"…this is the latest in a series of horrifying attacks. Flying creatures, branded by many as 'angels', have been seen in remote areas of Turkey and now Western Europe, leaving a trail of death and devastation in their wake.

The question everyone is now asking: are the End Times really upon us?"

"What in the heck are you watching?"

"CNN."

"…our eschatology speaks of Satan and his angels being hurled down to the earth. I think what we are seeing with these attacks is the first of nine stages of the End Times, although we prefer not to use such an overdramatic term…"

Cervenka leant on the guy's chair a moment, listening, and then he shook his head.

"What sensationalist drivel."

"Is not."

"Whatever," he growled.

"Is not."

He just rolled his eyes.

"Never mind. Now, turn that dammed thing off and get back to work, will you?" He took a sip of his drink, and then spat it back up in distaste. "And when was the last time you cleaned out the coffee machine?"

A gust of cold air filled the lobby. They both looked up, and saw a patrol car parked outside. A man and a woman were being brought in, and they didn't look too happy.

"The coffee machine can wait; hot babe at 12 o' clock."

"How can you tell she's your type?"

"She's breathing, ain't she?"

Cervenka sighed, took another sip of his coffee, and then decided that it was definitely not worth it and poured the rest into a nearby plant pot. He hated these American interns. They were always the same. For the first few days, they'd follow their superiors around like an obedient dog, filing papers and chauffeuring coffee like it was their God-given duty. After about a week, however, the cracks would start appearing. A few missed reports here and there, a few late mornings, and within a month they were to be found, feet up, ears closed, often absorbed in the television or flinging projectile rubber bands across the office.

A select few were also complete pricks when it came to women.

Eyebrows raised, he watched his intern jump up, swing his legs across the counter and lean forwards, grinning like an idiot.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Toby. What're you in for?"

"Triple homicide," she said, without breaking her stride.

"Well, maybe I can get your sentence reduced?" He pushed himself off the counter, and stood in front of her, blocking the way. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

She stopped, and gave him a smile.

"I'm not interested. And if you don't stop looking at my cleavage, I am going to completely devastate your chances of ever bringing children into this world."

His face fell. Cervenka elbowed him in the gut as the two detainees were led past, and started laughing like crazy.

"I guess she's not your type then." He pressed his empty coffee mug into the guy's limply outstretched hand. "Do me a favour. Fix the coffee machine, will you? Thanks."

XXX

"I am bored. I am a tool. I am a bored tool. I hate my job. I hate my boss. I hate you. I couldn't give a damn whether you really did kill anybody; I just want to go outside and have my smoke."

Glasses perched upon his nose, with a shadow of stubble along his jaw, their arresting officer was hardly being subtle. And as his pen hovered expectantly above a pile of forms, Lara could not help but imagine such dialogue for the guy; his true feelings towards his duty were written all over his face, not to mention the huge bulge in his pocket where his cigarettes must be.

"Name?"

"Hmm?"

She paused, blinking. This guy didn't recognize her?

Kurtis spoke up: "She's the friggin' Queen of Sheba." The guy looked up from his papers, one eyebrow raised, to where Kurtis was stood, his arms leant back against the desk as though he owned the place (despite the fact that his wrists were still handcuffed together in front of him).

"Look, does it really matter? This whole thing is a joke anyways."

A laugh.

"Yeah, right. Nice try. You don't need to give me your names, but things would run a lot more smoothly if you did. I'd have much less paperwork to do for a start."

Kurtis gave a wicked smirk.

"Well, we'd hate to deprive you of that pleasure, wouldn't we?" He shook his head. "We're nobody. You can leave the names part blank."

The guy seethed, pushed the form out of the way, and called over another officer. Then he recited a speech about their rights, the confiscation of their effects, and left them standing there, comatose with boredom, as the new guy began to essentially repeat what they had just been told, albeit in an excruciatingly more pedantic tone of voice (if that was possible).

Kurtis, for his part, was patient for once. It was Lara who snapped this time around: "How long is this going to take?" she asked, scowling, "I have some rather pressing business to attend to if you don't mind."

The new guy shrugged.

"Longer than usual. As you can see, we're a little busy around here."

