I don't own RWBY or Call of Cthulhu Horror Aboard the Orient Express.

AN: Special thanks to Crimson Weresloth, U.S Napalm Man, Self-helper95, Jay Cringe Keloid, Qwetymalcomb67, Tunnelboi, Bullshark96 for the inspiration used in chapter.

February 4th 1925, Constantinople Turkey

3rd POV

The scene opens inside the caboose of the Orient express two days prior. Blake quickly enters the luggage holding of the train. With her Faunas eyes she was able to navigate the dark cramped corridors of the train car. Once the coast is clear she looked around at the luggage as FEB stumbles in. As he trips over a low stashed crate, muttering about how he should have stayed behind and drank Rakı to bed Blake tossed a Blazer and some trousers at him.

"The Feck is this?" FEB asked as he pulls the clothes off his face. Blake begins unbuttoning her shirt as she turns around the corner, but not before holding up her Scroll.

It read, "A disguise. We can't look like spy's, not without starting an international conflict."

"(Sigh) How did I go from being a puppet of a higher cunt to a cunt of higher authority." FEB mutters under his breath.

The two quickly changed out of there SIS clothes. Blake quickly got on into her clothes while FEB struggled. His old age being to show when he leaned against a large trunk. Once in their civilian attires they tossed their clothes out the window. Slowly the two walked out of the room, Blake was dressed in conservative clothing for the time, with a purple blouse shirt and ancle long skirt. A wide brim hat to help hide her faunas ears. As for FEB, he had adorned a plaid three-piece suit with matching bowler hat, though it pinched in a few places.

"Ugh, must you pick these damn clothes? I'm tempted to take that daisy chain preacher rags if it means I don't tug at my gut every minute." FEB said as he pulls at his pants.

Holding up a piece of paper so she didn't use her scroll light, FEB squints to read the paper. "If you want to ransack through the luggage to find a pair of clothes fine. But you will have to repack everything once found."

"… was a simple question twat. Didn't need anything beyond a no." FEB grumbled. Blake simply rolled her eyes as she walks down the train to first class. FEB followed closely behind, after carefully making their way to the front, avoiding attention from exhausted passengers, staff, and conductors alike. After finding an empty dorm, they entered locking the door behind. They made plans to look for Makryat the following day.

February 5th 1925, at the crack of dawn

In the morning, Blake arose early. Quickly leaving, she slipped through first class looking for the mad cultist. Sadly, she was unsuccessful. Not wanting Feb to wake up wondering where she was, she heads back when her Fuanas ears heard an all too familiar voice coming from a nearby dorm. Pressing her ears against the door she listens to the conversation. While in England she took up a habit of learning laungese on earth. French, she had managed to grasp, so long as they didn't talk to fast.

"Alors, comment était le repas?" (So how was the meal?) A young boyish voice remarks.

"Eh, je ne suis pas vraiment fan de cette cuisine fantaisiste." (Eh, I'm not really into this fancy schmancy food.) A familiar female voice remarks with her mouth full.

"Le poulet et les boulettes ne sont pas vraiment chics. C'est un plat réconfortant américain, comme les cornichons." (Chicken and dumplings isn't really fancy. It's an American comfort food, you know like pickles.) The young boyish voice quips

"Ugh, je ne sais pas comment les cornichons peuvent être considérés comme de la malbouffe. Donnez-moi un gâteau à tout moment de la semaine." (Ugh, not sure how pickles can be considered junk food. Give me a snack cake any time of the week.) The all too familiar female voice remarks now finishing the food in her mouth.

"Normalement, être gros serait un signe de bonne fortune. Mais si les gens mangeaient du gâteau comme s'il s'agissait d'une collation tous les jours, je penserais que c'est plutôt un problème de santé." (Normally, being fat would be a sign of good fortune. But if people ate cake as if were a snack every day, I'd think it be more of a health issue if anything.) The boy said before Blake heard the clinking of silverware touch the table. "Bon, je vais me laver. Souhaitez-vous un peu d'intimité pour vous habiller?" (Alright, I'm going to wash up. Would you like some privacy to dressed?)

"Ouais. Je veux explorer un peu plus ce train de fantaisie. Voyez ce qu'il en est." (Yeah. I want to explore this fancy train a little bit more. See what's the fuss about it.) The familiar voice said.

Blake then hears the sound of wheels turning the door then jiggles and out rolls a boy in a wheel chair. Before she was spotted Blake used her years of training to hid on the roof. She watched carefully as he rolled his wheel chair unexpectedly past her. Once he entered the wash room, Blake dropped down and peered into the room. She watches as a short gingered haired girl removes her clothes. As she hummed a mixture of boop goes the weasel and the French national anthem, Blake struggled to get a good look at the nearly naked lass when suddenly she stopped. Turning slightly with her hand covering her breast Blake got a good look at the girl.

She nearly let out a gasp but covered her mouth quickly. It was Nora, her face. God's her horrible face. It was so horrificly scared with one eye missing. Despite her horrific scared face, she recognize her none the less. She then walked to the door calling out to Blake.

"HEY, who's there!" Nora shouted. As she looks through the key hole. Blake quickly pulled back just before Nora spotted her.

Admittedly a part of her wanted to approach her, to be absolutely sure that this was indeed Nora but she knew that if she associate with her, the cultist might target her. So she quickly heads away but not before bumping into that crippled child again.

"Oh, Excusez-moi, madame." (Oh, Excuse me madam.) the young boy said to which Blake gave a silent nod as she let's the boy roll down the hall. Quickly and quietly returned, to her room she barely had time to contemplate what she saw when she found FEB mooning her.

"Oy! Close the door, trying to get me pants on!" FEB snapped as he tried to cover his privates. Quickly pulling up his trousers he snapped, "You leave me for five minutes at the very least you can give me some privacy to freshen up."

It was in that moment he noticed a strange look in Blakes eye. Not a disturbed look of seeing an old man exposed ass but one of concern. "Oh come now, it's not like you haven't seen someone change clothes. What is it?"

Blake then rolled her eyes before holding up her note pad that had one word on it. 'Nora'.

"… Who the fuck is Nora?" FEB asked to which Blake handed him her scroll. After struggling for a few moments with the dohicky he found that there was an up close photo of a ginger with light blue eyes. He then looks up to see Blake wrote another note.

"Nora Valkyrie, she's a friend of mine. Not on the same team but our two have lived next to each other. She's here, on the train." The note read.

"Huh, so what's the problem?" FEB asked. "Afraid to say hello to an old friend?"

Blake gave a dagger glair before holding up another note. "We are here to do a job, if the cult finds out about her she and that kid will be in danger!"

"Kid? What kid?" FEB asked. Before Blake could explain, they suddenly heard the handle on the door jingle. Someone tried to get in but found the door was locked. Acting quickly, the two hid under the seats before whomever was trying to get in unlocked the door.

Opening, a European man dress as a Turk entered. He looked around with a suspicious glair as this room was meant to be unlocked. After a quick glance he then said something in Turkish before more men and a single woman carried in a stranger bound in a trench coat. From under the seats the two watched to their shock that the stranger in the trench coat was a man who was recently flayed. Seeing that there was no obvious wounds or and knowing the cult's profile it was likely while he was alive. How they did it without anybody hearing his screams is beyond the two but they dared not make a sound. Silently watching as they tossed the body out the side.

Once the job was done the European spoke in Turkish as if he was a native. Blake couldn't make out much but something about their profit wanting more followers in first class. After mentioning a few passengers the other's tricked out of the room yet the man stopped just before he left. Standing on one of Blakes many notes. He leans down to pick it up, coming dangerously close to spotting Blake. As he looks over it, he place the note in his pocket before walking away. With a sigh of relief the two slowly crawled out of there hiding holes.

"That, was to close." FEB mutters as he stands up. Blake giving a nod quickly walks out of the room to see where the group had gone. However they seem to have disappeared. Turning back to FEB she motion to follow her. FEB fixes his pant's before following her out into hallway. She quickly scribbled instructions to head to first class while she checked second class. Giving a nod the two split up to search for the suspected cultist.

