A/N: Hello everyone. This is my rewrite of the previous story Legacy of Caine: Retribution

There were a lot of things about that story I started to dislike. Mainly I started writing it and rushed through 19 chapters before I even played a TTRPG of VTM. Now, I'm pretty familiar with V20 and extensive WoD lore as a whole, not just VTM, and wish to update the muck ups I have from my previous iteration.

There are also some story threads I forgot to write notes for and I went on hiatus from writing it for a long time. Now I want to get back into it, and re reading the previous chapters to remember everything isn't just a chore, but making me dislike how I did the opening. It went on for too long and quite frankly I feel it was over bloated. I still like a little slow burn here and there but this was just unnecessary.

I'm going to try and make things more sharp and to the point (hard to do with ADHD I tend to like to explain things a little too much) and also want to practice showing instead of telling (however you do that in the medium of writing) so there isn't so much character exposition. Besides, most of you are familiar with VTM at the very least if not the rest of WoD so all that expo is kind of unnecessary.

So with that said, my fingers are crossed this will be better than the last one, and hopefully it will gain the traction the previous iteration did. If not? Oh well. I tried.

Anyway. I hope you enjoy.

EDIT: Hey so I forgot to give a description of Amy Mullen, like hair colour and what have you, simply because I was thinking about how I already gave one for her in my previous iteration of this story and just blanked on making sure it was here. Anyway, I've updated this chapter to include that with various other small edits. I probably still missed some things but whatever.

The City of Los Angeles is gloomy tonight. The Moon hangs high in the night sky. Waning Gibbous if I recall. Only a portion of it's right side is hidden. The moon light was helpful, considering the street lights next to the graveyards and the Serbian Church on E 2nd St are barely working. Only two of the four or five that span the block are on, and only one of them is next to the church.

I reach down to the console of the white unmarked van an old contact picked up for me a few days ago, and grab my freshly opened can of stew. Scarfing down a few spoonfuls while continuing my watch. Turning my head, I look over to my travelling companion. My twin sister. Who currently is giving me a disapproving look.

"Don't judge me. Cold stew from a can is good fuel. Besides I don't want to eat too much. It'll slow me down. Body will focus on digesting instead of what I'm about to do in there." The look only hardened, and we sat in silence for a moment before she lifted her hands and began to sign to me.

"(You shouldn't be here, Cillian.)" I find it hard to focus on her hands when she is in the state that she's in. The girl looks like she's been through the ringer. I'm not about to walk away and let them get away with that. "(There's no point. All that's going to happen is you're going to get in trouble. Even if you survive, what's going to happen after? Think about Sa-)"

"Sam and I are done, Margaret. You know that." Turning away from her, I look back at the Church and take another mouthful of cold stew before speaking again. "I can't ignore this. You know me. No pills or therapy. Just another war. This one I can fight with a clear conscience."

A prolonged silence falls over us once more, the only sound being that of the metal spoon occasionally scraping the inside of the can. I stop eating when I get half way through it, and place it back on the console. I take a paper towel and wrap it around the top, taking a rubber band and securing the material to the can. As I'm about to pull my hands away my sister places her hands on mine and draws my attention back to her broken face.

I have seen plenty of people die, even being the cause for many of them, but seeing my sister like this is... a different feeling. Her face is covered in bruises. Her whole body is covered in bruises. Her hands raise again to sign to me.

"(You've seen enough violence for one life time. You've avenged enough ghosts. In and out of the military. Please. Just go home. Leave this to God. Brother, I love you too much to watch you go into that dark place.)" My twin's plea wrenched at my heart. Unlike my parents and myself, Margaret didn't get into the business of violence. Did she know how to fight? Sure. Kind of hard not to learn a thing or two when raised on a military base most of your life and have soldiers for family members, but she was a pacifist. So she always advocated for peace. She's the only one that's ever made me feel guilty for the things I've done. Not intentionally, but just by existing. As for me. I am always looking for another war to fight.

"Then don't watch. I don't like it when you see me like this anyway." She claws at her hair in frustration and begins to sign again.

"(Cillian, please! Something is really wrong about this place.)"

"I'm aware. People are going missing all over the city, and the activity we've seen here in the past few days has me suspicious that this church and those buildings across the way under the high way are connected."

"(Don't die trying to be a hero. Or for revenge. Call the police.)"

"Do you really think that I believe myself a hero? I'm not a hero, Margaret. I'm a reminder..." I watch as a couple people come out of the church, interrupting my response to focus on my targets with my binoculars.