She sighed, and glanced around, distracted. He was certainly right: the tiny station was heavily undermanned, and with the media frenzy that had built around the Strahov case, the police force was being stretched to its limits. Add to that the sudden, inexplicable Nephilim attacks, and the place was in complete chaos.

Their arresting officer returned, and dropped a stack of papers onto the desk.

"You know that prisoner they brought in earlier? From the Strahov? Well, these are the forms you've got to fill in for him."

"What?"

The guy abandoned Lara and Kurtis' papers for a second, and began rummaging through this fresh batch.

"Oh, please… what is this? Medical forms…? Mental illness wavers…?"

"Hey, the guy is a nut job, go figure."

Lara couldn't hold her tongue any longer, and once their arresting officer had left she said: "You took a prisoner from the Strahov?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, but didn't look up from his paperwork. "I wouldn't mind if it was just some old guard who fell asleep at his post, but he's a total nutcase. They found him in some kind of mental asylum, down in the lower levels."

She felt Kurtis tense beside her, but he did not speak, and she got the feeling that she should not pursue the subject further.

Presently, the guy pushed away any further forms and brought over their effects, then began to rummage through Lara's backpack, much to her annoyance.

He found a number of books.

"Taken from the Strahov Archives, I believe…hmm… is the ink running a little on this one?"

"Probably," said Lara, glancing away a little with what might have been shame, "It did become submerged in a lake at one point."

"Excuse me?" He shook his head. "No, actually, I don't think I want to know."

Something caught Lara's eye as he moved onto her guns: there was a set of keys sitting on the far end of the counter, just beside a stack of forms. She kicked Kurtis in the leg and directed his attention to this, but nothing could be done at the moment: they were right under the officer's nose.

"…one book, filled with archaeological notes. Looks to be some kind of field journal…" Lara froze. If he flicked to the back and saw the Nephilim sketches, they were going to be dragged into a lot more trouble. Thankfully though, he put the book down and pulled out something else instead: a handful of coins, followed by a few notes and some other harmless paraphernalia.

He then put the backpack and its contents to the side, and picked up the Chirugai, studying it with a mixture of horror and confusion. The blades suddenly snapped out, and he dropped it with a gasp.

Kurtis suppressed a smirk. Lara fought the urge to laugh, despite herself.

"One glaive, perhaps occultist in origin." He picked up the gun next. "Modified revolver. Of inferior design." Kurtis seethed. "It looks like there's a name scratched on here… A-L-I-C-E…'Alice'?" He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh please," said Kurtis, "Like you've never named your gun before."

Lara spoke up, slightly bristled: "Who's Alice?"

"Relax. I named it after the band."

"This appears to be a license for the gun." The guy pulled a rather dog-eared card out of Kurtis' wallet, and inspected it closely. "Genuine, though badly worn."

There was a pause, as everything was noted down. Then he looked up, sighing in that really patronising way, and said: "And if you'd like to come along with me…"

A second later, Kurtis' Chirugai had lifted off the counter behind him, whirring menacingly close to his jugular vein.

"Put that down," Lara hissed.

Kurtis smirked.

The guy felt a breeze at his neck, and promptly turned around. The Chirugai swung lazily in the air, so that it was hovering just behind his head.

He turned and looked at the two. Lara could barely conceal her laughter.

"What?" he cried, "What is so funny?"

Lara sniggered, as the Chirugai started doing loops around the guy's head.

"It's nothing," she said, "I just remembered an amusing anecdote I heard in the newspaper." The Chirugai did one last circuit, and then clattered back onto the counter. The guy whirled around to look at it, and Kurtis took the opportunity to snatch the keys off the counter and stash them in his pocket.

Lara put on her best smile, as the guy turned around again with an accusatory stare.

"Now, about that cell?"

XXX

The keys were useless in the cell lock – Kurtis had checked innumerable times to make sure of that – but since they had taken them from someone in charge of their effects, it was a good bet they would open the evidence room, and help them get back their weapons when the time was right.

For now though, they had to find some way to get out of this mess.

"I have a feeling the British tabloids are going to have a field day once they find out about this."

Kurtis stopped, laughed a little, and then turned his head with a grin: "So what else is new?"

They had been locked in this tiny cell for fifteen minutes now, and he had spent the last ten obsessively checking for any defects in the bars. She wasn't sure why: he could have just blasted them down with his powers anyways, but in the end she sat back, smiling in amusement, and chalked the whole spectacle down to a case of simple male bravado. Even helpless as he was, he still wanted to come across as the rebel.