After half an hour, Blake find herself routed back to first class dining car as conductors were moving through the couch's car. There she found herself in the awkward position of being in the same car as Nora and the kid. Surprisingly she seems to be speaking french rather well. She wasn't the brightest student at Beacon, only passing her exam's at c-. Least the written portion of her exams. As she watches her interact with the boy in the wheel chair she hears the voice of a man she knew by reputation.

"Why, it's hard to find a woman who isn't engaged in today's flapper fasion, though I think it would have suited you my darling." A voice said as he leans in closer to her. He was about to remove Blake's brim hat when she grabs ahold of his hand.

She held up a small written note reading, "And it's rude to touch a ladies hat, Sir Robert Harrow Bart."

"Uh hem, well forgive me for doing so." Bart said as he pulled out of the young woman's surprisingly tight grip. "Wasn't aware you knew who I was Ms. Quiet."

"Quiet yes, but not by choice. I am however very knowledgeable about parliamentary politics and your reputation that lead you to leaving them." Blake wrote before presenting the note.

"Ah, well… suppose you are not willing to listen to the rambles of tabloid journalism." Bart said with a faint smile.

"No, but I worked in the house of commons and Lords with Churchill. So I had a fairly firsthand account of your deeds." Blake wrote before presenting with a sinister smirk.

"Ah… well, have a good afternoon then." Bart said before leaving quickly. As he goes to return to his compartment in utter embarrassment he passes by FEB.

"Watch it, arse." FEB mutters before walking over to the bar. "Whiskey, leave the bottle."

Seeing FEB go for the bottle caused a frown to appear on Blake's face. She walked over to him and stopped him from taking the bottle, passing a small note. "What do you think your doing?"

"I was just getting a myself assimilated lass." FEB respons as he pulls the bottle back.

Blake pulls the bottle back again before writing, "May I remind you that we are very short on funds."

"I am not wasting all our money just to get drunk." FEB said in his defense as he grabs the bottle.

"And if we need to bribe a boarding guard, or eat food? Booze won't do us good." Blake wrote before presenting it to FEB before taking the bottle back.

"That's for making friends." FEB snaps. Blake stared him down with a cold frown but he did not budge He goes for the bottle to which lead to them begin a tug of war over the bottle trying to get it out of each other's hands only for it to slip from Blakes hand. The contents spilled out on a woman who heavily reminds Blake of her old professor.

"Regarde ce que tu as fait, espèce d'ivrogne écossais!" (Look at what you done, you Scottish drunk!) The woman snapped as she tried her best to wipe the Whiskey off her shirt.

"It's her fault." FEB said as he points to Blake. He then earned a rather hard nudge from Blake for that remark. Trying to cover for her partner she begins writing an apology before presenting it.

"She doesn't speak English, much less read it." Another voice called out as a man with an impressive mustache walked forward. He then turns to his wife and spoke in his natural tongue; "Elle écrit ceci pour s'excuser de l'erreur de son amie." (She is writing this as an apology for her friend's mistake.)

"Pourquoi l'écrire plutôt que de me le dire." (Why write it down rather then tell me.) the woman asked in annoyance. Blake didn't catch most of what she said but was all too familiar with the question to know what she said.

"She want's to know why you communicated non verbally." The man asked to which Blake already presented an answer.

"Can't speak, lost tongue in incident." Blake wrote before showing him the paper. The old man then translated what it said to his wife.

"Oh… um Pardon. Je ne voulais pas te casser la gueule. Pardon." (Oh… um Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you. Excuse me.) The wife said before excusing herself.

"I'm terrible sorry about that. If I may ask how did you loss your tongue?" The old man asked. Before Blake could write up a lie FEB spoke.

"Lost her tongue in the blitz." FEB blurts out. "Me and the little lady lost some loved ones during the fire of 17."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I too lost many friends on the Western front." The old man said with an understanding nod.

"Yes, war is hell as they say." Blake wrote before presenting.

"Hmm, an understatement of the generation." The old man said before ending the conversation. "If you excuse me, I must attend to my wife."

As soon as he was gone the two return to the bar before letting a small sigh of relief. That nearly got out of hand, even now they still have a few eyes on them. Blake can see in the mirror that Nora was trying to get a good look at her face.

"Tu sais que c'est impoli de regarder, laisse la femme tranquille. Je suis sûr que c'était un accident." (You know it's rude to stare, let the woman be. I'm sure it was an accident.) The young boy said to Nora.

"Non, c'est pas ça." (No, it's not that.) Nora said as she stands up. She was about to place her hand on Blake's shoulder when suddenly that woman came in. Her hair and clothes was disheveld and in a fit of panic called for Nora.

"Nora, Jobert a des ennuis il y a un homme dans notre chambre!" (Nora, Jobert's in trouble there is a man in our room!)

"Quoi! Oh Monty, reste ici!" (What! Oh Monty, stay here!) Nora said before racing away, stopping her from spotting Blake. The two looked at one another as passengers within the dinning car takes immediate notice of how distraught the woman is.

Eventually they heard the sound of something large being thrown in the other car and goes to investigate. Sneaking in with the crowed, Blake and FEB found that European from before, laying on the ground with his skin torn. He then spoke in Broken English, "Forgive my failures… Skinless one." Before stabbing himself in the neck. The crowed begins to panic giving a moment for Nora to spot Blake. She quickly ducks away with FEB following her shortly. They will have to hide as no doubt this incident will draw police attention.

February 5th 1925, Sofia Central Station, Bulgaria.

Cutting to Sofia the capital of Bulgaria. Blake and FEB avoid the inquiry of staff and local law enforcement for a time. Once the rounds have been done the two could leave there hiding spot at the request of Blake FEB walked out to check on the family that were with Nora while she searched there room. She wasn't sure what that man was doing in there room or how they managed to disguise himself from assumably the corpse's skin. However after quickly looking through the room she found nothing of interest. Heading back she walked off the train to scan the passengers. If one of these cultist can disguise themselves as another, then what about other's?

Looking among the crowed, she could not find anybody that stood out. She couldn't help but let out a shudder in exhaustion and fear. She wasn't the most social person, even when she could talk but now the idea that someone here would put a knife between her stomach set her senses on edge. As she looked on into the crowed she felt the presence of eye upon her. Looking around quickly she spotted Nora, or she thinks it's Nora. The two stared for a few moments before Blake passed FEB. She heads into the car back to her room only to open it and find a group of five inside. She gives a nod of apology trying to pretend that she walked into the wrong room however one of the men inside grabbed her arm.

"Please sit. We have much to discuss. küçük casus." The stranger said in broken English. Recognize it was Turkish Blake quickly moved in with a swift kick sending the thug back against the window. The five others raced towards her. Armed with curved shape knives designed for flaying.

They strike at her with these curved knives course compared to her these cultists were merely thugs with fancy knives. She easily evaded each strike before countering with a devastating jab. She could not pull gambol shroud nor use the borrowed pistol. However her time at Beacon along with her time in the field as a WF and SIS operative, gave her more practice in unarmed combat. As she beat the six cultist with fluent and relative ease she failed to notice one who softly walks in behind her. Despite her enhanced Fauase senses she did not notice the figure till she heard the whooshing of a blade. Turning around she held up her arm to protect her face. Expecting the blade to bounce off her skin as her Aura could stop bullets, she was shocked to be sent to the ground in a great deal of pain.

An intense pain shot through her arm. One of the cultists with a strange curved blade had slashed her. Its almost stone like in appearance with a strange fern like texture with the tip curving as if it were a talon. As she stares the pain grew intensely that for a moment, she took her eyes off her attacker's blade to look at her arm. Her eyes widen in horror as not only did the blade pierce her skin but stripped muscle exposed on her right arm. She grabbed her arm as blood dripped from her arm. As she held her arm in excruciating amount of pain the cultist who struck her begins to mock her.

"Hmm, your skin will make a fine trophy for derisiz saflığın tanrısı." The cultist said in a staff uniform. Holding up a piece of flesh that he stripped. Blake couldn't get a good look at the man's face as his face was covered. He motioned to the rest of his fellow cultist grabbed Blake and held her down in her daze state as he held the strange blade to her face. "I think… I'll take your face next."

