Vashyron stayed true to his word, and took me on a job the very next day. As we made our way there he explained what we were going to be doing. Apparently, a group of lower level thugs who were holed up in an abandoned warehouse on level seven had been causing trouble to a small, neighbouring town. They were going to send in a hunter from Crank Town, which was close, but apparently he backed out when he heard about the fact that they were all armed, and they were holding a young girl hostage. That's when Vashyron was contacted instead, and that's why we were standing out in the cold waiting for Core Lift two to come back up for a good ten minutes.

The lift attendant was, at the time, watching us both a little suspiciously as if he didn't trust us. I'm not really surprised, considering the fact that we were both carrying guns, but surely hunters were now a regular occurrence, what with all of the thugs and monsters popping up everywhere. Not to mention the fact that the lower levels of Basel were home to a number of caves and old abandoned buildings that probably contained an array of treasures. From what I heard, hunters were always looking to make some quick, easy money.

That was no different for Vashyron. After all, this was his job. It was what payed for our house, our clothes, our food and everything else on top. But I knew other hunters. Vashyron wasn't like them. It was clear that he loved every second of his job, and he wasn't just in it for the money. He wanted to help people. I knew that because of the number of meaningless jobs he had taken. He could have been making a lot more, but whenever a child needed bringing home from wandering the not-too-safe back streets of Basel, or someone had lost something precious to them and couldn't go and retrieve it themselves, Vashyron was there to do it. I had seen him choose those kinds of jobs over more well-payed ones more than once. Other hunters would laugh at it and think him a coward, but in my eyes he was nothing short of a hero.

If in a few years time I'm even half the man that he is, then maybe, just maybe, I can forgive myself for what I've done.

When the lift finally arrived and the attendant stepped aside for us to enter, my hands were already numb from the cold. It was always like that on the lower levels. It was almost like the light from Chandelier kept us warm, and the levels below were left in the dark and the cold. If anything, Basel was a physical representation of the distance between rich and poor. The wealthier you were, the closer you got to living in Chandelier. Anything below level four was basically a dumping ground for the unwanted; those the Cardinals didn't want to think about; those they didn't want the rest of society to see. I know because I was there.

I used to be one of them.

"Are you okay there, sport?" Vashyron asked as the lift doors closed, blocking my view of the disapproving attendant who was still looking down his nose at us.

I leaned back against the railing in the middle of the lift where Vashyron was standing, rubbing my hands together in an attempt to conserve some heat and briefly glancing in his direction.

"Uh, yeah...I'm just a little cold."

It wasn't helping that the railing I was now holding onto felt like it was actually made of ice, and only one of my hands was being protected by a relatively thin, fingerless glove. I would have worn two, but using a gun while wearing gloves isn't recommended, so I settled for keeping one of my hands warm instead. If anything it looked like a slightly edgy fashion statement, and I kind of liked that. I like the idea that your clothing can be a reflection of your personality, but at the orphanage such things were often frowned upon. I remember being scolded regularly for 'forgetting'to wear a cross around my neck.

I've never believed in God.

"You'll be okay soon. Once you're moving around you won't even notice it."

I nodded in reply, removing my hands from the metal bar and cupping them together in front of my face, breathing into them. A small, white cloud rose from my lips and into the air, disappearing in a couple of seconds. It didn't do very much at all to warm my skin.

"I didn't think it was gonna be this cold." I said to Vashyron when I noticed him watching me in slight amusement. To tell the truth I was beginning to think this job was a bad idea. We hadn't even reached the warehouse yet and I was already unprepared. I knew it was going to be difficult to concentrate in this cold.

"Maybe we should've bought you a warmer coat."

I saw him eyeing my clothing with what looked like concern. I was wearing a jacket, but it wasn't exactly suited to this kind of weather, and I probably should have been wearing a scarf or something at least. But I wasn't.

He seemed to think about it for a while, before he reached over. I was sure he was going to ruffle my hair like usual and say something like 'be a man', but instead he pulled the hood of my jacket up over my head.