Eventually he gave up, and slumped back onto the bench beside her, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. There was a silence for a while.

The thought of his psychic powers gave her an idea: "Can't you-?"

"Use my farsee?" He shook his head. "Not a chance. There's too many people around, and if I'm disturbed with my mind halfway down the corridor, it tends to hurt like hell when it gets slammed back into my head." He looked up. "Never mind. I can do it later: the bitch is back."

"What?"

He shook his head, and walked over to the lean against the bars. She couldn't see who he was talking to at first, but then he stepped back a little, and gave a derisive smile.

"Still working the night shift, huh?"

Lacina smiled.

"Hello to you too." Then he noticed Lara rising from her seat in the corner of the cell, and he frowned. "Why is she in here with you?"

"I don't know," Kurtis said, smiling, "Perhaps you'd like to ask your guy about it." He gestured down the hall with an arrogant flick of his wrist.

Lacina stood a moment, scowling, and then he left to discipline his staff. The sound of yelling could soon be heard drifting down the corridor.

"Kurtis?"

"Yeah?"

Lara came to stand by him, her arms folded.

"Why are you antagonizing him?"

Kurtis shrugged, and turned to lean on the bars again, his head bowed a little as he laughed.

"'Cause it's fun." She raised an eyebrow. "Besides, it's not my fault the guy's an arrogant jerk."

"And your testosterone-laden dialogue will help us, how?" He sighed, but didn't answer. "Just take this all a little more seriously, please. I've been branded as the Monstrum and chased halfway across Europe. So what's your excuse?"

He pushed himself off the bars.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you were about ready to rip someone's head off back there. Back at the Strahov, I mean. Why do you hate the police so much?"

"Oh, that." He shifted a little. "Well, I had a few run-ins with them in the past." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Plus, I kinda dated a cop a few years back."

"You did?" She was surprised.

"Yeah, as you can tell it didn't end well. Or begin well. Or… well, you kinda get the picture."

She was silent for a moment, mulling this over. But before she could ask any further questions, Lacina had returned, and he did not look to be in the mood for any more discussions: "Once I'm finished with this 'angel' business," he hissed, "I'll be back to deal with you, and I promise you, by tomorrow morning your names will be plastered all over the newspapers. There's no way they're not going to convict you."

"And with what proof?"

"Proof?" He laughed a little. "You were already accused of being the Monstrum before. As far as the public is concerned, that's all the proof they'll need."

Kurtis immediately bit back a retort, but Lara just sat there, silent, her head bowed. So he had recognized her. She knew that the guy was right, and that, barring a miracle, there was no way in hell they were going to get out of this.

Lacina turned to go, but then he stopped, cocking his head to the side a little, and muttered: "What is that?"

Lara looked up, confused. She was just about to say something when she registered the noise too. It was a strange whirring sound, like someone had turned on an extractor fan.

Kurtis, who had been standing in front of Lacina, turned around, gestured Lara to slide out of the way and climbed up onto the bench. The barred window above him afforded a view of the industrial landscape of this part of the city, but not a lot else.

He must have seen something, however, because he suddenly turned, his eyes blazing, and said: "Get down."

She stood up.

"What is it?"

He shook his head.

"JUST GET DOWN!"

And he grabbed her arm, took one last look out of the window and half pulled, half pushed her under the bench.

Silence reigned for a moment, and then the side of their cell exploded.

XXX

Yes, yes, I know. Nine months •shifty eyes• It's an awfully long time to wait for an update, and I'll be pleasantly surprised if people still remember this fic, but… Chalk it up to a lack of inspiration, lack of time and lack of expertise. I guess this was just one of those extremely annoying and awkward chapters that has some pretty pivotal plot points to get across. And I still don't know if it makes sense or not. But I got it done in the end, and I promise it won't take as long for me to update next time. I'm really looking forward to writing the later chapters of this fic, since I have a few neat tricks up my sleeve. Ah yes, and to all those patiently •achem• awaiting the rest of Karma, it is forthcoming too, I promise.

Oh, and thanks muchly to Rolemodel and Acid for their help when I was pulling my hair out with this •huggles•