As he holds the blade to her ear about to carve from behind the ear, he was pulled back by FEB. Who quickly broke the man's nose with a hard right hook. Seeing this a sole cultist goes for FEB only to be hit in the eye with a splash of strong alcohol. He then takes the bottle and smashes it against another head. He was about to grab the one on Blake when the one dressed as a conductor raced to his feet and using Blakes own skin as a garrote. As he struggled to get him off, Blake fought through the pain. Overthrowing one of the two which crashed into the conductor freeing FEB before she got her pistol out and placed it deep into the other man's gut. The shot was muffled in the man's flesh as she pulled herself up and delivered a painful right hook. Her aura did nothing to muffle her pain but despite the intensity of it she powered on through. Grabbing FEB and making a break for the other cars.

The cultist didn't chase after them. They found refuge in a room in second class that had been unoccupied. Upon locking the door FEB turns to Blake. "The fuck was that? I can't leave you for five minutes without someone trying to kill you."

Blake rolled her eyes as she held her arm in agony. She tried to write on her scroll but the pain became to much as blood begins to flow from her arm. Her vision begins to get blurry and her legs shook.

"Blake? Oy lass, you alright?" FEB asked as Blake struggled to write. She then collapsed. The last thing she heard before fell unconscious, was FEB calling out her name. "Blake!"

Ph'nglui nyarlathotep shugog

Blake awoke to find herself in some strange cave that she could not quite identify. It was dark but as she begins to move around, she felt something below her feet. Much to her horror she found that the rug she was standing on happened to made from the skin of so many, many victims. Unintentionally stepping on the still but hollering screams of these faces she struggled not to scream but heard the sound of clashing behind a curtain of flesh. Hesitant she slowly moved to it, upon pushing aside she found a lair.

Below by a river of blackish blood lies a statue made from a strange stone like statue. It held an aura that illuminated fear itself, as if the void had cast it from the darkest depts of despair. As she around the pool's were five men dressed in what looked like Roman centurion armor. They battled a man who's skin was his weapon. His mouth acted like a bat like drown, striking at his opponents. His back skin morphed into reaper like scythes that slashed out like a spider's leg. His belly opened to grapple with the men. Just as she watches with horror, one brave Centurion takes the ultimate sacrifice. Grabbing ahold of the skinless man he tacked him into the blood where the splash caused a tidal like wave to rush towards Blake.

She raced towards a set of stairs before the blood could consume her, where she found herself at the top of a tower. Finding multiple men in Crusaders clothes battling a man armed with a knife, like the one used against her. His strikes cut through the knight's armor causing intense pain that stunned them. However, he could not get any killing blows as another knight would step in. Blake could not help but notice a strange tapestry hanging on the wall. It was like looking at a trampoline, made of flesh skinned from multiple victims at the center their open mouths illuminated a strange light. Looking closer she could see something moving behind it, as if it were a baby in a womb. That is when one of the knights' races past the man with the knife. He screamed for him to stop but it was too late. He plunges his sword into the fleshy womb causing a bright light to blind Blake.

As her senses return, she found herself in another cave. Where she see's multiple soldiers dressed in what looked like French royalist and nobility. They fought against another nobility who transformed at will into mist at will. He moved around like a monster in the night. Slashing the throats of the soldiers or drinking their blood as their comrades watch in horror. It wasn't till one young private strikes the statue causing intense pain to the noble. As he screams one wounded noble managed to get a good slash with his sword, severing his arm and sending the count to the ground in agony as the statue fell, breaking into many pieces. The dust that kicked up caused Blake to choke, as her vision returns she found herself back on the orient, though it looked newer.

Looking around she wondered where she was till the lights went out. Her eye's slowly adjusted looking around for anything when something came crashing through the nearby door. A man dressed in an outdated military uniform fought against what could be only described as living shadows. His sword glowed with a blueish hue as he fought against the creatures. As he struggles a man of African descent was thrown from his room being strangled by another one of the creatures. His eyes glowed with a snake like tint as he struggles to break free. That's when a light illuminated from the hall that burned the creatures. Blake saw a familiar man. The same man whom a portrait was dedicated to hanged in the dinning car. He held a lantern with his shotgun, taking pot shots from the double-barrel assisting them in there battle against the shadow creatures.

As Blake watches she takes a few steps back only to bump into someone. Turning around she was horrified to find a man standing at eight feet, completely naked of his entire skin with the exclusion of a sickening blood red fez. It grabbed her by the throat before lifting her to his level. It spoke with an elongated tongue, much to Blakes horror it was in her voice as it was her tongue that waved between his lips.

