A distant sound echoed through a haze of pain to Abel. He shifted. His legs protested with the movement, a dull ache had settled in them. There was no telling how long he had been in this position.

The warm scent of food struck Abel.

His eyes shot open. His mouth watered on reflex to the fresh scent of food. "We're so thirsty," 02 hissed through Abel's mind. It was food, not the blood of Methuselah. Abel took a deep breath. He shifted to see who had entered Lilith's tomb.

A priest stood several feet from Abel. He held a basic meal in one hand, a mask and a change of clothes in the other. "His Holiness, Pope Gregory, has need of your service."

The priest edged forward and placed the plate the edge of the dais. The stiffness of his motion, the way his eyes flickered over Abel, radiated fear. He set a letter beside the food as well as the mask.

"Eat, read the letter, change; then meet me just outside the tomb." He turned, bowed to Lilith's pod; then, left the tomb without another word.

A small breath tumbled from Abel's lips. He lifted the letter. In the dim light the priest had left, Abel could see his orders. He was to wear a change in clothing on this mission and wear the mask to hide his features so none would recognize him as the dead emperor.

Abel downed the meager meal and slipped off his coat. The only clothing items were a cloak which would hide his silvery hair and the mask. The mask covered his entire face outside his mouth and chin. As the letter had explained, it was so he wouldn't have to remove the mask to eat. The eye holes of the mask were covered in tented glass so none could see Abel's eyes.

The last part of letter which was towards what Abel needed to wear, told him to wear Lilith's cross. Abel set down the mask and touched his love's cross. His long fingers slid down the metal. It would always be Lilith's.

Abel put on the layered cloak. The hood of the cloak latched onto part of the mask without being uncomfortable. It was so the hood wouldn't fall off and reveal to those around him Abel had silvery hair and looked to be twenty. His fingers lingered on Lilith's cross before he put it on. The effect would have still made him a daunting, faceless figure.

All too soon, Abel was led out of the catacombs.

A soft breeze pulled at Abel's cloak. The light of the sun poured down on him until his eyes ached despite the tent of the glass on the mask. It didn't help. While he had fought in the war during the day, it seemed being away from the sun for so long caused no ends of pains to his eyes. This and the sun had annoyed him since he return to Earth years ago.

Seth had told him it had to do with being a crusnik. They could be out in the sun as long as their nano-machines remained on low activation levels. The moment they activated the nano-machines then sun would burn them like any other from the returners.

An airship was docked close to the Vatican. From what Abel had read in the letter, Pope Gregory was traveling to visit the troops who were returning from the front. There hadn't been much more on this outside of the fact Abel was joining the Inquisition as a guard for his Holiness.

A few terran nuns shifted not far from Abel. Hushed whispers tickled his ears. Despite distance he could still make out every word they whispered as if he had been in their small circle.

"Who's the masked man?" one of them whispered. Abel could feel her eyes on him.

"Not sure, all I know is he's a personal guard for his Holiness."

"Him? But how can the Inquisition even tell what he looks like, let alone if he's even human."

"I don't know. Those layers worry me as well," the first replied. "He could easily be one of them."

Abel shifted, turning a little to attempt blocking what they were saying. This did nothing. He could still hear their voices.

"What if he attacks his Holiness?" fretted the second nun.

"The Inquisition has killed several vampires," the first assured. "We'll be perfectly safe."

"But one vampire is worth ten of our soldiers. And without Saint Sahl…"

The name. Abel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It tore into him. The sound of the terran girl just bluntly stating his beloved's name. Perhaps he shouldn't be shocked over this matter. Lilith had been loved by the terran. She was sainted, their protector against the empire.

Against him.

Abel felt the air ease from his lungs. His shoulders relaxed.

There wouldn't be any getting used to hearing her name spoken while outside of her tomb. Still, he couldn't keep reacting as if someone had stabbed him in the heart with each time Lilith's name was uttered.

Sharp thurst cut through the words of the two nuns and even through his thoughts on his lost beloved. Abel took a deep breath. There was no source of blood here. 02 and Abel both needed to get used to this being their new reality.

