group, while D and Tres followed a few paces behind. None of them spoke, and the only sound that anyone could hear was the swishing of dark cloaks in the night. They were going to the ruins of the Empire, the long-forgotten tomb of Seth Nightroad, Empress of the New Breed.

They commandeered a craft—the fastest they could find— from the city ports, and Abel swiftly piloted the craft out of the landing space into the velvet night sky. An annoyed female voice cut in from behind them.

"You know, I figured that even if you were going to insult my hospitality, you would have just left without thanking me, but stealing my ship and kidnapping me and my daughter is really going too far."

The three men turned as one, to face Astha, who was leaning against the wall glaring at Abel. Aria was seated on the floor, dressed in a long-sleeve shirt and track pants, and regarding them with close-lipped amusement.

"Astha. Aria. This isn't your fight." Abel said, sounding tired. "It's not Ion's fight either, although he followed me to hunt for Cain after Esther's crowning. This was always and forever my fight."

Astha stalked up to him and hissed in his face, "No, you idiot. It has always been our fight, always been all of us against the Rosen Kruez. This isn't just a personal vendetta any longer. This is war, and one single person can't fight the entire Orden. If you say this isn't our fight, but yours, then is it his? Or his?" She pointed to Tres and D.

"That's different—they have nothing—"

"—to lose? Neither have we. We've lived for centuries upon centuries; we've seen the Rosen Kruez burn our million dreams and we rebuilt them in the ashes only to see them be burned down again." She stabbed a pointy finger into Abel's chest. "Remember how annoying I found you when we first met, and how I said I didn't need your help? I was wrong then, and you're wrong now."

Abel was silent for even longer, then he sighed. "Fine. Astha, you can come with us, but not Aria. She's…."

Aria strode forward, eyes unflinching, pulled her long sleeve away from the back of her left hand, and showed it to Abel. Abel's eyes widened in shock, and then he looked away in resignation, "Fine. You both can come."

"What did you show him?"

Aria looked up from her silent reverie at the back of the cabin, and stared at D, who was studying her quietly under his wide-brimmed hat. The others were arguing over the bearing they should head towards, and she moved towards them to evade him, but he shifted to block her way. His midnight dark eyes caught her honey-brown ones. She shook her head, smiling bitterly to herself.

"The mark of my sins." She edged past him again, and this time he didn't stop her.

The Empresses' Mausoleum was half-buried in sand, and the elaborate curlicues on the door had faded with time, but it was still firmly shut. Abel and Tres tried to pry the door open but to no avail. "You need authorization to get in." Abel sighed, "And seeing as I was with the Terrans when the war began, I don't have the access."

D moved forward, a living poem in black silk, and he looked up at the door. The blue stone that Ion made for him when he was a child glowed. The hinges creaked as the door opened.

The five people stared into the cavernous hall, which smelt fresh and clean.

"Odd. I'd have expected much more dust." Astha commented.

"Negative. If the site was unused, then it would be unusual. However, if the site was used, then it would be expected that the place has fresh air."

"Our information is accurate." D stated.

"But if they clean this passageway," Abel said slowly, "Do they also monitor it?"

The five people looked at each other and then, as one, started running full tilt into the mausoleum.

Isaak von Kampfer's eyes lit with a dangerous light. "Someone's entered the Tomb."

"Oh?" Dietrich asked. Leaning on his headrest, he lazily typed a few commands into his keyboard. A video popped up, showing five people running into the tomb. Dietrich sat up and stared at the display, "I'll say! It's Abel and Co." He chuckled.

"Idiot! Contact Cain now." Dietrich shrugged, and pressed a little button on the keyboard.

"Yes?" The voice, though tinny, was calm and unbothered. "What's the emergency?"

"M'lord, you must run!" Isaak said, "Abel and a few others are here to kill you!"

There was laughter on the other end. "That's not an emergency. It's entertainment. If you two want to, though, you can leave. But don't bother to come back." The line clicked off.

Dietrich stood up and started walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Isaak growled.

"Leaving, as he told us to."

"I'm not going. These people are far too dangerous. I'll—"

"—lay down your life for the person in that room who doesn't even consider them a threat? Isaak." Dietrich was scornful.

"Who else will defend him, Dietrich? We swore to lay down our lives—"

Dietrich caught one of Isaak's slim wrists and said with unexpected heat, "I'm not going to let you die defending an idiot who's more than capable of defending himself. He's the one staying when he should be running."

"I'm not leaving him defenseless!"

Dietrich's mouth tightened and he snapped his fingers once. An army of about a thousand Auto-Jaegers appeared.

"There. That should get rid of some of them. Cain should be able to handle the rest, right?"

"Dietrich—" He was cut off by Dietrich seizing his head and giving him a furious, passionate kiss.

"Isaak, come with me," Dietrich whispered in a hoarse voice, forehead to forehead with Isaak. "Please."

Isaak closed his eyes in pain, torn between his Master and his lover. Finally he nodded. Hand-in-hand, the two Methuselah ran out of the room.

Their path was blocked by about a thousand Auto-Jaegers. Abel cursed under his breath. As the hulking corpses advanced towards the five people, weapons appeared: Abel with his trusty Winchester, Tres with his giant M-13s, Astha with her green-rayed sword and D with his blue-steel sword. Only Aria stood there, doing nothing, her eyes closed.