"Y' ̶̝̝͉̗̲͍̬̱̦̀̈́̈́̽̌̓̈́́̆͐̈̚ͅe̶̡͉̞̘͈͕͓̙̮͔͒͑͑̓͋̀͂̂͗̀̓͘p̷̨̧͈̠̟̬̥̯̯͉̥̖̓̈͝ḧ̴̡͈͙̤͚̍̆͋̈̉͐͝͝á̷̧̧̬͉̩͖͎͖̗͈̥͗̋̓̅͜͠͝i̵̛̯̯͖̳̞̓͆̇̊̔͛͗͗͘͠n̷̢̡̡̲͓͈͉̙̰̄͌͊͗a̴̩̺̓̃̃̿̀̓͆̋̿̀̕̕f̵̟̳̠͙̺̠̰̳͂̀l̶̢̧͇̺͓͍̺̙̙̀̓̒̀̋̔̿̀́̓̚̚ ̷̯̝̋͆͐͂y̵̨̲̭͓̜͖̼̠͕̱̜͗͗̌̀̍̒͐͝m̶͓̣̱̮̺̫̞̱̅g̵̛̘̘̺̘̉̏̀̓̎̍͒͗͐̚͝'̶̧̩̰͙̺͎̯͒͗̈́́̃̏̅͝ͅ ̵͙̭͓̲̩̪͕̟̫̥̞̜̒̏̈́͌̈̔̿̑͘͝a̴̢̍̿́̏̂͒̓͠͝͝i̴̤͈̣̺͓͉͇̰͍̻̱̓̆ ̷̢̮͖̣͎͍̲̜̈́̍̓̊̚ò̵͙̹̗̯̓͂͠ț̵̈̀̎̈́̐͂͝ ̡̛̗̩͓͈̝͕̆̇̄͊̉͗́̀͊̌͠ș̴̨͎͚̎o̴̞̖̝̖̖̿̑̎̾̌̑̊́̈́̍̀͋t̵̡͙͓͙̪̭̼̜̩̱͊͋̏̿̄̔̑͗̀̆̕h̷̢̫͔͇͎̺͍̣̤͎̬̹͌̒̓̚.̴̠͎͖̬̅̌̌͝ ̟͇̤̟͎́̀̓ ̵̛̩̲͆̌͗̅N̶̡̩̤̳͈̱̫̩̺͐̽͒̐͛̈͒̓̐̄́͘oŕ̶̩̬̳̇́͐͌̄̂̉͛͂̚ ̳̆̈͂͂e̷̢̤̱͖̬̟̾͑̽̓̌̊̉̉̒͂͗͊p̴̧̡̛͖̱̮̬̾̓̂̌̊̑́͝h̴̛͎̫̭͋͆̃͆͜a̵̛͖͓̩͋͊͂̊̈́͆̍̒̆͝i̷͓̫̞̙̦̪̝̞͎͉̘̔̂̃͗͜Ỹ̲̝͖̝̦͍͔̟̤̙͖̈́̈́'̵̣̖̺͎̘͙̼̫͔̭̎̉͂̃͝ ̵̨͖͕̦̣̺̦̗͉̫̝̋y̡͎̪̞͚̙̼͖̫̆͗̽ḿ̵͕̿̄g̷̬̎͆̓͗͗́́̌̕'̷̢̢̼͙͙̥̞̭̘̤͌͜ ̷̧̛͓͔̭̥̺̠͎̲̤̻̟̾́̿̐͐̿̕̕ä̷̢̖i̷̧̹͉̦͔̦͔͕͓̰̓̾̍͊̋́͊̈́̇̏̒̕͜ o̵͈̘͕̣͚̻̻̪̭͕͂̊̈t ̶̠͕̰̤̝̜͙̦̱̞̑ͅḩ̷̡̣͔̼͈͙̖̱̪̟̐̀'̷̦͙͕̫́̀̄ ̶̯̝̟̋͂̈́̇͊̒͝͠ẹ̶̢͓̰͖̬̦̯̩̻̪͌̑̑̇͛h̵̙͖̫͉͚̟̗͗̀͊̚͝͝y̷̡̢̠͙̻̠͕̦̐͑͆̓̂͛̀͛̚e̷̪͒̈́̂͒͐̐̈́͘ẹ͕̺̖̰̌̅̄o̶͍̖̤̟̬͗̅g̵̨̛͕͙͙͒̽̇̑̇̓̃͆́̄ ̷̼͉͈͒̋̎̅̄́̈́͋̕͝͠ͅr̶̙̗̜͎̖̓͆̉̏̍̏̕͜'̵̛͙͇̘̾̈́́̿̊̆͋̈l͉̦͚̀̊̋̕u̴͇̘̹͖͔̜̍̉̓h̵̗̭̤͒̊h̶̦̘͍͇͓͇̪̓̽́̿̈́̈́̊̑̄̏̈́̚ͅ.̷͈̩͇̝̙̗̰̪̟̤͌̅͂͆̅̉̈́̀̾ ̶̧͎̹͓̼͛̚͜ ̵̧̛͉̀͛̎͆̇̉͘̕̚͝Ḁ̴̛͓̆͐̈́̅͌͆̀̿ḩ̵̧͔̮̬̽̀̈́̇͝h͍̤̣̥͖̰͙͙̮̣͙́̊͒̿͂̚ ̴̘̗̙̈̄̓̄̈̎̕ͅm̴̱̹̦̫̅́̒̓̔́g̨̠̤͖̝͓̯͍̜̞̘͇̈̋͊̈́͐ê̡͉͙̲̖̮̤͚̚h̶̰̣̹͎͈̟̟̙͉̔̄́̿y̶̢̻͇̣͊͊ė̵̗̄̋͑̍͛̈̚͝ ̷͕͙̰̬̹̖̜̀̒̒̅̂̚ỵ̷̧̜̭̫̭̘̻̭͓́͋̓̈́̍̈̓̃̎͝͠a̷̺̲̥̰̻̥̙̪̋̔̌́͜͝͠r̷̡̨̜̱̼̝͉̫͉͂͑͗̐̆͒̀̂́̚?̴͓͉̖̟̀̏̑̿̚̚ ̴̡̛͔̲̝͖̪̱̻̲͉͚̰̽̑̈̔̀Y̨̙̟̣̜͖̖̰̟͓͕̪̌͂͛̂̈'͇̤̭̟̦̱̯'̨̧̰̺̰̦̗͓̗̹̜̥̉̇̃̒̍͗͘͝m̵̘͍̜̑̇̒̓̐̇̀́͌͠ ̡̣̼͎̩̭̤̼̮̜̟̋̀͆̊n̷̛͕̲̱͎̮͉̂̃̋͌̀͛̇͝a̟̖̬̮̗͈̹̋f̶̺̘͇͕̤̺̗̼̤̟̈́̋̒̚͜͝ͅl̵̼̹̩͓̹̀̓͘ ļ̡̱̼͚͙̤̜̤̞͚̣̈̌̿'̼̺̀̓͛̓̉͑͋̒͝ ̹͕̘͕͓̗̌͐̈́̋́̔͜͝b̴̳̫̞̏û̵̧̮̤͗̅̒͗͊̊̊̓͜͝͝ͅĝ̡̻̥̾͋̉͝ ̴̝͙̮̩̣͖̲͛̎m̩̥̘̜͇̂g̷̩̲͔͚͕̰̘̉̉͆́̿̍̈́̓̃̓̔ȩ̵̡̳͔̟̘̃̈́̀̉̕͜h͖̩͉͎̬̜͓̫̻̀ͅͅý̵̛͉̻̘͚͆͒͌̃̅ę̃͌̓̓̀͝ͅ ̷̢̡̗̣̘͉̙̟̏͒̔̅͐ͅh̷̰̞̗̀͑̂̓̂̋̉͘͜͝'̴̨̟͈͍̘̺̌̾ ̶̖̜̜̒̇̔̒̍͂̔͐ͅl̴̯̪̦̙̬͌͘͝ľ͇̾̽̌̚͘l̵̝̥̗̐͋̾́͂̎̓́̽͝l̴͎̠̮̎͒̎͋̉̔̕ ̴͎͔̯̪̪̟͕͕̬͎͇͙̋͆̃̂͊̈́͋̂̍͌̒l̴̟̱͙̝̝͔̠̲͆̀̀̈́͐͛́̾̈́̚ͅo̴̡̢̗̝̩̗͇͆͋̈́̾̽̑͑̾̎w̷̡̗͎͙̗͕͎̮̉l̶̛̜̐̉̍̍̐̈́̕͝y̵̠̱̭̭̅͆̑̂͑͛͛̄͘͠ ̶̱͈̦͐͋̇̌̓̏̽̃̚y̵̧̳̮͕͙͓͛͊̽̉͗̆̕͜͜m̶̲̥̻̪͇̠̉g̵̢͈̘̫̝̀̆̌̄̓̀̑̽͊̚͝'̵̡̢̞͓̣͕̈̇̒̋̅͒̎̀̓͒͜.