There are two men, one larger than the other. My estimation is 6 feet tall and 6'5. Both are burly. Unremarkable looking men. They hold the door open for a woman who walks out into the night sky. She has black hair, slightly darker complexion, from what I can tell in the poorly lit area she was standing. She is wearing a black formal power suit. Black skirt that ends mid thigh, black blouse that his only half buttoned up, revealing a remarkable set of her own twins, and a black blazer.

I pull down the binoculars briefly to see that a car is pulling up next to the church. Refocusing on the driver as he gets out of the black sedan, I see a Caucasian man with black and grey hair, and one of those dapper moustaches that come out and slightly curl up on the sides. He looked to be in his mid 40's. As the trio approached the car, the street light over the car flickers out, leaving only the moon light to illuminate them. Which doesn't help very much. The driver opens the back passenger side door, while another man hands the woman a briefcase. She seems to give them instructions, though I can't make out what they are saying.

An icy grip wrapping around my shoulder startles me, and draws my attention to my right. Margaret's busted up face is twisted further into one of pure terror as she stares at the group. Her body trembling and shimmering. She recognized them. They were responsible for what happened to her.

"They can't hurt you anymore, Margaret. I'll bury them." The fear in her eyes. I haven't seen her this scared since we were teenagers. I wanted to assuage her terror, and show her that I'm deadlier than these fuckers. They prey on the weak. I prey on predators.

Turning back towards the church I lift my binoculars once more and nearly drop them out of surprise when I see the raven haired woman staring right at me with a smirk. The two goons are nowhere in sight, and the driver seems to be ignoring her antics. Simply holding the door while his boss just stands there and stares.

It's then I feel a compulsion come over me. If she sees me, I may as well get out and get started. No more waiting. No more delays. Tonight, I burn this place to the ground, with all of those responsible in it. Maybe if I'm lucky I can help some of the recent victims of kidnapping escape. If there are any left alive.

I go to step out of the van when my twin grabs me with her other hand. I turn to face her and she signs to me.

"(She knows! She looked right at you! Cillian you can't go in! Please I beg you!)"

"Sis, you need to keep calm. If you lose control, you will go mad. I've seen it before. Now let me go. I'm doing this with or without you." Margaret pulls her hands away and slumps in defeat. She knows I've made up my mind. I place my hand on her face and stroke her cheek gently. She leans into it, before grabbing my hand and pulling me towards her. We hug, her frigid from pressing against mine. Her icy lips press against my cheek before she pulls away.

"(I won't abandon you. If I can help, I will.)" I nod my head before turning to see the car now driving away. As they pass me, the woman holds my gaze, a curious look played across her face.

I watch them in the side mirror until they turn the corner. At which point I get out of the van and make my way to the back. Opening the doors, I step in and look at what I have available to me.

Due to my connections, I was capable of picking up some off the books weapons. HK MP5 with a mounted laser and extended mags, a Remington 870, a SIG Sauer P226, a 12 inch military tactical knife, two stun grenades, and two smoke grenades. I also have a Kevlar vest, of which I've stuffed a ballistic plate underneath, and night vision goggles. Other than that, I made a few Molotovs, brought a set of bolt cutters, and lock picks.

The P226 sits in a leg holster, and my knife is sheathed on the strap of my bag. I have a military grade backpack with a slot for the shot gun to slide into easily enough that I can pull from my side if needed. My HK has a strap that I have wrapped around my shoulder, keeping the weapon dangling to my side or in front of me if I need my hands for something else. The rest of my equipment is in my bag, save for the grenades, those are sitting in straps on the outside of the bag on my left so I can reach back and grab them at a moments notice. The magazines for the HK and P226 sit to my right, and I'm wearing a bandoleer for the shotgun shells.

Dressed in all black, cargo pants, black long sleeve shirt, black combat boots, and I have my dark hair tied up in a ponytail. I'm also wearing tactical gloves so I don't leave any finger prints. The NVG are currently in an upward position on my head. Checking to see that everything is properly set, I close the back doors of the van and crouch low while looking around. I notice immediately that the street light has come back on, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.

Nobody is on the road except for me. Rounding the van, I see my sister standing by the gate leading into the church. She waves me over while looking around. Seeing how the coast must be clear, I hurry over to the wall she's standing next to and she walks through and take cover.

