In the meantime, Luke had done some research, which mostly consisted of skimming Bible chapters to see if there was anything that would help. There wasn't. In fact, there wasn't much contained about banishing demons and turns out he'd just wasted a lot of time.

For a while, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror where it'd all started, trying to brainstorm ideas. When he looked up, he found familiarity in his reflection, however, it wasn't him. Rather it was the thing from his dream. Its large frame covered the inside surface of the mirror, barely any features were able to be distinguished from the non-contrast of its black skin. Only two glowing spheres of blazing hellfire could be seen, staring back at him. It was like looking straight into the pits of Hell.

It was all the same, the black, oily skin, the spikes, the muscles, the horns, the tusks, and the odd stumps above its shoulders.

"It's you," Luke said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The shadow didn't reply and again, moved when he did.

He leaned back, away from the sink. He scoffed and shook his head. "This's insane." He sighed, running a hand over his face. He looked back at the silent figure staring back at him with its hellfire eyes. The more he looked, the more his mind grew numb and his vision began to darken, as if he were going to faint. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of this, just you wait." With that, he walked out.

The library was still open, thankfully. Even better, the cranky old librarian was gone, leaving her young and ambitious assistant there to operate on her own. If Luke didn't feel he was so pressed for time, he might've flirted a bit but he needed to figure something out and wanted to be quick about it.

He scavenged through the sections of religion and mythology. Shelves lined with Norse legends and Greek heroes. There were countless others, of course, and Luke didn't know where to start, and he could feel himself getting dizzy again. He shook the feeling away, trying his best to peruse the titles. After a few moments, he heard the sliding of a book on a shelf, head turning towards the noise. He watched as a singular work fell from the shelf, falling to sprawl onto the floor.

Curious, Luke reached for it, picking it up from the floor and moving to sit at a table as the dizziness overcame him again. He opened it, flipping through the pages and, from what he could tell, found that the book was just a bunch of nonsense about the rings of hell and eternal torment as well as life after death. Admittedly, he hadn't known what an incubus was prior to reading. At least there were pictures.

He was about to close the book and walk away when a couple of more pages fell away to a two-page spread of a fantastical beast with hellfire eyes. Every aspect was there, highlighted and no longer in the shadows to blend in with the rest of the body. For the first time, he could finally see the beast clearly except for one thing. Where those odd stumps above its shoulders were, in this picture, there were wings. And Luke realized that those weren't stumps; they were the remnants of wings.

There were text and captions and explanations on the pages but Luke found he was only able to read a select few things as that same fainting feeling overcame him. There was a name and some text which read: Boaz: Knight of the Weeping Souls. And the world went black.

Daisy hummed as she bustled around the kitchen. The sink was getting fuller by the minute and there were pots and pans strewn about. It was, as their family called it, a 'leftovers dinner'. In other words, she was making a dinner that they'd likely be able to live off of for the next week.

The sound of the front door opening and closing caught her attention and she glanced to see who it was. Turning back to what she was going, she called out to her cousin.

"Luke, honey, you mind grabbin' me the butter?" she asked.

She heard his footsteps across the kitchen, then to her. However, as a shadow crossed her, she turned, eyes growing wide.

Over her stood her cousin with darkened eyes and wielding a cast-iron pan over his shoulder.

"Luke, what're you doin'?" she exclaimed.

She watched as her cousin's eyes cleared and he shook his head, seemingly snapping out of some kind of hypnosis. He glanced at her, then at the pan in his hands, then back to her. Slowly, he set it down.

"I don't know," he said, voice laced with fear.

Daisy sighed. "This's gettin' outta hand already." She pointed to the door. "Go wait outside until I'm done in here, I don't want you hurtin' yourself."

Luke sighed and nodded, walking out of the kitchen and back outside, his cousin's words rolling around in his head. "I don't want you hurtin' yourself." That was a load of hogwash if he'd ever heard it. He knew what she'd meant to say: "I don't want you hurtin' me."

Looking around, he noticed that Clayton was sitting on the porch swing, smoking a cigar. With a sigh, Luke sat down on the swing, dejected and quite exhausted from the day's entails. Clayton, who was seated on the other side, watched him do this.

With a wide smile, he asked, "No luck?"

Luke turned his bloodshot gaze to him, too tired to fight. "Why're you like this?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're rude and sarcastic… and dirty. Why?"

"I'm the Devil, dear boy. How'd you expect me to be?"

There was a short moment of silence before Luke scoffed and spoke again. "I kinda expected a little red man with horns and a tail. Maybe smart and smooth-talkin', like a salesman. But I suppose you were an angel once."

"Ah, you mistake me for Lucifer." Clayton took a drag on his cigar. "I ain't Lucifer, I'm Clayton."

