Blinding brightness. That was all Crimson could see from behind her eyelashes that were heavy with sleep. Through the thin membrane of her eyelids, she could see she was in a white room, with a fluorescent light shining down on her face. Even with her eyes closed, the light still hurt her eyes. How had she got here? Last thing she remembered was falling asleep the night before by the campfire. So why was she here?

Suddenly, she felt movement. Not around her, but inside.

Crimson ripped her eyelashes open. Her eyes flooded with the severe light, and immediately dots of colour flooded her vision. She could see a dark, rounded shape around the area of her abdomen.

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. After a moment, the dots that clouded her eyes slowly departed. That was when she realized that the dark outline was…

Her.

Her enlarged abdomen protruded out from her body. What was happening? There was no way that had occurred overnight!

Suddenly, a door she had not noticed opened, revealing a figure. A vampire mask covered its face. Draculoid.

"What the hell's going on?" Crimson demanded, trying to move, only realizing that she was firmly strapped to the bed.

The Drac slowly walked forward. Its white uniform was slightly too big, so Crimson could not see its form, nor could she tell whether it was male or female.

The Drac was now hovering over Crimson. She tried to remain calm, but she felt her hands grow clammy. Not only did she have no idea where she was, or what was going on, but this Drac was different than all the others. It was more casual, it didn't walk as stiff. Something was not right at all.

"What's going on?" Crimson commanded again, staring nervously up into the Draculoid's masked face. Although she couldn't see its facial emotions, she felt almost certain it was smirking down at her. She didn't even know Drac's had the mental capacity to smirk, what with their brains being barely anything but mush.

Suddenly, the mask shifted, and Crimson guessed that the Drac had opened its mouth.

"You've been on this hovercraft for eight and a half months," it said in a robotic voice that she was certain she had never heard before, yet seemed oddly familiar.

Eight and a half months? That explained her stomach. The baby would be due any day! Crimson breath turned rapid. She'd missed her entire pregnancy! And it had passed in the blink of an eye!

"You were killed in a blast and captured by this hovercraft. We have spent the last eight and a half months repairing your body, for it was badly damaged and required much surgery,"

Crimson's eyes absentmindedly traveled down to the large bump.

"The baby is still safe," the robotic voice that came from under the mask spoke again, "We were able to bring you back to life before it perished,"

Crimson breathed a sigh of relief. Then, another thought popped up in her brain.

"The others! Ghoul! Flame!" she found her voice close to breaking point.

"Are all alive. They were brought back as well, although …"

"Although?" she almost screeched, her mind whirling, searching for the 'although', whatever it was. The Drac's sneer seemed to widen under the mask.

"I think you would better understand if you saw it," the Draculoid pressed an unseen button, and the bed on which Crimson was laying began to rise from about the halfway point, until she was sitting up straight, her arms and legs still strapped to the thin, white mattress.

From behind her, the Draculoid began to push the bed out of the open door out into a hallway that was equally pristine white and harshly lit.

As the Drac pushed her along the hallways, they passed many other masked people along the way, and now Crimson was certain the one pushing her was different from the rest of the mindless zombies.

After a few moments of walking in silence, the Drac stopped in front of a ward. Her bed was turned around so it was facing the opposite direction. Thoughts flew through her mind. Who was behind the door? And what was wrong with them? Her heart thumped against her chest like a hummingbird inside a cage.

There was a faint click as the door opened, and she was wheeled backwards through the door into a room that was identical to the one she had woken up in.

The Drac slowly turned her around, as though to taunt her, make her wonder who was on the bed, and what was wrong with them. Crimson held her breath as the bed slowly came to face the hospital bed that lay in the center of the room.

Synthetic Flame lay on the white bed, still and unmoving, although there was the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was naked, but Crimson was not embarrassed. She was too worried to be.

Staring at Flame in profile, she could see nothing wrong, but she felt her bed being slowly pushed around, turning, moving to the other side of the hospital bed where Flame lay.

Crimson let out a strangled cry as she viewed the other side of Flame's body. It was covered in scars from head to toe. They were deep and twisted, like the trunk of a tree.

And then Crimson saw her face. There was a deep scar that ran jagged from her purple hairline straight through her closed eye down to her chin. A sliced through her face that Crimson knew would stay with her until the day she died.

She couldn't speak. It was as though someone had cut off her vocal chords. All she could do was stare in despair at her best friend, unconscious and alone on the bed.

Suddenly, she seemed to find her voice. Crimson twisted her neck so that she was could see the Drac.

"Who are you," she whispered, her voice heavy with desolation, "And what is wrong with you? Why didn't you just leave us to die?"

"Oh, Korse has use for you yet," the robotic voice said mockingly, "And as for who I am…"

The Drac brought its hand up to the mask that enclosed its face. Grasping the top, it slowly removed the synthetic face. The first thing Crimson saw were the jet black eyes, endless pits of evil, tunnels to hell itself.

Beautiful Disaster.