"Switching from Observation Mode to Genocide Mode. Commencing battle." The guns spoke loudly in the room, and many of the Auto-Jaeger toppled down. The green-rayed sword emitted bursts of energy that demolished them in twos and threes, and D's sword spun and danced in the room, giving off flashes of blue light effortlessly, punctuated by the collapsing hulks bisected neatly. Despite the bloodshed, though, the creatures just kept coming in an endless stream. Still Aria stood there, eyes closed, frowning slightly. An Auto-Jaeger advanced towards her, and was about to chop her head off when D swept by, hooked his left arm around her waist as his right hand, holding the curved sword, cut the monster in half.

"Aria! Wake up! You have to get somewhere safe." D said, holding her close to him. There was a sudden, brilliant burst of light from her. Aria let out a long breath and her honey-brown eyes opened. She said, annoyed, "I wasn't asleep. I was trying to cut the puppet-master's strings." Then she frowned in confusion, and wiggled in D's grasp, "And you can let me go now, thank you." D released her and looked around. The Auto-Jaeger lay on the floor, putrefying.

"Glad you brought her along now, Tovarisch?" Astha asked. "Abel?" There was no reply. She looked around and saw a glimpse of silver hair disappearing into a far-off doorway. "Dammit! C'mon, let's go! " The four people ran after Abel, with Astha muttering, "Stupid—Abel—and his stupid—notions of—nobility!"

Nanomachine "Crusnik 02" initiating at 80 capacity… Confirmed. Crusnik glided into the room, and said, "Hello, Cain."

Cain turned around and smiled. "Abel." He said affably. "Like my decorations?" When Crusnik saw the two heads stuck on poles which flanked Cain, his eyes glowed redder. His black wings unfurled and the sharp teeth were bared in a snarl.

"You sick bastard!"

The two heads were that of Seth's and Lilith's.

"Yes, aren't I? I do so love talking to them, you know. Although they never seem to reply. But under the circumstances, it's probably understandable."

Crusnik's dark scythe appeared. He attacked Cain, aiming for the legs. Cain moved gracefully backwards, and the scythe passed barely a half of a hair's thickness away.

"Oh? Not aiming to kill me, brother?"

"No. I will not kill you, Cain. But I will defeat you."

Cain laughed. "Dear silly Abel, you still haven't learnt. The only way to defeat me…is to kill me." He grabbed Abel around the throat, and hissed as Abel choked. "Don't think that not killing will get you anywhere. It doesn't make you better. It doesn't make you stronger or smarter. Quite the reverse. Your stupid oath to Lilith has simply impeded you." Cain threw him against the wall with bone-jarring force. "And I…have no such reservations." He studied the Crusnik, who was beginning to stand up, and with a gentle flick of his hand, buried a short dagger in Crusnik's stomach. Crusnik gasped, his eyes opening wide and his black wings shriveling.

"Feel that, brother? That's poison to us Crusniks. The dagger has metal ions that will bind with our nanomachines and deactivate them one by one, slowly and painfully. Feel that, brother? That's death. But I'll make yours quick for you." His right arm turned into a long sword and he raised it above his head.

A barrage of bullets slammed into Cain's arm. "Keep your distance from Nightroad." Cain turned smilingly to Tres. The bullets didn't affect at all, and he just looked sardonically at the advancing Tres, who fired his twin guns steadily at him.

"And why should I listen to you?" He lashed out with his long legs, and Tres flew back and smashed against the doorway. Machine oil leaked from his neck joint. Cain looked at the three people still standing in the doorway.

"So who's next?" he sneered.

Astha was about to rush at him, but Aria's arm shot out and prevented her mother from moving. "I am," she said.

"Very well, give me your best shot, little girl." Cain stood with his hands behind his back, smiling serenely.

"I may be a little girl, but you are a lost soul," Aria whispered in a low and deep voice whose frequency resonated at some deep, undeniable level in Cain.

"What?"

"What's the point of your living?" Aria continued, "Why do you even bother anymore?"

Cain's eyes widened and Aria continued, "You're all alone in this world. No one loves you. No one cares about you. Why bother? You're like a fly in a spider web, so terrified to die, struggling uselessly against the inevitable."

Cain's mouth opened and he croaked. "Shut—shut up. You don't know a thing about what I am, or why I do what I do."

"Don't I?" Aria's voice was now bitter. "You're neither Terran nor Methuselah, and both species brand you a monster. I know how that feels, because I am a dhampir. But you—you were given so much more power than we were. So much more strength than us. And yet you rail against the world for giving you the short end of the stick. Well, we've gotten an even shorter one." Aria bit her lip, "I know how good it feels to pretend to not care at all about how others feel, how good the power feels when you kill mercilessly, when you finally feel in control. Pretending to be insane, to be a murderer, pretending that the fear of the others was something you sought, not something that was just a cause of who you were." She pulled down her sleeve and showed him the Rosen Kruez tattoo on her hand. "But we all know that that façade will crack one day and the shards will just hurt everyone else. It's not going to last, Cain. One day, your façade will crack."

Cain's eyes filled with tears, and he howled, "Shut up!" He rushed at her, but at that moment a short dagger sliced into his chest, thrown with deadly accuracy by Abel. Cain gasped in pain as the metal started to slowly poison him. And with a single, beautiful stroke, D cut Cain's head off neatly. The body toppled to the ground slowly, gracefully.

Abel, his head pressed against the wall, sighed shakily. "It is over."