02 hissed in Abel's mind. They weren't very happy with this. "There was plenty of blood in the empire. You're a foolish coward. We need blood," 02 would have been shouting if they could and Abel knew this. Yet, a mind had no sense of volume or tone. 02 continued to rant about blood, the need for it and how it would only grow. They slung insults at Abel in their tirade.

Abel kept his eyes on the airship. It was easy enough to ignore 02. They hadn't been happy since he left the empire. Either was ranting about 01 being foolish for killing 04's host or over Abel's own foolishness in coming to the Vatican.

The pain was greater than any insult 02 could fling at Abel. His beloved was gone and there was no going back. Now, all that remained was a dream of peace. To achieve this, Abel would remain among the terran. He would serve them as a slave. They in turn would be forced to keep the peace with the empire.

A soft sound greeted Abel's ears. He straightened. It was the sound of cheers and joyful tears. This must have meant the pope was coming. Abel felt himself smile at the sounds of the people greeting their pope.

Gregory had come a long way from the boy who had be thrust in as a leader. The cardinals wouldn't be able to easily manipulate him now. Or so Abel assumed. His gaze shifted to towards the sound. Sure enough a few horse drawn carriages pulled up.

"Come on, monster," the priest who had fetched Abel stated. "We have work to do." He started towards the airship.

Abel followed. A small breath escaped him.

Monster.

It was a good way to describe him. After all Abel had done to the world and its people, he really was a monster. Perhaps worse than a mere monster. He had killed millions in the span of a week. Destroyed cities and lives all in the name of vengeance and protecting his people.

Had any of it ever protected his people? Was there ever anyone he had protected at all? War wasn't protection. It was death. Destruction.

"Hold a moment."

Abel paused, not certain someone was speaking to him.

"The Pope would like a word with his agent."

The priest scowled. "Surely not," he argued.

The monk's eyes narrowed under his helm. "His Holiness insists." The brother turned and gestured for Abel to follow him.

Gregory had just exited his carriage and stood in the shadow cast by it. "Ah, there you are." The Pope turned to Abel and gave him a small smile. "Given the fact we shouldn't just call you 'Nightroad' all the time, I am going to give you a codename."

Abel bowed his head, but didn't speak. He went to the ground and bowed lower. Just bowing his head wasn't a display of submission. This was.

Abel had to swallow back the remnants of his pride as he knelt before a terran.

"I was thinking Angel would do nicely."

"Angel?" Abel bit back the urge to scowl. It was a terrible codename. He forced himself not to voice this.

The pope looked at him as if Gregory was expecting Abel to argue. A small breath escaped the other man after a moment. "It will help dispel rumors you might be a vampire."

"All right." Abel couldn't say more without coming off odd to the man. He wasn't Gregory's equal, he wasn't an emperor, and he most certainly shouldn't view the Pope as the boy he had mentored the two years before the war had started. All Abel was, was the slave bound to the Pope. Not a friend. Not an enemy. He was nothing. The "monster" bound to the Vatican.

"You needn't bow to me, Angel," Gregory stated.

Abel didn't straighten.

A breath escaped Gregory. "Here." A papers rustled in the slight breeze. "This contains a list of those you need to avoid on the trip. If they recognize your voice or you remove your mask for any reason, they will know who you really are."

"Understand." Abel took the documents.

Silence fell between them. Abel dared not look up lest he appear anything but the slave he was. Gregory didn't say more as if he wanted Abel to speak or do something, anything.

Then, the silence was broken. "Your Holiness, we're ready to depart when you are."

"Of course." Gregory turned and started towards the airship. "Come, Angel."

Abel stood and fell in far behind the Pope. He was to be the Pope's guard. The list of names would be easy enough to avoid. There wouldn't be a need to speak. Or so Abel hoped. He didn't want to talk with anyone.

The day passed with Abel staying close to the Pope. Soon Gregory retired to his quarters. Food arrived for him. The scent of lingered in the air.

Abel stomach churned, but not with hunger. Thrust clawed at his throat and body. 02 hissed the need for blood over and over again until it rang in Abel's mind. He forced back the voice so it was an annoying buzz just like the thrust. The scent of food only made the need for it worse.

