It wasn't a long trek before Celia was reunited with the Duke. She followed the footprints in the snow around the side of the building and back out to the main entrance and he sat, watching her trudge his way. This time, he was in the front of the carriage, the side door open.

"I take it you found your visit with Lady Dimitrescu as fulfilling as you had hoped?" His eyes lingered on the blood-soaked collar of her jacket. She imagined she looked as bad as she felt. How could she explain the whirlwind of events she just experienced? Confronted by an Amazonion monster. Groped by a beautiful, inhuman psychopath. Allied with a superhuman who may or may not be leading her into a trap. Attacked by a bug lady. Celia clutched the base of her vest to stabilize her shoulder and let out a breathy laugh. She decided to keep it simple. "Yeah, it was great meeting her...and her enchanting daughters."

"Wonderful!" Either he didn't get the sarcasm, or he was delighted by it. "I understand you would like a lift to Lord Heisenberg's factory?"

His factory?

"Um, yes if that's ok." How much did this guy know?

"Climb in, my dear! We can be on our way."

Grabbing the side of the carriage to pull herself in, her breath caught as a wave of dizziness threw her backwards. Steadying herself, she tried again – this time successfully dragging herself up into the carriage. Packed with various sundry items, she made a place for herself in the center, trying not to bleed all over the floor.

As the wagon began to move, her curiosity got the better of her.

"So, do you work for Miranda too, or..."

He cut her off with a laugh "Me? No, no, nothing like that. Though she is an excellent customer. All the Lords are."

"Hm." She continued. "They were calling her "Mother" – is she really their mother?"

"Mother Miranda...had a habit of...collecting children, you could say. They were not born to her if that's what you mean."

"Is he a...a good person?"

"Who, again, Miss?"

"Karl."

He paused, considering the question. "Lord Heisenberg has many good qualities. He's a good client, that's to be sure!"

She laid down in the back, trying to pile the excess jacket underneath the deep cut to sop up some of the blood. Once she got to the factory and she could remove her clothing, she would take care of the injury. It was too much now to twist around and dig through her pack.

Celia let her mind wander as she gazed at the jam-packed shelves of the merchants carriage. She was surprised to find all sorts of modern items. Well – modern-ish. VHS tapes. Jiffy Pop popcorn tins. Bottles of bleach. Beautiful dresses for little girls. A dirty, daffodil colored stuffed bear peered over a ledge, watching her with one glassy eye. Weapons lined the shelves to her left. Shotguns, rifles, handguns, even what looked like mines were strapped down tight in a crate towards the floor. One item though, stood out to her. It wasn't tucked in with the rest of the stash – rather on its side on a shelf at her eye level. An assault style rifle. It reminded her of the one Chris preferred.

"How are you doing back there, miss?"

"I'm, I'm alright thank you. Are all these weapons for sale?"

"I trade in all sorts of interesting things. Has something in particular caught your eye?"

"Yeah, the uh, rifle here. The one on the shelf by itself."

"A fine choice, if an expensive one." Though she couldn't see his face from the back of the carriage; the way he spoke told her he was smiling.

The carriage was slowing down. Almost abruptly, it stopped and Celia jerked forward, her shoulder jolting painfully.

"I believe we are at your destination."

"Thanks...for the lift."

He turned to her, poking his face through the small window. "The rifle, you can take it. Along with some of the ammo from the shelf at the bottom. This won't be the last time we meet. I'm sure you'll have the money next time." She almost couldn't believe it, but wouldn't give him time to question his generosity. She lifted it off the shelf and grabbed a box of ammunition, sliding it in her bag before sliding the bolt on the door and showing herself out into the dusky evening. She looked back at him. His face was so kind; Celia wondered if it was really possible that someone like this could exist in this hellish place.

"Oh. And something else, miss. He handed her a bundle over. It was tied with a heavy frayed jute cord that doubled as a handle. She reached out and gathered it up with her good arm.

"The ride, and that, are compliments of Lord Heisenberg." Before she could respond, he spurred on the horse, and the carriage jerked forward and down the path leading away from the factory.

"Thank you?" She yelled down to him, hoping he was still within earshot.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again, soon. Until then, take care!" he called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the carriage carrying him back towards town.

xx

Walking through the doors, she wondered what kind of man lived in a factory – his factory at that. What did he manufacture here in this remote village? She half expected him to be waiting for her at the entrance, but the room inside was quiet. Empty.