"(Are you sure about this?)" She asks me. I nod my head, which draws a silent sigh from her. "(Well, you at least have the advantage of having a ghost on your side.)" She turns to the wall and begins to head straight into it. It's always weird watching a ghost walk through walls. Movies and TV shows normally have a cut that you can notice where the actor is just popped into the frame, but in reality, I can see their bodies submerge into the solid matter when walk into the next room or area, and reemerge when coming through a wall towards me. I've even seen one just stand half way in a wall before, confused of where it was. It was as if they had the wall built around them.

I wait for half a minute before she comes back through the same wall and starts signing to me.

"(Nobody is in the courtyard. The guards that were there earlier are no where in sight. I checked the church itself and the lights are on, but nobody is inside.)"

"(Maybe they are preparing for me.)" I sign back. "(I should have moved in sooner. Before she spotted me.)" Margaret shakes her head.

"(Valeria isn't normal. I think she might be like you. Except, she doesn't seem capable of seeing ghosts. Definitely has psychic abilities capable of messing with your mind though.)" That's troubling. I had the ability to see the dead nearly all the time, a strange ability seeing as how they can manifest themselves in our world to appear to others. I seem to be capable of peeking behind whatever veil they are trapped behind at all times without wanting to. But, mind control or causing hallucinations or altering other peoples perceptions were not in my repertoire.

"(Well it's a good thing she left. Are any of her goons the same as her?)" My sister only shrugs.

"(I don't know. I wasn't exactly free to roam around... I was...)" My sisters hands start to shake violently as undoubtedly the memories of her murder are forcing themselves to the front of her conscience. She died a hard death. The state her apparition is in is testament to that. She was clothed a second ago, wearing what she was when she was kidnapped. Simple casual outfit. Jeans, black shirt, heels. Now, she stood naked, her bruises darkened, her jaw broken, her naked body covered in gashes, and the filth and grime from those animals abusing her. Blood was seeping from her temple. Her mouth opens to scream and cry, her tongue and eyes are now gone. They ripped them out of her before killing her.

I want to turn away, but I need to calm her spirit before she goes full poltergeist. In my experience people who haven't moved on from this world yet should avoid losing control of themselves at all costs. One of them has described it to me that it chips away at their essence and leads them closer to oblivion. Allowing a dark shade of themselves to take the reigns.

I ask my sister if I can touch her and she barely looks at me with a nod. Her form is less malleable than it was when she hugged me in the van, but still I wrap my arms around her. Immediately, I'm flooded with images of torture at the hands of the bastards that raped and killed her. I am forced to experience through her eyes what she went through.

For whatever reason, I can't hear ghosts. I've never had one speak to me before. They try, but I can't hear them. Outside of sign language, or the ghost in question expending a great amount of effort to write something down, I don't really have a way to communicate with them. I can only speak with my sister because my mother was deaf and we learned sign language at a young age. However, if the ghosts are going through an emotional episode like this one, whenever I touch them, I can see some of what happened to them. It's not always clear. In fact, a lot of the time it's a mess of images that are hard to decipher.

Her memories indicate that their assault of her body never stopped. They just kept taking turns over and over. She couldn't keep track of how many there actually were and how many just came back for more. Eventually she grew exhausted and wanted to sleep through it, but then the nightmares started, only to come screaming back to consciousness when they tortured her most sensitive parts to keep her awake. Until it became so much that she could no longer stay awake no matter how much they abused her. She would sleep, have nightmares, wake up to the real nightmare, and then fall asleep again. Until finally she woke up and they were no longer there. Until she realized she couldn't see anymore. She began asking for me. Begging God to bring her brother to save her. Before they cut out her tongue. It was then she accepted she was going to die, and prayed that she would go to Heaven.

I pull away from her once it all ended. My heart pounding against the plate underneath my vest. My emotions culminating into a swirl of murderous fury. Why did they do this to her? She has never harmed anybody. All she's ever done is work to help those in need. She fought a different war than I or my father did. She chose to be a healer. Yet she's dead, and I'm still around. It isn't fair. I'm familiar with how good people tend to die while cunts like these animals get to walk around Scott free but it ISN'T! FAIR!

My sisters cold hands cup my face and her thumbs wipe the tears from my eyes. My body is shaking violently and I want to kill something. Margaret's form has gone back to the way it was before, although showing less of the bruises. She has her grey eyes again, and I can't help but wish there was a way to give her my life in exchange. She pulls her hands away from me and starts to sign again.

"(I know what you're thinking. Don't. I'll be fine. Once I move on, my soul will be in God's hands.)" Ever the optimist. I don't have the same faith she does... but if anybody deserves for ever lasting paradise to be real, it's her.