"Go get something to eat," one of the Inquisition ordered him. "Come straight back here once you're done." A note of disgust lingered in the man's voices.

Anger pricked through numb pain of lose. He dared address Abel in such away. Abel bit his lip hard until he tasted his own blood. He wasn't an emperor. He was a slave. The way people spoke to Abel know would be like he was an animal.

Abel took a deep breath and moved off.

"Make it quick!" the call chased Abel through the hall.

The dining hall was almost empty outside of a cluster of inquisition members. They cast him a wary look before huddling closer together.

"Is that?" One started to ask.

"Yeah, that's him."

"How could the pope trust him?"

"I don't know, but I certainly don't."

Abel ignored the group and moved to get something to eat before he had to return to duty.

The chef's hands shook as he passed Abel a plate of food. The moment the plate was in Abel's hands the man couldn't get away fast enough.

It was clear no one here trusted Abel. Most even feared him. Yet, none of them should have known he was a crusnik let alone a methuselah. They should have just seen a masked man. Nothing more or less.

Terrans. There was honestly no way to figure them out. They were different from the people Abel had known so well. His friends. His family. All those he had left back in the empire.

None of them had feared him. Not for countless centuries. If ever.

Abel shoved the thought from his mind and moved to a spot as from the Inquisition group as he could get without leaving the room.

The food was cold. This much was clear by the plate alone. Not that it mattered. Food was food.

Abel took a bite.

Overpowering flavors washed over his tongue. He gagged and forced himself to swallow. It tasted as if someone had drowned the food in garlic.

"Don't waste food," Alexander's words rang in Abel's ears. One of his closest friends who had grown up with little eat. "You don't know when the next time is you can eat." He had spoken those words during the famine right after the Civil War when they had still been on Mars.

Abel closed his eyes letting images of the moment wash over him.

He looked up from the meager meal Abel had taken. It was a half serving for half a ticket. "I doubt a half serving is a waste of food, Barvon."

Alexander huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Not what I meant. You only had a half a ticket. You should eat your serving and keep track of those tickets."

The tickets had been currency for food during the famine. It had let them stretch what little food they had left until they managed to return to Earth.

"Trust me when I saw wasting food or not taking your right proportion never ends well." Alexander leaned in, eyes serious. "Even if the food is spoiled, if it's all you have, eat it."

Abel straightened. "Nothing would be spoiled here," he pointed out.

"True, but just saying if the last food you have is spoiled and you've not eaten in days. It is better to eat moldy food than die of starvation."

"Perhaps."

"No perhaps about it! Now," Alexander smirked, "you had best remember this food shortage and always eat the food your given."

Abel cocked an eyebrow.

Alexander gave a nervous laugh.

Abel felt himself smile at the memory. Yes, he would never waste food, no matter how nasty it tasted.

Abel forced down another bite and another. His eyes watered. It was like trying to eat a raw garlic clove whole. Everything on the plate was drenched in it.

Never waste food.

Abel managed to finish the plate. The taste of garlic lingered in his mouth, overpowering everything else.

Never waste food.

Perhaps, pieces of his friends could still be with Abel no matter the miles between them. The miles behind the enemy lines Abel was at. Yes, he would keep their words and ideals alive for as long as he lived. Especially given he would never again see any of them.

x – Solomon – x

Tap, tap-tap.

Water dripped from a pipe onto the stone floor. He was well under the empire, in the crisscrossing maze of caves which hid the cities which had been built beanth the Earth.

"It's just this way." A woman led Solomon and a few others deeper into the passages than they had ever been before. Her skin was rich and dark, eyes just as dark. This was Thema, Barack's wife and one of the lead scientists of the empire. "We were preparing to dig further into the Darkland when we came across this."

She led Solomon and Barack into a space which had been opened up. On the far side where doors made of metal, rusted and too old to have been placed there by any from the empire. A familiar symbol was emblazoned on the door. A symbol none within the empire would never again us.