̵̙͕̝̪͓̯̞̥̱̺̔̄̈̎̀͜͝ ̷̦̓̈ ̷͖͓̟̥̮͈̎̿Ỳ͔͕̲̘̃́̍̔͂̏̈́͒͠m̶͚̜͕̲͙̳̽̎̆̈́͜ĝ̘̊̽̍̉͗̚'̴̧̨͎͚̝̠̗̆̑̀̓͠'̷͇͎͍̺̠͂̎͂͂͂̄̈̄͘͠͠ͅļ̶̡̥̜̞͖̜̰̘̅̌͊̃̈́̃̉̀͑̌̚̕l̶̪̤̳̞̭͔̔̉̓̔͒͌̐̀͐͆ ̵̬̹̼̦͚̀̃̋̌̽͑͒̚̚ľ̷̡̡̢̙̳̻̮̭̭̲̗̉́̓̎͑̎̾̂͘͜͠l̴̡͔̹̿̌̌̐̀̋̈̚ĺ̮̤̯͈̣͚̻͔̔̊̌̅̿l̷̨̡̢͎̘̹̓̊̂̍͂͘ ̵̖͙̞̋͊̀͊̊͌̄̒̎͑a̵̛̠͈͉͍̞͍̩̙̲̠̐́̿͋͂̄̃́͛ͅḩ̷̻̌̈́͌͑͊͑͂̓̑̀́̚'̶̨̢͈̭͙̝̦͖̀̋̽̾̓̊͒̎ļ̷̡̜̒̽̊̚w̷̢̺͍͖͚͕̝̞̹̐̒̊͌͆̉̆͌͋͒'̵̛̠͖͉̋̿͛͌̈́̈̕͠n̵̨̛͚̳͕͚̗͚̥̩̣̊͂̎̓͑̆̊̓a̷̤̱̒͒̂̋̈́f̴͇̗́̒͊̐̈̂̾͠ͅh̵͖̠̿̓̔͌̔̐̉̂͠ ̴̡̰̦͔̱̖̳̩͔̙͚̒̈́̀͊̀͒̃ä̧̀̓̔̓͛͝h̷̗͈̘̃͛̓͋̀́̂́̈̉̋͝f̷͈̞͖̫̹̪̰̼̫͆͐̄̃̿͜͜'̴̠̞͙̗͙̰̅́͆̉͌́͂̒̕͝?̵̡̣̘̩͙̗͆̂ ̵̧̫͍͎̰͇̗̈́̒͌̕͝ṭ̷̨̧͙̪͓͙͖͙̎w̴̨̛̟̺̯̘͔̥̰͕̣̓̍̒͊̍̐̊̓͜ͅë͍̻̫͙̞̭̻̫͉͋̇̈n̳̪̳̹̻͉͔͖̙̉̑̀͝ͅṫ̶̨̪̯͆̄̃ͅỵ̵̺͙͈̠̀̎̊̅̽̀̄́̌̇͝,̴̥͚͌̈́̃̊̍͛͒̍̊ ̖͉̳͖͔̖̋t̶̫̳̮͗̈́̉h̷̙̭̝̣͙̼͆͑́̈́͐ͅi̺̋̉̋͐͐́̀̒r̶̨͕̗̞̱̤̟̗̱̄̈͑͊̀͜ẗ̶̗́͆͛̕̕y̴̛͕̺̰̩̱̳͖͚̯͙̑͒̐̽̚͜ ̴̢̧̩̗͖̣͇͐̄̈́̍̚y̴̡͈͈̪̲̤͆̑̏̄̄̈̿͜͝ͅͅ'̷̧̛͔͚̲̣̝̰̄ȍ̴̩̣͎̬͚̞̼̩̭̹͜r̷̛̳̟̻̪̟͙̜̙̎̊̀͗͘͝'̴̭̼͂͌̑͜n̴͉͉̻͉̳̈́̀̍ǎ̢̠̥̠͚̪͖̠̿̌́̅̎̄̄̑͂͠hh̵̡̨̢̡̛̞̤̮͚̙͍̤̱̑͂́̊̈̆͌́͐͐̀ ̷̢̯̤͇̠̅̆̀͂̓́̚͠l̶̛̛͇̺͉̱̄̋̑͒̈̒l͈͚̈l̷̤̲̟͒̋̓̈́͋̾̽͆ͅl̢̟͔͖͙͎̗̯̭̳̦̗̂̽̈́ ̷̛̳̈́̓a̷̛̟̠̥̘̼̱̺͛͊̈͂̽̕̕̕̚͠h̵̩͕̹͙̙̹̠̫̪̏͆͌͌̇͆̔̎̇͌̎̅͜ọ̧̫̹̘̻̤̘̆ͅģ̷̭̱͎͈͓͔̤̱̘̫̈́̆̊̊̏̋́̓̈́͊̆́ỏ̙̬̭̥̅̃̎͑́͜g̵͙͉̱͊̄̍͂̀̒̋̈́.̷̨̞͓̟͚̙́̆́͐̓̐̈͑͝ͅ ̷̨̨͚̥͙͙͎͎̅̐̈́̒̋̅̾ ̶̝̺̅͒̒͆͝Y̶̧͕̦̹̳͕̤͂̑͂̐̋̋̕̚͝͝͝ͅḿ̲̠̥̙͒̑̅͋̅͊̅̎͑́͠g̩̮͔̝̣͉͙͙̀̓̏̈̇̽̾͝'̷̧̢͕͚͎̮͕̥̩͉̰̎̈́͊̒̌̆̾̚͠ ̴̬̤̹͊̆̑̽̉̓͑m̳͓̺gȩ̴̑̃̑̃͆͝p̷̥̘̺̀̒̈́͋͝ ̷̳̓͛̐̔͊̈́̊͝s̵̼̰̠̔̀́͗̆̏̚͘͝ǫ̵̧̟̉̿̅̚̚ť̡̧̧͎̻̺̱͉͙͙͔́̄̾̒̆̕̕͠ͅh̶̦͚̰͎̖͔͕̙̪̼͔̦̑̅̿ ̶̢̣̔̽͋̀̅͆̀̄͝Y̵̧̤̙̪̥̗͓̞̣̱͇̪͂͋̓̆̏̾͂'̷͍̾͐̎͌ ̷̢̪̭͈͔͍̪̫̈́̃͌̀͑̌̈́̆̌̈́̅g̡͔͕̟͔̖̫̠̠͓̈̎̓͋̏͝o̷͕̰͚͕͔͙͔̫͗̓̉͗̚ṱ̷͚̘̣̭̲̐͒͂̐̋̀͊̉͌͘ḩ̴͉̪̘͈͕̮͚̟͆̽̆̎̈́̕͝ͅà̴̻͐̀͠ ̷̢̹̥̦̮̩̲̯̠̭̽̆̓̍̕ͅc̢̼̗̩̝̹̘̼̝̃͂̊̄̿̿̚ã̧͙̩̮̙̮̤̺̊̾̾̔͐̋̾͋͝ḧ̷̡̲̫͙̰̩̩̜͇͉͗͌͛̒̕̕f̴̯͊͐̈́͘ Ỹ̡̛͒̄̈͂̇̅̒̑̌'̷̢̢̟͖̜̼̜͔̣̜͖̝̋͒͆̌̈̈́͒̃͠ ̷̥̜̝̖͙̺̔̀̎͊͂̓͘a̶̛̫̩̔͂̊͗̈́̃͠͠h̴̨̡̩̰̯͈͎̠̠͇̹̹̔ ̶̨̡̧͈͎̳͇̱̭̀̿̀̄̕ͅṇ͈ã̵̠̑̆͑̕̚f̶̛͇̺͖̮̘̟̔͊̓̑̋̅̚l̶̡̹̻̖̖͋̈̃̉̆͐͊̽̑̆̈́̌ ̶͔̮̳͎̩̠͙͙̻͐́̂̆͒̂͗̿͊͘͠ͅä̶͖̻͈́͒̏̈́̏̒l̷͈̜͈͚̐̓̈́͐̃͗͋͆͜͜ͅre̵̺̹̤̲̖̩͙̳̖̟͋̓͐͆͜ȁ̷̡̨̲̲͓̥͈͓̘̦̆͋ḍ̶̛̐̆̂̋̋̍̕y̷̻̪͕̭̝̝̗̜̟͆ ̴̡͍̤̖̒̅͒̕ͅḿ̴̳̲͔̺̠͍͇̘͇͎̋̀̑̈́̀̐͐́͊ͅḡ̷̡̨̠͓̰͎̯̥͙̣̪͗ȩ̶̢̡̦͍̯̲͉̪͚̖̰̂̓̈́̽̋̿̏́̍̕p̶̫̩̻̠̓̾̀͘͝͝" It said in her voice. Horrifical calm