"At least keep your ears warm," he chuckled, zipping his own jacket up a little higher as I moved some of my hair out of my eyes. I was suddenly beginning to feel very jealous that he was wearing leather and I wasn't.

He patted me gently on the back as the lift doors slid open, and I followed him out to find that on this level, it was snowing. The snow wasn't very heavy, and the flakes were quite small, but it still prompted me to tuck my hands under my arms to keep them warm. I knew I had to be careful; if my fingers got too cold it would be difficult to use my gun, and that could be dangerous.

The attendant on this level was wearing the same uniform as the others higher up; only he was well prepared for this weather, and had a thick, woollen scarf around his neck and covering the lower half of his face. His hands were tucked into his pockets. Luckily, there was a small box off to one side of the lift doors, big enough for a person to fit inside, containing a chair and a desk with a radio and various other devices which I'm assuming were some sort of lift controls. The chair was covered with a fleece blanket, draped over the back messily as if he had recently discarded it in preparation for us arriving in the lift.

"May I see your pass?" He asked in monotone as we approached. Either he was incredibly bored of his job, or he didn't like the look of us. I'm voting for the latter.

Vashyron dug into one of his jean pockets and produced a small, white, plastic card. It was a special pass, or so I was told by Vashyron himself, that allowed him free access to any of the lifts at any time. Apparently each hunter was equipped with one as their job required a lot of travelling between levels. Vashyron told me that even when the lifts were closed to regular citizens this pass would allow him through. In a way, hunters were the closest thing Basel had to secret agents. There were the guards up in Chandelier, sure, but they were more suited to, well, guard duty. The hunters, especially the more experienced ones like Vashyron, were there to deal with the stuff nobody else wanted to.

The attendant glanced over the card as Vashyron held it up, before nodding his head a little.

"Go on."

He watched us with quiet suspicion as Vashyron returned the pass to his pocket and we continued on, before I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow as he returned to his little booth and his fleece blanket. I couldn't help feeling somewhat jealous.

As we made our way through the snow past Le Chit-Chat Noir, Vashyron produced a small slip of paper from what looked like a hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. I couldn't see what was written on the paper from where I was, but it seemed to be some sort of address.

"It's near Crank Town. You've probably never even heard of it, and it doesn't have a name, but there are a few families living there and one of them had their youngest daughter taken. They're the ones who contacted me. She's being held hostage in a warehouse nearby. Apparently the thugs want a ransom for her safe return."

There was some venom in his voice as he said those last words, and for the first time since we met I could tell that he was genuinely angry.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, wondering why I hadn't thought about this before. It didn't even occur to me that I didn't know what we would be doing when we got there. I guess I was just too excited about finally getting to see what it was like to be a hunter.

"I go in and try to talk them into releasing the girl. You wait outside. If they don't buy it, I'll give you a signal and that's when you come in. They'll realize that I have back-up and maybe it'll make them change their minds. If they still won't give her up, that's when we use force."

"So...we attack them?"

"No. I attack them and distract them from you. Your job is to get the girl to safety."

"Right. Got it."

"But if you need to fight then just remember what I've taught you so far. You'll be fine."

He placed his hand on my shoulder briefly, smiling.

"I trust you. In fact, I don't think I'd be able to do this without you. It's like we were meant to be a team."

"...Vashyron?"

"Yeah?"

"...Do you believe in fate?"

He removed his hand, watching me questioningly. It took him a while to answer, and a few times I'm sure he was about to speak, but then hesitated.

"Fate? Not really. Why?"

"No reason."

As we passed Crank Town the snow began to fall more heavily, but Vashyron continued to reassure me that we were close to the warehouse, and once or twice he even suggested that we stop and take a break, but I refused. I wanted this job to go smoothly. I wanted to prove that I could be useful to him, and he wouldn't regret allowing me to work with him. If we had to stop because of the fact that I wasn't wearing a coat, I would feel like I was just getting in the way.

He seemed to be becoming more and more persistent, however, and it got to a point where he stopped and turned me around.