It was the mark of the United Nations, the world power when all of them had been sent to Mars. The very government who had sent them to being with. The ones who had forced many to become injected with the Bacillus nano-machines and then left them rot on Mars.

"I wasn't sure what to make of it." Thema set down her light. "There shouldn't have been a base anywhere near the empire underground or otherwise."

Solomon moved up to the door. His hand moved over the metal. Snake like trails of dust and grit was cleared where his fingers touched.

"Have either of you ever heard about a base being here?"

"No," Barack replied to his wife. "But this doesn't even look like a base. More like a bunker."

Solomon cleared away some more grit to reveal writing on the door. It was a number, nothing more. "We're at the very edge of the desolate area," the words were muttered to himself.

"Are you saying this was built during Armageddon."

"It is logical."

"Perhaps," Thema agreed. "Do you think you can open it? You two are the highest-ranking officers we have left from the time of the UN."

"Our clearance was higher when we left Earth than it would have been if we stayed," Barack agreed.

Solomon moved to the panel which had been unearthed to the right of the door. He tapped it. Nothing happened.

"There's no power," he stated. "Thema."

She moved over to him and passed him a case she had been carrying. Solomon took it from her. He opened it and passed her a few of the cables.

Thema moved to the other side of the door from Solomon. Solomon pried a panel off his side of the door. He hooked up the power source to it. The power source wasn't as powerful as the ones which had existed back before they had left for Mars. It had been created after their return to Earth. But it would have to do for now.

Lights flickered on, dim, as they surrounded the door. It showed power had been restored to the door. Solomon stood and dusted off his clothes.

Sure enough power had been restored to the panel. "Barack, you're more likely to still be in the UN systems." Solomon stepped aside for the taller man.

Barack nodded and stepped up to panel. He placed his hand on the scanner and typed in his code with his free hand.

"Recognized, Officer Barack. Scanning." The system paused. "Access denied."

Barack scowled and stepped back. "It seems I don't have the clearance."

"Which means you won't either," Thema frowned. "I wonder what was so important they hid away from even those on the Mars Project."

Solomon stepped up to the panel. He didn't attempt his credentials. Instead, he popped the panel from the wall.

"Is that wise, Admiral?" Barack glanced around the small space.

"The generator wouldn't be tried into the defenses here. If there is any power left here, it would be tied into whatever is beyond the door."

"True," Thema agreed. "The defenses were always on the same grid as the doors were in every base I worked."

Solomon cut and stripped wires. A few times he was zapped, but the bacillus healed him faster than the burns could happen. The last twist of a wire and the doors hissed open.

Stale air flew into their room.

Barack coughed. "At least I don't smell any decay," he muttered. "I've had enough of that scent to last several life times."

Thema let out a small breath. "As have I and I've only seen the battle fields back on Mars. She straightened. "The door should remain open if I disconnect the power."

"Do it. We can't waste what we have." Solomon moved towards the door, taking out a light as he did so.

Thema turned off the power source. The lights flickered out. The doors remained open.

Solomon took the lead as he stepped into the room.

"Careful," Thema whispered, "we don't know what the UN stored here."

She and Barack followed Solomon into the space. Their own lights made a little headway into the space as Solomon's did.

"What is this place?" Barack's question echoed a little.

Dust rose around Solomon's boots as he headed further into the space.

"Solomon," Barack warned.

Solomon's light fell over a device. He frowned and moved over to it.

"Honestly," Barack muttered.

Solomon knelt down and dusted off the device. Sure enough it mimicked the ones he had seen on the Ark. Just less advanced than the ones he, Seth, and Thema had created.

"It's a cryo capsule," Solomon informed them.

"It can't be." Thema moved over to him. "The UN had only just started designs for these. They shouldn't have completed them before Armageddon started."

"I don't think they did," Barack voice echoed from further away.

Solomon looked towards the man. He was standing further in. The capsule he stood before wasn't on the floor, rather it hung.

"Take a look at this."

Solomon rose and moved over to Barack. He could hear Thema only steps behind him.

A small gasp came from Thema. The light had fallen over the frost that Barack had cleared from the pod. It had failed and the person within had died, skin shriveled and preserved from the cold.