I know that I won't be going there when I die.

Nodding my head I take a moment to gather myself. The training I went through and the shit that I've seen has done a number on me, but it's made me into the monster I am today. Focus on the mission. Primary objective is a simple smash and grab. I smash as in massacre the body-bag filling inside, and grab any remain victims of the recent missing persons cases that may still be alive.

I move towards the building, focused on my surroundings, keeping a look out for any ambushes or traps. When I reach the door, I'm surprised that I haven't noticed any cameras. Do they really have such low security? The woman that left this place looks to be wealthy. Maybe this is one of those secret 1% cults. Maybe they are involved in the skin trade. If that was the case, however, why would they kill Margaret. She's an attractive woman. I mean we are in our late 20's so maybe they just wanted to have their sick idea of fun, and preferred selling young girls for that business. The animals that make purchases for sex slaves tend to be pretty picky about what they want. A lot of them go for young. Too young. Another piece of knowledge about this fucking world that I know due to my time with the JTF-2.

The church itself is a small building. Probably no more than 20x15 feet. Stain glass windows on either side of the front door, one round window at the top, and a "bell tower" on top of the building. There is a separate building for bathrooms, a few stone benches out front with freshly mowed grass and a few trees.

I make my way to the front entrance, and try the door. To my surprise, it's unlocked. Great. They probably want me to come in. Alright. Have to be extra careful. Pushing through the door, I see the room is unlocked. Pulling down my NVG and turning them on, the room becomes green, and I can just barely make out the granite floors. There is a table with some cups and bowls sitting on it. Two podiums on either side in the middle of the room, both with pictures of holy figures on them. There are pews off to the sides of the room and the back wall, is made up of more religious paintings. This place is a drastic difference in extravagance from a Catholic or Evangelical church.

Margaret walks ahead of me. Her form isn't illuminated by light so she is a shadow moving through my field of view. She points to the back wall, and signs the word "Door" before walking through. I follow her, seeing that indeed, my previous assumption that the back wall was a collection of paintings was incorrect. There were a three doors that lead to a back room that the priest likely uses to prepare for service. I ignore the usual things you'd find in a church and follow Margaret as she leads me to a candelabra and points to one of the stems. I catch her meaning, and pull the thing down gently. I hear light rumbling and feel vibrations under my feet as the tiles of the floor shift and reveal a hidden stairway down to what is probably an underground tunnel system or dungeon.

"(Do you recall what's down there?)" She shakes her shadowed head.

"(I couldn't really see. It was dark.)" Before she went further into the memory I put my hand up to stop her.

"(Okay. Just focus on watching my back. If I need you to investigate a room for me I'll direct you. Understood?)" She nods and raises her hand in a salute. I smile at her before putting on my mean face and heading down the stairs.

When I reach the bottom I come to find myself in hallway. Ten feet ahead of me is a junction, with a light fixture in the middle. It appeared to be producing light. The hall I'm in and the one on the other side don't appear to have light fixtures, but the one ahead curves and I'm certain I see a light coming from around the corner. Turning to my sister, I ask her to check ahead for any hostiles. She nods and hurries down the hall. I wait a whole minute as she goes left, right, and then straight. I wait another minute before I start creeping down the hallway, wondering what is taking her so long. Before I reach the junction however, she comes rushing through the wall to my left.

"(Cillian! There are a couple of young adults, I'm thinking early 20's, prisoner down here.)" Great. As horrible as it sounds, it is in this exact moment that I realize I wish all I had to do here was slaughter these pigs and be done with it. Regardless, I won't ignore the call of duty.

"(How many.)"

"(Three. Two boys, and that girl you told me about. Amy Mullen.)" Amy Mullen is the last known person to go missing in L.A since this kidnapping problem arose. Besides my sister, so far nobody has turned up, dead or alive.

The governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and the mayor of L.A have been in talks about issuing a city wide curfew given how many people have gone missing. The idea has had mixed reception from the public. Honestly, I don't understand civvies. They want to be free and safe at the same time, but don't understand those two things don't coincided when you don't have the killer instinct to survive in a world without authority. I can live in a world without cops because I have no problem killing any that threaten me and mine. Still, that wouldn't be a safe life. Even then, with cops, with the killer instincts, my sister is still dead. If only I was with her.

"(Okay, what about guards?")

"(There's a lot. The girl... she's getting the same treatment I did. That's why I took so long to come back. I... had to really work on keeping my composure and not breaking down, watching what they were doing. But, one of the boys has dog tags. I didn't get a good look at it, but his tattoo reminds me of those marines dad was friends with.)" Oh that could be helpful. If he's in fighting condition I can arm him.