"Hello?" She called out.

After a few minutes of circling the area waiting for Karl to appear, she decided to do some exploring by herself. She had to find a bathroom or something to take care of her injury. She found a flight of stairs through a door and let it lead her through a few winding hallways. Off one corridor was a small, metal lined room. She decided it was as good as any to administer some first aid. She ignored the metal straps against the wall, the shackles chained to the floor.

Shrugging to slide the jacket off without causing too much damage, she let it fall to the ground as she unzipped her vest and let that drop too. Celia extended her arm, holding it as high as she dared without disturbing the coagulating blood at the injury site. Only able to turn her head so much, she could see where the tip of the blade had peeked underneath her vest and caught the top of her shoulder blade. It could have been so much worse.

She prepared to drop to her knees to dig through her bag for her first aid kit when she heard a whirring noise. It was close. It sounded like a chainsaw, or the revving of an engine. This was wrong. Fumbling for her gun, a shot of adrenaline raced through her when she found her holster empty. Shit. The gun was in her jacket pocket with an empty clip! She wouldn't have time to reload it. The sound was getting closer now, like it was right outside the door. Grabbing her knife, she positioned herself behind the door and using the switch on the wall by her head, clicked off the light. The door slammed open. The sounds echoed off the metal walls creating a deafening effect. Feeling almost disoriented, Celia gripped the handle of her blade and, leading with her good shoulder, slammed the full force of her body into the open door; making contact with something that sounded like metal and incredibly sturdy. Something came slithering around the side of the open door, so she aimed and sliced hard. Steel met flesh and they were both momentarily frozen. Blood poured from his hand and he swore loudly. To her utter shock, he opened his mouth, and laughed.

"When did you slip in, little mouse?" His voice reminded her of a mix between a game show host and used car salesman. How could he be acting this way when she nearly sliced his hand clean off his wrist? He turned and did something behind the door that she couldn't see, and the loud whirring noises stopped. "Sorry about that. This guy doesn't know when to shut the fuck up!"

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" Her paralysis shattering, she dropped her knife, stepping forward towards him. Like magnets with matching ends, his actions mirrored hers and he stepped back. She studied his gaze; but behind his glasses she was met with only the reflection of herself.

She reached out to grab his hand, and he flinched...momentarily dropping his mask. It wasn't outright, in fact it was so subtle her brain almost didn't even register the motion. But when her eyes flicked up to his; his steady, steely gaze over the frames of his glasses told her she wasn't imagining things. His eyes were beautiful; a silver-grey that seemed to surge around his pitch-black pupil.

Do I disgust him? Feeling a little hurt, she broke the silence first. "Um, your hand. It's bleeding, I'm sorry, I have-"

And just as quickly as the mask fell, it was replaced. Putting some distance between them, he bellowed, "This little scratch, please! Doll, if you wanted to hold my hand all you had to do was ask!"

Scoffing, Celia dropped to retrieve her blade.

"Plus, you look a little more beat up than me. Run into Alcina on your way out?"

"No, Bela gave this to me." Celia smiled at him. "If you think this looks bad you should see what she looks like."

He laughed deeply. "I have no doubt, sweetheart." He held out his hand to her and helped her back to her feet.

"Come with me to my office."

xx

He led her into a room that looked more like an operating room than an office. She took in the exam table, a wide brimmed operating light on an extension arm attached to the ceiling. A small, mobile table with surgical tools on a metal sheet.

What kind of a factory is this, again? He motioned for her to sit on the table, and she obliged. "For a factory, this is pretty clean."

He chuckled in response but didn't answer as he repositioned the light and toed the small stool out of his way, the casters carrying it to the far side of the room.

"What was that thing in the hallway with you that we passed on our way here?"

He turned to switch on the bright, overhead lamp. "Eh, that was Sturm. He's something like...an experiment. That dumb animal...sorry if he scared you. I didn't realize you were already here. I was on my way to lock him up. You found your way into his room. Good thing I didn't just chuck his ass in there and lock the door!" He laughed as he pulled off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. He took his long, messy hair and tied it back off his shoulders. He removed his glasses and slipped the folded arm into the collar of his shirt. With his sleeves rolled up and sans his outerwear he didn't even look like the same man she met at the castle.