"W-who was it?" she breathed the question.

Solomon moved further into the space. Most of the pods were the same, but there were higher up than the one Barack and Thema were at.

His mucles bunched. He leapt into the air, higher than any terran could ever achieve. His hair whipped against his face. Then, his boots clicked as he landed on the beam high above the others.

"Are you insane?!" Barack called.

Solomon ignored him and checked the readings on the beam next to him. These were all dead as well, if the computer had anything to read. Solomon backed up a pace. There was a light high above him.

"A few appear to be working above!" he called down. "Thema, see if you can find what's powering them."

"R-right." She raced off.

Solomon moved to the ones before him. As with the ones lower, the people inside were dead.

A final attempt to live through Armageddon which had failed. These people, if they had just made it further, they would have lived. Though, this did leave a question on how many of these bunkers were hidden under the rest of the world, just waiting to be uncovered.

"Solomon, you need to see this."

Solomon leapt down and moved over to where Thema stood before a powered computer. He frowned. "It shouldn't have power."

"No, it should." She pointed to the readings. "All of the pods should as well. There is enough power here to keep all thousand people who took shelter here alive for another thousand years."

Solomon frowned and eyed the readings. She was right. "May I?" He gestured to the computer.

Thema stepped aside and nodded.

Solomon started to type as he searched through the system for who was here to begin with. At last he came across the list of names and positions within the UN. He frowned. "All those who are dead were listed as being of little importance to the UN and the survival of Earth," he informed them.

"Really?" Thema frowned.

"Damned UN," Barack muttered.

The readings on the pods showed they were slowly kill off those who weren't important as the first century progressed until only those who were, and their families, remained. Solomon felt his lips twitch in as close to a scowl as he had ever gotten.

Those who were left alive were UN representatives and higher ups within the military. There were a few others who marked as important by the representatives as well. There wasn't anything in the system which would kill off any more of the people here.

"All who are left are military personal and UN representatives." Solomon paused, his eyes over three familiar names on the list.

"What's wrong? It's odd to see you scowling."

"Nothing." Solomon exited out of the list. "There's no need to revive this group," he told. "Let them remain in stasis." He moved through the program of when they would wake. It appeared they would wake the moment the ground above them became habitable. Solomon changed this so they would only wake if someone from this computer activated the wake sequence.

Barack nodded, expression grim. "Anyone who puts their survival above their people doesn't deserve to wake just yet." He glared up at the pods higher up. "Abel would never have done such a thing," he muttered. His hand balled into a fist.

"No, he wouldn't have," Solomon agreed. "Neither would Augusta." He headed for the door. "We'll reseal the door."

"Agreed." Thema nodded as she and Barack followed Solomon out of the place. "I don't want someone to stumble on this and wake them. The last thing we need is the UN grabbing for power again."

It was the last matter they ever needed. Still, this had given Solomon an idea for the future the empire. For those who were loyal to Abel and for when they might be needed again. Granted, he needed to work through this before comforting Athina, Barack and Thema, Alexander and Celia, and Azul and Aran over the matter. Besides they needed the next generation to be grown before going through with it as well.

This idea could ensure those of Abel's inner group could aid him and Seth far into the future whenever they were needed.

Solomon would never choose cryo though. His plans for himself would ensure he could stay be his loves side for all eternity if necessary. And even aid Abel in his fight for a lasting peace.

After all, Seth and Abel were all the family Solomon ever wanted.

(Author's Note: I really want to write The Winter Rose rewrite, but can't until after this book is done. So, let's get too it!

For anyone who remembers the really old version of this book I had up ages ago (all one chapter of it), the original first chapter was called "First Assignment, Part 1: Among the Enemy."

I originally had it Abel got the codename Angel by a funny fluke, but, looking back on it, this doesn't seem realistic. Thus, Gregory just gives it to him as a joke.

Also, finally finished the outline for the story. There is a lot of the story not told by Abel but it's the way it is. Currently there will be 45 chapters, excluding the epilogue and parts. I know it's a lot shorter than the first book, but honestly DP needed to be two books.)