"(Who's closest?)"

"(The girl.)"

"(Where? And where are the guards along the path?)" She points to the hall straight ahead of us. I nod as she leads the way.

We travel the halls for awhile, crossing a few more junctions, with each hall looking more and more run down and filthy. This place was less a dungeon and more a basement. The further in we go, however, the more it starts to look like a serial killers hidden killing floor. The coppery smell and rotting death are palpable. I'm reminded of that abandoned cave in Afghanistan that my squad and I stumbled upon. The horrors we saw there. The idea that a human could do any of that is unlikely. As of yet, we haven't come across anything as hellish as that, but I have the same sick feeling in my stomach that I'm being watched, despite the fact that there are no cameras anywhere in this building. It doesn't help either that I can swear I'm either seeing something in the shadows, or the shadows themselves, move ever so slightly.

Then there was the screaming. I could hear somebody screaming in agony and terror every so often. Likely Mullen. I don't want to think about why she's only being muffled some of the time. There are other voices I can hear echoing as well. Likely guards talking shit, but some are whimpers asking for help. Given all that's likely happened here, I'm surprised we haven't come across any other ghosts yet.

My sister puts her hand up as we're about to get to the next junction and makes a fist. Despite not being interested in joining the military, my dad forced her to do drills with us. His methods were harsh and realistically, unnecessary, but it is good that she knows how to clear a room, handle herself, and wordlessly communicate with military hand signs. She turns to me and starts signing.

"(There were guards here a second ago, give me a second.)" I nod as she rounds the corner. I wait a few seconds before she returns. "(Okay. So those two guards are gone now. That door...)" She points to the door down the hall on the right. "(...is where they are keeping Amy. Soldier boy is at the next junction and to the left. He's being slowly tortured, but he's spry. Seems to only have been here for a short while.)"

"(Probably the last one kidnapped but hasn't been reported yet. Okay, I'm going to get Amy, than bring her to the marine. We'll clear every square inch of this place until they are all dead, and all of the victims that can be accounted for are freed.)" Margaret nods and informs me that she will keep watch outside while I get to work.

Wasting little time, I grab one of my stun grenades and pull the pin, and release the trigger as I rush the door and throw my boot into tit. The door snaps in half, being old and rotted, leaving an opening for my stun grenade to go through. Tossing the ordinance into the room I press my back against the wall next to the door and cover my ears. I can hear the men inside scrambling before the flash is seen and I pick up my HK, lifting my NVG off my eyes because I saw that the room was decently lit, and walk through.

Everybody in the room is stunned, covering their eyes and ears, reaching out to feel their way around. There are eight naked men, and four naked women with strap-ons fastened to their wastes. The women appear to be cleaner than Amy, and their toys are covered undoubtedly in the filth and blood of her sex.

"Animals."

One woman, standing at about 5'6 and weighing about 125lbs, so five inches shorter than me, and 75lbs lighter, is standing right in front of me, threatening to kill whoever interrupted their fun. I'm disgusted as her hand reaches towards my face. I let go of my HK, letting it hang from the sling, and I grab her arm with my hands, and snap it in half. She screams in agony, and I rip the tac knife from it's sheathe and ram it into her throat, twisting it and dragging it out the side of her mouth. She gurgles on the blood, trying to scream, but being incapable of it. I take a grim satisfaction out of knowing that I'm punishing the likes of these creatures. Quickly I dry my knife and place it back in the sheathe. Lifting my HK, I point it at the room, just as the rest of the animals start to regain their senses. The five seconds of being stunned coming to an end.

"You all created your own hell..." I pull the trigger, and spray it across the room. "... I'm the devil that crawled out."

Blood splattered everywhere as I shot a few of them through the head. The rest were mostly body shots, some catching them in the throat. One by one they hit the ground. I spent about half the clip. Some of them tried running at me, maybe hopped up on adrenaline, I'm not sure. Either way, not all of them were killed in the gun fire. Some were still moving, albeit suffering great pain in the process.

"This... wasn't part... of the plan..."

"What the fuck! What the fuck!"

I couldn't bring myself to care enough to discern the difference between who was screaming for mercy and who was threatening me that I had fucked up. Pulling out my side arm, I made sure to one tap each and every one of them, animated or not, in the head. Making sure they were all dead.