She wrung her hands as her head swam. The day was catching up with her. She felt deliriously tired.

"Listen, uh..." Celia looked up at him. "I need to see your shoulder so can you...lose the shirt?"

She half expected him to make a crude joke, but he just stood there, staring at her. She tried not to trace the line of his bicep through his light cotton shirt.

"Yeah."

She moved slowly as he walked behind her, maybe the idea of giving her some privacy? Even so, she could feel his eyes on her. She gingerly slid her arm through the sleeve and pulled it over her head before sliding it off her injured shoulder and pulled the crumpled black garment onto her lap.

A warmth bathed her as he pulled the arm of the lamp over the slice in her back. She felt unbelievably exposed, but also a bit of relief that she wore her nice black bra and not the comfortable old beige one. Her eyes fell to the swell of her breasts. She didn't look half bad.

His voice broke through her musings. "Not too bad at all."

"Excuse me?" Jesus, could he hear her thoughts?!

"It's not incredibly deep. You may need stitches though."

Oh thank God. Celia cleared her throat. "Maybe not. I have some first aid in my bag, if you can grab it. There's a small glass container in there, it's green. I don't know what's in it...but whatever it is, it really packs a lot in that little bottle."

She felt him leave her side to retrieve it.

She heard clanking on the tray, and assumed he was grabbing gauze.

"This might sting."

She hummed in response. Her pain tolerance was pretty high. She was ready.

She felt him make contact with her shoulder; the wet gauze grazing and stinging and he wiped the area of dried blood and dirt. Strand after dirty strand of unrolled gauze hitting the table next to her; he took his time cleaning the wound until he was satisfied. Then, he poured the out the contents of the bottle directly onto the cut. The familiar sting. The tingling. The liquid ran down the front of her shoulder and she could feel him wiping the spilled fluid from her upper chest – but no lower. The pain eased and her shoulders relaxed, her head bobbing forward as she felt herself letting along with it, settling into the silence and fuzziness.

"Shit, you weren't kidding." He startled her awake. "Just saved yourself some pain, though I ain't half bad with a needle."

Numbly, she asked "What about you. How's your hand?"

She heard the twist of leather. A pair of gloves were tossed onto the cold metal next to her. Placing one palm on the table by her left side, he reached over her good shoulder and held his hand close to her face. She could feel his breath on the side of her neck just above her injury. His voice was deep and gritty "You tell me." The way he breathed the words into her ear sent heat coursing through her veins.

There was nothing but smooth skin.

His breath on the cool liquid lingering on her flesh gave her goosebumps. She was suddenly very awake and aware of his chest grazing her back. They stayed that way for a few more seconds before she broke the silence, whispering, "Not too bad at all."

He withdrew, and she suddenly felt very cold, like the chill that went down her spine at his words was sinking deeper into her body. At once, she felt very aware that she was shirtless. Fumbling with her shirt, she pulled the dirty thing back over her head, slipping it over her body and wrestling her arms through the sleeves. Was that electric exchange in her head?

She stood and faced him again. By then, he too was completely redressed; his eyes obscured by his mirrored glasses.

She wanted to break the silence...to learn more about him. Retrieving her bag and bloody jacket from the floor by the wall she began, "So, you can move things with your mind – telepathic."

"I think you mean telekinetic, kid. "He spoke softly as he slid his hands back into his gloves, clenching his fists as I to check the fit. "And close…not anything, just what metal I can manipulate via magnetic fields."

"Wow, that's actually...really amazing!"

He didn't reply.

"I mean, it's like you have superpowers. I'm actually jealous. I wish I-"

She trailed off as the air suddenly felt heavy, like a wave of pressure was sinking into her chest. She jumped as he put his fist into the wall, inches from her head. "Amazing. Awe-inspiring. A fucking freakshow. That bitch stole us and experimented with our bodies and CREATED this. I wasn't born this way, a slave! I didn't have any special powers. She cut me open and jammed a parasite in me! I didn't fucking ASK for this. There's nothing amazing about this." He got quiet. "It came with a price."

She waited for him to stop, waited for the pressure on her chest to ease.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't do anything except turn his head towards her.

Desperate to change the subject, Celia took a step towards the open door. "So, what now."