"But you were an angel?"

"I was never an angel, cher." Clayton's gaze flickered to meet his. "I was human."

Another moment of silence passed and Luke studied him. "So what happened to you?"

"I died."

"Before that. You said you were human, that means you were a kid once. What happened to that kid?"

At this, Clayton looked him directly in the eye, no sidelong glances or wandering gazes. Direct and deep, the little man answered, "I gut that little fucker of everythin' he was."

"But why? Why would you?"

Clayton stood up from the swing, taking a long drag on his cigar. "Because he made me weak."

With that, Clayton walked away and Luke watched him go, still left with just as many questions as he'd arrived with.

General was in the hotel room again, gathering the Defects and making sure they were all there, which they were, with the exception of Thunder of course. Once he was sure everyone was there, he immediately started debriefing.

"Alright, I dunno if Grant or Diablo's told the rest of y'all yet but we got a situation on our hands. Thunder is missin'," General started.

Caleb, who seemingly had missed this, seemed quite shocked. "What?" he exclaimed.

Diablo put a hand on his arm to steady him.

"Now, I talked to Miss Fleetwood, and unfortunately, there's nothin' she can do. In fact she don't want us goin' after him at all. So I'm sure you're all aware of what I'm about to tell y'all," General continued.

By this point, the Defects were beyond ready. Now, they had a thirst for blood.

"D'you have a plan?" Tank asked. "'Cause if not I ain't above rushin' in there blindly, y'know, I tolerate Thunder."

"Which says a lot," Grant added.

"I'm workin' on a plan, but our main problem is that he was taken by the HRO and I have no idea where that is," General explained.

At the mention of the HRO, everyone's gaze turned to the Black Maiden, who stood sheepishly in the corner.

"Hey, didn't you say you knew something about that?" Diablo asked, turning toward her.

The Black Maiden was hesitant. She sighed and shook her head, averting her gaze. "Your friend's as good as dead already. I'm sorry."

"Oh, come on, we don't know that," Grant argued in an attempt to keep their attitudes positive.

"C'mon, now, Maiden, what ain't you tellin' us?" General asked her.

Maiden sighed again and straightened herself. "I was hoping that we wouldn't have to deal with this but I guess we're past that now. I've talked before about having a crew a long time ago but what you don't know is what happened to them."

"And what did happen to them?"

"We got cornered by the HRO one night while investigating a string of deals concerning stolen car parts." Maiden took a breath. "I was the only one that made it out. I played dead."

"Maiden, that wasn't your fault-"

"You're right, it wasn't. It was his. The man that runs it, who I'm willing to bet took Thunder, is cruel and thorough. His name is Doctor Halton, he's been conducting experiments on Defects since the mid-sixties. The problem is that he doesn't see Defects as living beings. To him, they're still just machines he can take apart."

"Halton," General repeated, thinking. Then, something clicked. "Wait a minute. Way back, the day Tank kidnapped me, the Knight Foundation mentioned that name. They seemed fascinated with us Defects too."

"I'm afraid the HRO sounds a bit more like Acid, General," Tank said.

"You're missin' my point. My point is that the situation might not be as hopeless as it sounds. If we can get KITT and his people to help us we might actually pull this off. I mean, it sure seems like they know a whole hell of a lot more about this than we do."

"And Gravedigger?" Grant asked.

General hesitated before answering. "Look, I know he's part of this team too and I hate to say it, but I ain't sure his head's in the right place right now. I think he's been hangin' out with these city folk for too long. I don't trust him, or Miss Fleetwood for that matter."

There were a few nods of understanding and agreement.

"What about Autumn?" Tank asked.

"What she doesn't know can't hurt her," General explained. "We'll call the Foundation in the mornin', see what they have to say. With any luck, we could have Thunder outta there by tomorrow night."

He missed the sensation of hair covering his ears. Now he felt exposed, like a turtle without its shell or a lion without its mane. Perhaps he was overexaggerating. It wasn't so short that it was cropped down to his skull, there was still some length to work with, but he'd preferred it long. On a positive note, it couldn't get into his eyes any more. But in this situation, he supposed that it would've been better if he hadn't been able to see because he quickly found out about the man's true nature.

He didn't quite think that anything that was being done to him would fix him, but it happened regardless because he didn't have much say in the matter. If he did, he wouldn't be there. He'd be at the Continental, with General and Diablo and all the others. But he was rather tied up at the moment, which he wouldn't have minded much if it weren't for the needles digging into his skin. And they weren't the kind of needles he'd seen the fair Doc Appleby put into Diablo. No, these were long and thin and went right under his skin, sending sparking, stinging jolts of electricity into him.