Looking at the bed, I see the naked and abused Amy. She is covered in the same wounds as Margaret was, but she still has her eyes and tongue. She's silently crying to herself, eyes squeezed shut, and I look around to see if there is any kind of clothing or fabric I could give her to cover up.

Unfortunately, I had no such luck. These guy likely never intended to clothe her again. They would have their way and kill her afterwards. They didn't account for me. Though... one of them mentioned a plan. I would say I should keep my eyes open and light on my toes but I was already doing that.

"Amy Mullen." She didn't respond to her name. "My name is Warrant Officer Cillian Doyle. I was apart of the Canadian Armed Forces for a decade. Specifically the JTF-2 Basically our version of the Navy Seals. Only we don't get covered in the media that much. I'm here to get you and any other survivors out of this hellhole." I introduce myself as I unfasten her binds. The bed she is on is filthy, but some how she's even filthier. Her dirty blond hair is matted, her green eyes are puffy from the crying, and her athletic frame is covered in bruises, small cuts, her abusers sex, and blood, of which I am not sure is all hers after what I just did. There are no buckets or sinks, so I can't give her a light washing, not that we have the time for that anyway. The bed doesn't even have a sheet on it, so I can't cover her up.

"H-how did... you find me."

"Combination of things. Mainly looking for the bastards that killed my sister. I found them. They're going to die now. You however, get a second chance at life. Should you take it." Without hesitation the girl attempts to quickly get up from the bed but finds herself stiff and grunts in pain.

"God. I'm soar."

"Take it easy. Only move quickly when in imminent danger. Right now, I'll be taking on the brunt of the physical labour. All you have to do is find the strength to walk so you can make it to the exit." Her face goes from pain to fear.

"Are you going to leave me alone? Please don't! I need your help!" The panic sets in fast and I have to face the door where Margaret is standing. She is looking either way down the halls, turning to me every so often to let me know the coast is still clear. My weapons aren't silenced, not that silencers do what the movies and video games claim they do, so the whole building probably heard the gunfire.

"I'm not going to leave you Amy. I've got intel that says a Marine is also down here. I'm going to find him and give him a weapon and some ammo. He'll help. You'll get out of here. But we don't have all night. Follow me." Amy takes a breath, trying to compose herself, and stands. She steps in blood, and looks down in shock. I see the look of horror fill her eyes as she begins to throw up. This part always annoyed me. Our lives are on the line. Hold it together long enough to get to safety, then mourn and get sick. She earned a bit of my respect however, for after she is done throwing up, she proceeds to kick one of the dead bastards.

"Filthy fucking mother-fucker! I wish you could die twice!" I grab her by the arm and drag her out of the hall. She flips out briefly, likely being triggered by my forceful methods and I let go of her arm. She cowers for a minute, before my sister walks into the room and smacks me upside the head.

"Ow!"Amy's terrified face mixes with confusion when she see my reaction. I then see my sister shimmer for a minute before she reforms, which causes Amy to scream.

"Never seen a ghost before I take it." I say.

"What?!"

"Amy, this is my sister, Margaret. She was treated the same way you were before they killed her. Now, she's helping me with my mission." Amy looks between me and Margaret, and gathers herself enough to stand once again. She is still freaked out, but she can't deny that what she is seeing is a ghost, given she did just manifest in front of her.

"Go... He will... protect... you." That is something I've never heard before. Margaret's voice was barely a haunting whisper. Whispers are about all I hear when I deal with ghosts. Still, saying as much as Margaret just did has never happened before. At least not around me.

"I've never heard a ghost talk before. Margaret how did you do that?" She turns to me and shakes her head. Clearly unsure. She signs to me instead, claiming that she just really wanted Amy to get out of here. Maybe ghosts can do a lot more than I'm even aware of.

"Okay. Get me out of here. Can I have a gun?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"(Yeah why not?)"

"You are in shock. I can tell by the look on your face. I don't trust you with a weapon. We are going to get out of here. I'm going to kill everything that moves. Now let's go." Leaving no more room for argument I head out of the room and ask Margaret to go check the Marine's room. She complies and rushes down the hall, shimmering as she does.

"She disappeared."

"Wraiths can't hold their manifested forms for too long. As far as I know anyway. But then again, I didn't know they could talk the way she just did, so I'm pretty sure I probably know more than you'd think, but less than I should."

"The fact ghosts are real at all is insane to me but... whatever. So long as she's helping us." I nod in agreement as Amy and I make our way slowly down the hall. Margaret comes flying out of a room signing to me and I raise my weapon.