in tone as he stares with darken eyes at Blake who struggled to break free. It then smiles a wicked smile as a third eye opens on the forehead below the rotting smelling fez. It then Spoke in a sinister voice. "V̴̢̛̘͎͕̳͙͖̟̜̯͉͖̌̓̀̀̂̆̈͂͗́u̶͓̐͛̀͑̇̃̓ḽ̵͙͕̻̂̅̂̍̿͂̉̅̅g̶̣̺̥̫͉͒͛ẗ̶̡̗͎̫̭̣̗͐͘m̵̝͉̣̺̭̦̈́͗̓͂͋́͝ň̷̦͖̺̃̓̍̋̍̚ạ̵̹̦̬̝̅͜h̵̡͔̤͋͗͊̌͆̑̃̆̈̒̾͐,̵̧͈̟͈̪͍̰̣͉̟̭͌͑́̀̒̕͝ ̵̫̩̭͔̬͔̅́͑̍̓̓̍̕͘ͅmȧ̷̢̘͎̪̫̺̯y̵̛̺̯̯̜̪̺̙͌̍̒̎̃̓̈́̕b̴̧̘̝̯͓͇̮͚̘͙̳̉͐͐̈́͠ë̵̼́͗̆́̄͑͑͠͝ ̢̣͙̫̻̘̈̽̀͑̍̅̊̚̚ͅỹ̛̖̀̆͒̈͊̅ḿ̶͉̀g̴̠̑ͅ' ̴̧̗͗̃͝ṃ̷͐͗̿̐͂̐͜͝ĝ̢̡̞̟̱̩̳̯̣̟̲͐͂̏̓̋͑ḛ̵̡͙͎͍̞̎̊̉̓p̶͎͕̺̅ ̴͙̪̯̬̙̣̭̤̈́̾͑̍̐̉̍̔͑̕̚͠ẹ̵̟̮͍͕͌hy̴̰̯͎̲̗̏̒̽̋̓̈́̍̇͘͠͝ẽ̶̝̄́͆͊͂̇́́͘͠͝ ̷̨̣̲̗͔̭͓̃͋̔̈͜͝͝h̴̢̖̤̆̈́͊̿̿̈͝n̴͗̏̉̽̿̂̐ͅa̶̛̼͖̣̙͂ͅh̷̨̰̤̠͓͔̄̆͘͝.̶̡̟͙͔̰̗̤̳̲͔̟̿̇͂̅͌̑́̏͠ ̶͔͔̭̫͎̮͚̱̱͈̤̘̈́͑͐ ̶̛͓̤̞̞̲̩̗̀̒̀Y̷̛͎̾m̶̛̝̿̽̀̊̂̓ǵ̶̛͔̤̪̼͕̂̐͊̄̉̀'̶̧̲̫͕̹̰̞̱̟̙͕̋͐̊̍ͅ ͇̌m̶̟͊g̨̡̨͙̙͉̱̉̾̋̌͋̾̕ṟ̷̻̣̻͚̱̱̜̙̝̀͜'̴̧̏͌͊̔͆́͠l̵̦͎̣̟͔̹͚̗̒ų̶̨̺̙̭̠̖̗͔́͐͊̃̿͂̎͐̈̚͝ͅh̶̡̳͓͍̯͉̜̬͒́̓ ̷̪̰͎̑̄̍̅̈w̶̡̨̛̭̹̥̪͎͖̯̥̏̎̓͐̑̍̆͘͜r̮̘̲̩̹͎̮̮͚͚̯͔̋̔͐͗̚͠͝i̴̢͋ṯ̵͓́̈́͗̓̓͆̓͆͛͛͝h̴͎̤̯́̒͗̿ȋ̷̢̳̬̹̬͋͛̈̇̒̑͂̄̾͒͝n̴̼̒̈̿̅͛g̶̯̱͔̻̣̫͉̯̟̅ͅͅ ̶̛͎̊̐̍́̍̓́̔͑͠p͈͇̯̤͔̠̜̰̆͂̒̇̀̀͐̑̎̒͜h̶̨͓͖̮̼̭̺̙̍̓̅̿͂̇̃̃͝͝ͅ'̷̼̤̈ǹ̵̺̜̥̗͎̯̓̌̈́̄͐̊̊g̵̲̳̘͙̫̹̣̙͐̎̓̍̀̈̔̀͊̔͘͝l̵͕̐͋̀͛ư̡͇̻̦̻͉̈͋̀̉͋̀́̿̚i̵̢͈̟̥͙͔̳͕̘͇̳͂̽͊̀̋͘ ̴̡̥̰͐͗́͗͂̈́͜ag̶̙̫͚̰͖͕̘͖͗͊̅̎̀̋ͅo̴͇͒͗̍̎̿̉̎͊̚̚n̵̜̠̞̳͍̣̞͓͗͐͑́͒͜ỵ̴͈͔̞̜̤̙̥̒́̐̈ ̵̘͍̝͔̼̘̤̞͚̆̌̈̾̑͐͊̽͘͜͜͝p̷̦̊͌͝h̷͚̞̖̞̰̖͈̬̻͙̏̉̊̾̍̏͋̾͋͝'̶̤͕̩͓̕̚h̷̯̯̭͈͚̬̳̠̮̗͂̔͊̍̕a̵̧̛̜͇̟̟̻̭̱̟̋́į̵̢̡͖̯̭̥͈̰͊̈́̈͐͛̍ͅ ̱̟̩̹̳̦̯̠͉̠͔͖̀̐͌n̶͚̻̼̺̗̯̗͆̑̀̎̽̄̍͗̂̈́͘ͅą̴̝̫͎̬̘̪͗̆̿͌͝fl̴͚͔̘̃̐͑̕̚ ̶̢̲̻̝̼͉̜̾̀̒p̡̦̤̥̭̤̣̙̩̤̺̳̋̆̉̿̑̒̿̓h̵̡̻̹͓͌̇̇̈̈́̓̔'̵͎̭̣̟̽̇͊́̿̃̓̚̚ṉ̴̤̱̱͎̩̝̲̻̪̔̎̉̈́́̽̕͝ǵ̵̡̯͙̼̝̪̼̑̐̓͊́̇̐̚ļ̰͍͖̘͖̋̏̇̏̎͘u̴̲̳̲̻̎̇͌͗̔̾͐͘̚͝i̴̜̟͇͙̺̦̠̫̇ͅ ̢̬̭͎̘̋͆̆͝ľ̛̜̻̼̳̯͉̞̌̌͑͆̃͛̒̊͜͝ͅͅí͖͓̹͙͕̘ ̴̡̖̹̘̺̺̲͚͊͌͛͗̀͌̓̕͝ͅa̷͓͚̠̐̍̑͗͠h̷̭̀̇͒́.̴̡̛͚̜̥͔̣͔̟͉͇̊̓͛̍͒̀̑̋͘ ̵̲̎̆͗̐͑͊̎̎̿̕̚͝ ̴̧͓̹̠͖̱̯̪͕̏͛̐̈́̒̏̊ĺ̛̞̅̀̊l̷̻̫̭̂͗̇͊̈́̈́͝͝l̶͕̩̒̎̎͛͐́̊̓͊ļ̶̠̮̦̱͓̆ͅẇ̷̧̧͚̟̺͔͈̠͖̲̝̜͆̉͠'̵̱͋̍n̶̞̫̙̻̱̓̌͂̿ą̵̦̩̩͓͇̥̝̤̤͌̌͝͝f̛͔̤̋̅̀̄̏́͑̓̽͊ḧ̤̱̮̍̏͑̅̚ͅ,̷̢͖͍̦̈̅̓̈́̚͝ ̴̤̙̺̳͇͈̮͕͑̆͊̇̂͌l̶̼̭̠̥̃͌̿̀͆̀̕͘͠l̵͕̙͖̠̞̭͔̔̽ĺ̴̛͎̗̫͛̑̀̈̂͜ͅͅl̴̡̩̟̯̿̅̋́͗ ̵͉̜̺̃̈́̀͂̿̿̇̌͘h̵̠̻̻͛̐̈́̿̊̌͘͝a̵̘̩̫͕̎̃̒̓̔͠i̦̜̟̗ͅ "