Though it was painful, after having been struck by lightning twice in his life he supposed it didn't hurt as bad as it should've. That, and he had to be grateful that it only lasted a little over an hour as the man grew bored. And so, he was left in the concrete room he'd spent most of his first day there in. And there he stayed for the rest of the night.

There was a cot in the corner of the room, though unused. He hadn't even slept in a bed at the Continental. Grant and Tank had taken one, Diablo had taken the other. The Black Maiden had claimed the pull-out couch and Caleb the sofa. General insisted that Thunder bunk with Diablo, however, Thunder refused. He wasn't entirely sure why but it just didn't feel right. So General bunked with Diablo, and Thunder went wherever was comfortable. He didn't sleep the full night, obviously, and he drifted between the floor and the armchair and sometimes even the kitchen though he didn't sleep out there.

A faint smile tugged on his mouth as the thought of his friends crossed his mind. He imagined that they were probably tearing up half the city looking for him by now. Looking for him at least.

He sighed, rubbing a hand against his chest where it was sore from the needles. In his mind, he cracked jokes about acupuncture. That is until he heard a noise. They were words with no voice and he understood. It was so familiar and warming to hear.

There was a window on the door to the room. Thunder struggled to his feet, limping to the door. He peered out through the window, finally able to take in his surroundings, trying to see where the noise came from.

There was no hallway, only a row of doors that scaled up the wall of the building, each floor a row of a catwalk accompanied by its row of doors. However, beyond that, where the doors all faced, was what might have been mistaken for an automotive repair shop. There were three lifts and an array of rolling tool carts.

However, on one of the lifts was a car. An El Camino. In any case, most likely a Defect.

"Hello?" Thunder called, unsure if they could hear him not.

There was an answer in return, though it didn't come from outside. Thunder turned, following where the sound had come from, finding a loudspeaker high up on the back wall.

"You alive?"

The noise was choppy and cut in and out but Thunder could understand. "Yeah. You?"

The Defect on the other end had a Southern accent, and maybe even a bit sarcastic. He reminded him of Diablo in body and mind.

"No, I'm talkin' to ya from beyond the grave. Course I'm alive you idjit!"

Thunder smiled and laughed, sinking back to the floor where he'd been. "You, ah… you got a name?"

"Name's Dexter. You?"

"Thunder."

There was a laugh and scoff. "Man, he's been lookin' for you."

"I know it. What're you in for?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. Used to be a lot more of me though, but they're gone now."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be goin' after 'em sooner or later."

"Can I ask you somethin', Dexter?"

"Shoot."

"How's it that you can tap into this intercom system?"

"Oh, that's easy. Alls I had to do was figure out how to reach the microphone on the toolbox over here. You'd be amazed what your windshield wipers can do in a sticky situation."

"Oh."

"What? You didn't think I had some weird superpowers, did you?"

Thunder was silent.

"Shit, you did. Well, I don't. Sounds to me like that whole theory's a load of crap anyway. I mean, Halton said somethin' about a Defect named Thunder bein' able to do somethin' like that. But if you could I don't think you'd be stickin' around here very long."

"You're right, I can't," Thunder answered, growing a little smug. "But I used to."

There was hesitation in the other Defect's reply. "So it's true then?"

"It used to be. I'm afraid I'm broken now, though."

"Says who?"

"I can't make a spark anymore. Trust me, I've tried."

"Have you tried now?"

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, since you're kinda in a life or death situation here, maybe it'll work."

Thunder raised an eyebrow, thinking about it. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, your mindset's different. Maybe that's what you need."

Thunder thought about it for a while, removing his hand from his chest and glaring down at it. With a shaky breath, he closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. He dived deep. Memories, feelings, beliefs passing by. His thoughts enveloped him. He feared death, maybe feared it more than what would happen to him at the hands of Halton.

He held onto that thought, the thought of death. He hung on his fear, using it as fuel. He felt a spark and quickly opened his eyes, seeing a small, faint arc jump between his fingers but nothing more. He sighed, head lolling back to rest against the wall.

"Sorry, Dexter. It's no use," he said. There was no reply. Thunder waited but there was silence. "Dexter?"

Just then, a deep voice rumbled through the loudspeaker. "Dexter is not here."

"Who are you?" Thunder asked. It wasn't Dexter and it wasn't Halton. Nor was it Cameron. "What'd you do with Dexter?"

"The faulty Defect has been disposed of. You are to remain quiet and not speak unless spoken to."

Thunder wanted to get up and run to the door to see who it was but found he didn't have the strength. "Or else what?" he growled.

"Or you too will be terminated. And I will enjoy being the one to do it."

After that there was silence, and the lights outside the door went out.