"(DANGER!)" Just as I lift my HK a few guards burst into the hall. This is terrible because there is no cover in this bloody corridor so I just open fire. A few bullets hit me in the vest, causing me to stagger back, but lower myself and empty the rest of my magazine before switching to my shotgun. I killed about three men, but a few more were coming around the corner.

"Get the bastard!"

"The mistress doesn't want him dead!"

"He's killing us! I don't care if-"BLAM! One of the men shot another point blank in the head. My money is that Valeria is their 'mistress' and that they don't want to anger her. I just start unloading shell after shell down the hall. Amy is standing behind me, using me as a meat shield, but other than those two bullets that caught my vest, they seemed to have storm trooper accuracy.

Inevitably, they started rushing down the hall, and I fired my last shell. I wouldn't have time to draw my pistol, so dropping the shotgun, I pull out my tac knife and get to work. The first guy comes in swinging a baton at my head. I duck under him and cut an artery under his arm that will cause him to bleed out very quickly. Another bastard tries to jump me with a baseball bat as I stand up. Instead of making the same mistake aiming for my head, he aims for my ribs. I turn so that the plate takes the brunt of the hit and rap my arm around the bat, using my free hand to deliver a vicious strike to his throat, collapsing his trachea and dropping him to the floor.

The third guy seems different. When he passes under the one light fixture in this dimly lit hallway, I can see that his eyes are pure black. I would chalk this up to him tattooing his eyes, but usually you still see an iris and pupil after the ink was injected into your sclera. Even freakier is that he's running at me at insane speeds without a weapon. I lift my arms and just as he swings on me alarm bells tell me to duck. Doing so, I hear him punch the concrete wall behind and I hear it crack. That should be impossible. Don't get hit by him. Got it.

Luckily for me the bastard left himself open, but when I try to ram the knife into his eye, he knocks it from my hand and slams me into the wall. I protect my head as best I can to avoid a concussion, but he starts laying into me with body shots. The rest of the guards cheer as he throttles me for a bit. I can feel the plate underneath my vest bending more and more with each blow. After a few more hits, he switches it up and starts hitting me in the face. Each blow is like somebody is taking a rock and smashing me in the face. He hit me three times before another guard shouts above the cheering crowd.

"Valeria said she'll flay us alive if we broke skin!" The man stops hitting me at that moment and turns towards the others. The taste of blood prominent in my mouth.

"Shit! I forgo-WHAT THE-!" Margaret manifests herself right in front of the goon, startling him which gets him to let me go. Right as he does, I reach for my P226... and find that it's missing.

I hear a gunshot and the front of the bastards head explodes outwards towards Margaret. She turns as she removes her eyes and tongue, freaking out the guards down the hall.

"Run!" Her voice scares some of the guards into high tailing it but two stay behind. Those that do earn themselves a few more bullets and drop to the ground dead. Looking over to my left, I can see that Amy had grabbed the P226 from my holster. Spitting the blood from my mouth, I feel my jaw, and definitely notice that it's going to not work properly for the rest of my life. I should still be able to talk however.

"Okay... you can shoot." Pulling the leg holster off when I stand I hand it over to Amy. She promptly wraps it around her bare thigh and I retrieve my shotgun. Reloading both the HK and the 870, I holster the shotgun on my bag once more and lift the HK as I make my way down the hall.

"Anybody there!" I can hear a young man's voice now. Clearing the corners of the junction I cross to the next hall and walk through a now open door.

Chained up to the wall is a Black-American clad in only a a pair of sweat pants and his dog tags. He has a fade, and a clean shaven face. A contrast to my long hair and full beard. He looked to be in decent shape, albeit some what battered. His lip was busted and he sported a black eye, among other bruises and cuts.

"Thank God! Get me out of here! And give me that shotgun!"

"Identify yourself first."

"Are you serious?"

"Sorry kid. I don't hand weapons to just anybody who asks." The young man curses and turns his head to Amy. His scowl deepening as he does.

"She is butt ass naked and you gave her a gun."

"Um, actually, I-"

"I know who she is. Now identify yourself." The man sighs and struggles against his chains.

"Specialist. Malcolm White. 3rd Battalion, 1st Marines."

"The Thundering Third, eh? Met a couple of your boys before in the field." The White looks me up and down and I get that sense of camaraderie that comes with being in almost any military.

"You a marine?"

"Do I look like a Jar-head to you?" I crack a smile as he chuckles. I nod for Amy to undo his restraints and I watch the door.

"No actually, you don't. Are you even American?"

"Yep. On my mother's side. Born over seas."