It then drops Blake to the ground as she gasps for breath. As she does the Skinless one kneels behind her and forced her to look him in the eye where he speaks in English. "Ţ̶͖͉̥̟̲̱͚̂͗͋͊̾̈̽̂̏̈́̚ô̷͕̱͕̳͔͓̍̈́̾̀̀̈́͌͋͘͝ ͔̝̉͆̇́̿̄́͝͝t̬͙̬̞͇̣̥̘̀͗̊̈́̇̕͝h̷͉̝̭͛̽̿̃̌̅̄͐͜e̴͔͂̅ ̥̪́̆̉̐̕v̵̛̩̟͌͌̄̋̒̎̑̚͠ḭ͓̤͉̠͕̙̤̘̩̂̑͘͘c̵̛̦͇̉͐͆̔̀͊͋͗̊͝͝t̷͕̠̼̟͖͂ǫ̴͉̦̟̰̬̘̘̯̂ŗ̴̨̗̺͒̀ ̶̢̧̠͕̟̼̤̪̭̭̫̰̎̎͗̄̑̄̂̎̎g̶̡̲̦̖̩͍͈̘͓̉̀͐̈́̀̍̐̚͜ͅǫ͎͓̭̃̑̌̈́e̴̢͎̯̮̤̳̥͗̍̋͆̔̇̿͑̔̾̚ş̵̤͖̰͙̟̄̈́͐̑̌̆͋̚͜͜ ̶̧͇̻̝̋t̪̗́̇̉̔̓ḩ̷̛͔̈́̉͛̏̽̿e̶̡̩͎̙͈̥̪̝̬̽̆̅́̂̀͒̿͋̐͋͜͠ ̷̡̛̙̳̯͈̻͇̻̍͌̔̌͌̏̈̇̕ͅs̶͔̏͐̈́̆̒́p̶̧̙̩̩̺͕̙̞̜̠̺̈́̓͗̀̌̃̏̋̇͒̚õ͉̂͊͊͂̀̽̚̕͠ỉ͈̹̖͕̩͚͕͗̎̊͝ͅl̷͉̙̼̜͉̙̍̆̄̆̌̓͝͝s̶̡̖̭͚̙͙͓̣̒̒̆̈.̴̨̮͊̋́̃̑̉̚ ̴͉̟̫͖̌Ÿ̴̧̡̻̟̙̠͓̩͔̞̀͐̂͒̕oų̝̟͍̝̘̱̙̩̪̟̆́̈́́̎̑̇͋̚͠ͅ ̵̡̙̥͈̮̣̗̖̘̼̼̟̌̂̉̓́̀̌̀͘k̶̩̠̝̼̙̪̅̽͒̿n̴̻̺̩̤̰̞͔̜̖͐͋͘͝ͅơ̴̢̢͕̞͕̯͉͓͎̮̫̬͆͒̉́̇̌͛̊̏̅͝w̶͍̭̪͖͑̐͆̈́̉̈̐͝ͅ ̷̜̘̫͕͙̈́̎̈͐́̉͋̈́̈͋͋͘t̷̡̧̲̼̯͔̯̘̦̙͍̀͗̇̒͆̎̎̕ḥ̴̜̭̗͖͓̍͋ă̴̺̝̱͇̦̻̝̘̟̰̬̎̌̏́̓̄̑̈́̋͘̕t̵̢̰̣̘̲̬̅̌̌͑͗̎͝ ̵̛̟̩̪͒w̴̛̖̿̂ȩ̴̛̰̘͉͈͙̻͎̻̽ļ̶͓̼̩̤̰̠̔͋̅̅̃̿ͅl̴̨̻̱͎̬̥̹͕͛͐͒͘̕͠.̵͕̐̑̋ ̶̢̦͍̞̤̠̓̽̈́̉̑̀̈Ḅù̴̱̟̮͖̻́̒̍́͘͠͝t̴̬͈͇̫̱̄̂̑͋̓̂̓͜ ̴̢̺͍̳͍̥͊̿ͅe̷̻̙͉̦̺̎̀̎͐͒̉v̭͍̲͉̫̭͍̬̹̜̀̈́̿ḛ̵̘͙̖͚̤̗͇̳̏̀̄͜ͅŗ̴̙͔̆͑̂̉y̷̛͖͕͑͒̑͛͛̋͌̊̋̆t̷̤̏͠h̷̹̹͍̓͋̓̐̓̄̓̃̂͝i͇͉̯͚n̳̩̲̭̭̠̞̜̻g̴̢̡̡̲̠̜͈̦͚̦̋̾̕͜͠ ̴̧̢̣̰͚̮̝̹̺́͐̊̾͊̅̂͝͝ͅè̵̞̭̳̫̪̲̱͚̈́̍̎́͗̚̕͘̕͝l̷̨͇͍͖̤̺̙͙̀͑s̵̠͉̻̫̖̖̜̮̍ė̶̟̲̆ ̵̨̈́̀́̕͠b̵͎̳͖̳̟̘͔̞̼̪̲̌̏͜e̴͈̼̽̿ĺ̷̗̪͔̈̅́͋̅̉̄͘͠ö̷̰́̍͋̋̑n̴̛̗̂̔̽g̶̢̢̠̘̲͎̫̹̲̖̾͋̏͠ͅs̵̨̧̧͚̭̦̞͖̉̄̑́̆̚ ̶̨̩͉̤̙͖̮̳͖̔͌̂͜ͅt̶̯͍́̏̐̾̂́͘͠ǫ̴̳͈́̂̿́͌́ ̳m̴̡͔̙̜̾̿̿͊͑͗ę̣̰̜̯̠͇̝ͅ.̴̢̨̦̲̀̈͐̀̕͠ ̷̼̹͌̇̔̑͒̐̀͋̓͊̕͝B̵̦̖̯͈̫̜́ͅe̷͇̝̩͚͉̱̮͂̀́̑́c̵̲̞̻̩̥̈͠ą̶̛̲̠̝͈̺͎͚̒̄ų̨̜̦̻̃̅̽̇̐̓̔͘͘̕͜ͅs̴̢͕̘̯͕̼̪̲̹̟̿͑̿̆́͛͑̔͌͜e̷̫̹͓̪̪̳̔̊̌̀͆̆̍͗͆̽͝ͅ ̴̝̥̩̦̪̙͆d͙͔̠̤̝͚̳͙̆̂̉͝ȩ̵̛̄̋͛̏ą̶͔̻͈̮͓͕̖̙̲̀̈͒̚t̷̪̜͙͛̍͋̍h̛̤̻̙͇̝̝̮̜͇̱̃̓̄̒̒̐͠ ̴̧̼̱̻͚̻̤̙̿͜i̷̥̭̘̗̦͐̄͝s̴̛̠̝̞̩̦͑͆̓́̐̔́̀̊́ ̴̨̱̗͎̹̥͆̀̍̂͛͋̄̽̍n̴̟͉͍̖̫͌̓̄̆͘ͅọ̷̞̫͆t͇̟̆̔́̕͝ ̴̺̔͑͆͆̅t̷̙̘̻͇͍̉̏̆̾͘͘h̷͚͎͖̑̇̆̌̑́̈̅̒̒͠͝e ̶̠̳̹͚́̒̓̒̋̍͐̓̾͜ͅe̴̛͔͉͓͇̮̐̃͊͒̋̊̅͜n̷̨̢̢̖̳̭͍̪̬̞̣̏ͅḍ̲͙̆̃̓̇̏̄.̴̢̛̛̝̣͇̱̣̙͚̺͊̌͊̊͊͜͝ͅ ̷̧̢̘̦̫͇̗̘̍͆̿͗I̷̛͉̙̯͍̹͒̃͑̋͆̉̾͒͑͘͜͝t̶̘̖̮͈͎̱̙̗̻̦͉̒̽̓͋̉́̓̽̓͘͜͝ ̦̘̙͇̘̗͜ͅį̷̲̙͇͓̜̟͙̫̞͎̈́͛͘s̵̈́̀̓́ͅ ̵̡̮̯̹͎̹̩̻̥̌̃͆͗͜ţ̵̣̬̅ͅhe̵̛̠͕̜̝̪̣̬͉̬̊̀ ̴̨̨̪̗͖̦͆̔̽͒̉̔́͠b̴̛̗̺͑̌̍̒̓͊̔ę̶̦̞̥͍͈̊̈́͌̌̓̃ǧ̢̟̞̻̳̻͈̠͇̘̄͝į̴̫̻͉̜̞͙̤͆n̴̨̳͉̹̞̥͚̱̬̥̤̑̾̏̏̈̋͛̓̀̈ņ̷̬̘͔̹̲̒̾̚͠i̵̧̓͛̉̓̇̃͒́͋͂̊͝n̵̡̛̖̘̞͓̖̲̥͂̇̌̓̿̐̄͒̚̕͜ͅg.̷͎͇̪̜͕̤́͛̎̐͐͜ ̴̢̨̡̜̺̖̰̫̇̈̆̐͗͘͘͜͠A̶͓̱͔͍̖͋ņ̴̢͔̹͎̻̇̅̽̈͊̅̐̒̒͘d̷̤̰͇̩͓̈̽͋̏̎ ̶̟̈́͋̐̅̓̓̈́t̵̨̨͈̠̀̇͆̅̑͒ḩ̵̡̞̜̩̟̻̖̯͉̩͙̈̊͌͗̐͗͆̕͝ȩ̷̖̠̠͉͚͙̩̩̎͠ ̴̼͙͖̜͚̦̺̉̋̀͗o̵̺̪̩̖͍̙̤̭͉̔̃́̌̿̾̿̓̒͒̓͜͜͠ͅn̡̬͙̮̠̫͙̱̲̆̈́͛̓̓̊̏̎̾̌̚l̵̢̻͙̲͓̤̗̬̼̗̏̏͋̃͋͂͆̚y̵͚̪̤͈̙̗̣̘̠̤͐̎̿̾̄͆͠ ̵̡͖͕̫͓́̆̽̂̽̌̔̈́͘̚̚c̵̹̫̟͚̗͙͂̅̈́͂̈́͘̚͠õ̘̬̻̯͈̘͍͈̣̮͌̏̈́̇̿̈́ͅñ̨̩̗͔̗͖̈̋̅̐̉̓͑̉͘͜ş̶̣̦͕̞͍̣́̎͑̈̓̌̕ţ̴̝̝͚͚̪̭̙̝͇̍̂̍̆͒́̀̊̏̒͆̚á̹̲͙̩̪͙̱̆̍͌̈͒̕n̷̪̤͕̙̐̾͊͆͌͂͋̀ť̴̤͙̩̗͗̃̅̌͜ ̵̠͍̞̝͕͕̠̀̈́̒͐̈́͑͆͝͝į̨͎̖̺̩̯͖͇͎͈̃̏̾̊͗͌s̶͎͈͙͔̞̭͖̼͇̣̍̀̌̈́͋͊.͕̗̘̉̀͊͆̇̍̂͘͝.̵̡͈̻̬̺̜͖̤̹̼͎̂̏͂͜.̷̨̛͔̜̻̹̠̬̹͚̅͋̔́̂͆͌͋͌̕͝ ̷̰̥͈͗͋̽́̇̊͌͑̊͝͝M̴̤̤̣̙̠̞̤͕͕͇̤̤͋̇̚̚͝É̴͉̠̝̰̟͉̜̼̰̪̈ͅ.̶̛̙͚̗̻̣͓̼̖͉̤̩̐̾̍̏̒͒̑͘̚"