"I really think we should pass through town. It'll be warmer in there. C'mon. I'll buy you a coat, or we can at least stop and get something hot to drink. I know you really wanna do this job, but if you get hypothermia then it will kinda ruin everything."

It seemed like he wasn't giving me a choice, as his hand was still on my arm from when he had pulled me around, and I thought that if I said no he might drag me into the town anyway.

"Vashyron, I'm fine. Can we just keep going? I...I wanna help that little girl. All of the time we're wasting here she's trapped with those people...and her family want her back. I can't imagine how they must feel."

His expression seemed to soften, and he loosened his grip on my sleeve, before letting go.

"Fine. Let's go."

I couldn't quite understand why, but he seemed nervous about something. Then, as we continued on, and the snow let up a little, I realized why.

I hadn't even thought that the route we were taking would lead us close to...that place.

But there it was.

Crank Seminary.

It looked exactly as I remembered it, only now it was a mess. Chunks of stone had dropped off the roof, and the statues outside the front doors were falling to pieces. What was once a beautiful building was now a wreck. I couldn't bring myself to look at it for more than a few seconds, though, and even Vashyron seemed to be avoiding it.

But forgetting about this place wasn't going to change anything. You're supposed to face your fears, or they'll torment you forever.

We grow by overcoming the obstacles God places in our path.

I stopped, turning to face the looming structure, and I heard Vashyron's footsteps come to a halt nearby.

Seeing this building for the first time after what happened, I had assumed it would be hard, but in a strange way it almost felt like a weight lifted from my shoulders. It was like I was acknowledging what I had done. That it was my fault.

It wasn't just a nightmare.

It was real.

The building was clearly abandoned now, and it was completely silent. If anything, in the snow, it looked almost serene. It was like nothing ever happened, and it had just become like this due to years of neglect.

Over time, that's all it would become. Neglect.

People would forget what happened here.

But I will never forget.

Is that my punishment?

My gaze was broken away from the derelict seminary as I felt an arm around my shoulders, and Vashyron was suddenly standing close beside me.

"Come on. Let's go."

We reached the warehouse in about fifteen minutes. The snow had died down to a few small flakes, but it was still freezing, and my jacket was already damp. The warehouse itself was large and ugly, like a lot of the structures on the lower levels, and looked like it hadn't been used in years. As we approached I saw Vashyron remove his gun from its holster, before he motioned for me to wait outside, disappearing through an empty doorway.

As soon as he was inside I stationed myself just next to the door, keeping my non-gloved hand over the pistol grip on my gun just in case I was called in. He had told me that he was going to give me a signal, but I wasn't exactly sure what I was looking for. Peeking around the door slowly and trying to keep out of sight, I saw Vashyron standing in front of a group of armed men wearing hoods and masks. There were five of them. It looked like they were just talking, but I could see that all of the men had their hands close to their weapons. This wasn't going to be easy.

It seemed as if none of them had noticed me, however, so I decided to quickly scan the room for signs of the young girl. I couldn't see her, so I deducted they were probably hiding her somewhere. That's when I noticed a small door at the back of the warehouse, probably leading to the break rooms where the staff would have been when this was a working factory building. If they were keeping her hidden somewhere, it was in there.

I quickly ducked behind the wall as one of them glanced in my direction, but there was no commotion from inside. They hadn't seen me. This time I decided to be more careful, and instead of leaning around the door frame I found a small crack in the wall. The stone was relatively loose, and it crumbled away easily when I dug at it with a piece of corrugated iron I discovered lying nearby, leaving me with a hole just large enough to look through.

However, this small victory was short lived; my heart literally froze in my chest as I felt a gloved hand suddenly clamped over my mouth tightly, and I was dragged away from the wall by someone clearly much larger than me.

All I could do was watch as the front of the building slowly got further away and I was pulled around the side. I would have fought back, were it not for the knife that was now pressed against my throat close enough for me to feel how cold the metal was, and I could do nothing, even as I heard gunshots from inside the warehouse.

I was thrown roughly through a dark doorway, and barely had time to put my hands out and stop myself from hitting the concrete face first, before there was a loud clang behind me, and what little light there was disappeared.