"Military brat."

"Something like that."

"So, who are you?"

"Former Joint Task Force 2 operative, Warrant Officer Cillian Doyle." A whistle comes from the young man, drawing my attention as he steps away from the wall and massages his wrists. He roams his eyes up and down Amy, a look of sympathy on his face.

"JTF-2. Canadian Seal Team Six form what I've heard."

"Better."

"Yeah. Honestly I've heard that to. You guys are way more secretive about your business than anybody. You quit or something."

"Retired early. Been over seas fighting wars my whole life. Time to enjoy my time in the sun." That isn't true. At least not fully.

"So what brings you all the way down here?"

"They killed my sister. Treated her the way they treated Amy over there." He looks back over to Amy again, and shakes his head.

"You want my pants?" The boy was kind, but he was 6'1 and probably weighed just a little bit more than me. Amy shook her head.

"It's hard to move already. Having to hold my pants up and trying to shoot and move... it's too much. I'm already exhausted."

"So where do we go from here?" He turns to me and I look him up and down before taking the HK off and handing it to him, along with the extended mags and the mags for the P226.

"Margaret. I need you to go check if there are any more survivors." She nods and runs off. "When she gets back, I'll sen-"

"Who the hell are you talking to?" I pull my shotgun out of the holster and check to see if I re-racked it, which I did.

"My sister." Malcolm looks at me sideways, clearly confused.

"You just said-"

"She's a ghost." Amy piped up.

"Oh you have to be shitting me."

"Nope. It's real. If she can still do it I'll get her to manifest in front of you for proof."

"I saw her myself. She scared the hell out of me. One minute, Cillian and I are in the room I was being held prisoner in, just he two of us, and then the next, she's right there."

"I don't buy it."

"Why would we lie?" Amy asks.

"You, probably are in shock and so traumatized that you'll believe anything that will help you cope with this situation. No offence. I appreciate the save, but as for you, Twos... well we're both soldiers. Maybe you just snapped and-"

"I've been seeing ghosts since I was a kid SPC. White. If you don't believe me that's fine, but I assure you I am of sound mind. Follow my orders, and we'll make it out alive." White seems ready to argue, but is interrupted by shouting from down the hall.

"Here we come piss ants!"

"They took our whore toy from us!"

"The Jar-head is free too."

"Let's get them back shall we?"

The room we are in is unfortunately grossly under furnished. No cover what-so-ever. Luckily I had an idea. Pulling out a smoke grenade, I pull the pin and pop it into the hallway. From there, I pull a Molotov out of my back pack and a lighter, and set the rag a blaze.

"Time for some fire to cleanse this place." Walking out the door now that smoke is filling the hall, I toss the Molotov in the direction the voices were coming in. I heard the glass break and the telltale signs of crackling flame. Followed by a scream as I apparently hit somebody with the bottle.

"That's our cue." Malcolm stated to Amy as he followed me out of the room.

"Sir, where's the exit."

"Sir is for useless people. I work for a living."

"You used to work for a living. You said you were retired."

"Semantics."

"Is this really the time?" Amy's concern broke through the glibness of us soldiers and I sighed.

"Go down that way until the hall curves. You'll see a junction with a stairway on the other side. It leads up into the Serbian Church on E 2nd St by the highway."

"Shit really?"

"Yep."

"You're not coming with?"

"If there are no more victims that need rescuing down here, I'm killing everything else." the boy gives me a hard look. He looks torn between helping me and saving the girl.

"Warrant. I-"

"I technically out rank you kid. Take the civvie topside and get the authorities. Oh, and here." Pulling out the keys to the van I toss them to the kid. "White unmarked van out in front of the graveyard. Can't miss it. There's plenty of food and water in there. A change of clothes too. Won't fit properly, but you'll at least get covered up." He nods and salutes me, which I return.

"Want the HK back?"

"No. You might need it." I turn to leave, but I feel arms wrap around my side. Looking over I see Amy is hugging me.

"Thank you. I don't know... thank you." I pat her head, trying to comfort her. She pulls away and takes off the leg holster off with the P226 placed firmly inside and hands it back to me. I take it, knowing that I'll probably have a lot more guys to go through. This place looks way bigger than I thought it would be. The Marine has an MP5 so they'll be fine. Taking the mags for the P226 back from Malcolm, I take a flashlight out of my bag and hand it to Amy. We say our goodbyes and they head off. Flipping my night vision back on, I turn down another hallway, and make my way deeper into the building.

No one is escaping if I can help it.