As he speaks Blakes mind is flooded with images of the night sky being consumed into a white like void. Earth about to be devoured as something horrible emerges from the waters. A beast that she could not describe. It was as if some angry and terrible god formed an entity of man, dragon, and octopus to form some evil being. The horror of seeing such a thing was to much to bare and her eyes exploded into red paste as she silently screams.

February 6th, 1925, Venice Italy

The horror of what she saw awoke her from this feverish dream, looking around she was glad to find herself back in the safety of the train but as she catches her breath, pain remerges from her arm. Looking down she found that it had been bandaged but her aura struggled to stop the pain. As she was about to press her arm against the wound a voice called out to her.

"Your awake. Good. Shit just happened while you were having your cat nap." FEB spoke up drawing Blakes attention. He then handed her note pad as she clearly has a few questions.

"What happened?" Blake wrote before presenting the paper.

"You died. Or more accurately someone who looked like you." FEB explains causing Blake eyebrow to raise. "Other than dinner was poisoned only one died while the rest had a terrible case of indigestion."

Blake rolled her eyes as she was about to get up when she noticed something. FEB had a rather crocked nose and some blood stains coming out from under his nose. A little nervous Blake wrote on her paper, nearly smudging it as the train begins to leave for Milan. Holding up the paper it asked, "What happened to you?"

"I found out about your death from the same man who's been watching your friend. He did not like when I suggested his wife of being a possible spy, he… did not take it well. For a Froggie he sure has one mean punch." FEB explains almost earning a snicker from Blake.

"Ha ha, we are nearing our destination so if your done sleeping we got work to do." FEB said as he gets up.

"A little eager to finish the mission FEB?" Blake wrote as she held up her note.

"I was nearly strangled by your foreskin. I just want to beat the cunt and find a quiet winery before you and that twat drag me to god knows where next." FEB says in an annoyed tone. Blake rolled her eyes. She and FEB just walked out only for her to spot two figures entering another cabin. Blake recognizes them as some of the cultist who attacked her. She motioned FEB to them, to which he gives a nod.

They walked over to the door and with weapons at the ready. Not sure what to do FEB knocked on the door.

"Kim o?" A voice called out.

"Jehovah's Witness!" FEB called back before trying hard not to vomit by saying that.

After a few moments, the cultist opened the door to try and shoo whoever was knocking, only for Blake to stab him in the throat with Gambol shroud. Inside there were two other cultists, who reacted quickly but not quick enough. FEB rushed in and slammed both into the door. As the struggled to recover, Blake rushed in, and cuts open the lock on the entry door. With it gone the two in sync gave a strong kick that sent the cultist flying out.

"Three down, fuck knows how many left." FEB remarks as he turns to grab the dead cultist and unceremoniously throws his body out the door into the Italian countryside.

Blake rolls her eyes but then heard something with her Faunas hearing. Sounds like the muffle screams of someone inside the closet. Motioning FEB, the two approach the closet as FEB slowly opens the door. They jumped back as a man bound by his own wrist and ancles fell out. Literally. The skin was fused together as if it were natural. His lips as well, muting the poor soul.

"Hey, I know you. Um, John, er, Jerk, Jacque? Jack! The fecking annoying prick with the camera. The hell happen to you son?" FEB said as he tries to remember Jack Gatling's name. Jack could only mumble as his lips had fused so tightly together. Needing him to talk Blake pulled out Gambol shroud in sickle mode. Motioning for FEB to hold him down as he panicked. "(Sigh) son, just hold still. The lass will try and make this as painless as possible."

Jack cried out as blood ran from his lips, screaming bloody murder. As she turns to the wrists and ancles. Trying hard not to cut an artery. As she finishes, Jack wept for a few moments while Blake wrote something down on her paper. Presenting it to Jack it read, "What happened to you?"

"… It was… the conductor, Soucard. He invited me into the back to give me some dirt on you and Nora… then his goons jumped me… tortured me. Changed me." Jack said in a mad raving as he reveals that most of his belly, chest and back skin had been pealed away to reveal bloody muscle. "I swear I saw my flesh crawl away, through the ventilation and cracks of the train. But then I saw it… a glimpse of his relic of debauchery."

"Relic? What a fucking moon shaped ass hole or a Jesus's mummified foreskin to suckle on?" FEB asked sarcastically.

"A… statue. Of ungodly origins." Jack said with tears in his eyes, this gained Blakes attention as Jack mutters aloud as the scene pulls down. "It's an ungodly thing. Despite it's still mouth it whispers many horrible secrets. I can see it now, when I close my eyes. The blood of centuries stains its body. It demands more and if not stopped it will devour us all… in the name of that Skinless maker."

At the front of the locomotive

As Jack finishes his mad rant the scene pulls down on a group of 24 Cultist that stood around the furnace of the locomotive. They were chanting something in a mixture of Turkish and Greek as four more brings a large crate. Opening it, they remove from it a large statue of unknown origins. Placing it against the furnace of the locomotive the head cultist who was none other than Soucard. With a few words he chants.

"Y' l' uln 'drn bthnkor ahna pure ot filth ng hair. Rend ymg' pure bthnkor l' hearth ng iron. C' tharanak mgep legethog r'luhhor ot shuggoth. Skinless ehye c' tharanak orr'eog" Soucard chants as the statue begins to glow, transforming the entire locomotive from iron and steel into flesh and bone. The scene cuts to black as the fireplace turned into an open mouth with a piercing eye staring on.

"HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE'SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS Henri! Well, it seems we are closing to the final destination. Hopefully this little side track on Madame Belladona fills in a few blanks on what happened on board my beloved Orient express. And that dread item brough aboard it. Now, we will begin the final destination. Till we arrive I shall answer all question and comments.

De l'honorable: Black Cross0: Well… not exactly Monsieur Black Cross. As the old euphémisme goes. There are two sides of the story. Though fear not this chapter is simply to fill in the background of what Agent Belladona and her 'Soaked' companion has been up to.

Merci en consideration Black Cross0.

De l'honorable Carre: 1. It is a pleasure.

2A. No, nothing so brutish. But if you are still inquisitive, may I recommend keeping a very close eye on Arc 17. Though I am obligated to inform you, that the number may change, as the author is adding arcs to the tale to space out characters growth.

2B. Quite, the story of the Sedefkar Simulacrum spans the centuries with the first mention of such an occult item appearing in 330 AD a week before the city of Constantinople adopted it's name. I would highly recommend either listening to the many podcast's or attempting to run such a game yourself. If memory serves correctly the author is writing a Illustration tale of Team RWBY and JNPR Playing the game on his Deviant art account.

2C. Oui, he has been using that as inspiration for most combat sequences.

3A. Why good sir, I'd never. The crawling chaos is strictly forbidden in this studio on the grounds that he made the Interns kill and skin one another for his own amusement. No I am a wayward soul who was recruited to help direct and inform Monsieur Wombag. That and he also requested my presence as a character in an upcoming arc dubbed, The Dreamland Express.

3B. I shall inform him of your approval. And the sent severed thumb.

Merci en consideration Carre.

Now that I have finished, I like to thank the following for serving as inspiration of this tale so similar to the tracks which la orient rides upon, twisted and sharp. Herr Crimson Weresloth, Mr. U.S Napalm Man, Monsieur Self-helper95, Monsieur Jay Cringe Keloid, Monsieur Qwetymalcomb67, Mr. Tunnelboi, Signore. Bullshark96. They have been the most gracious of commuters onboard the Orient and a great source of inspiration for this tale. Now with the custom of closing please favor and follow the story and leave a comment to which will be answered upon the following chapter.

Merci pour la lecture, from your host; Henri Peeters.