"Annoying... How peculiar."

Damian's voice was flat and emotionless, barely a whisper, as he examined the scorch marks that were burned into the wall of the warehouse.

His eyes were sunken, with dark bags, and his face was gaunt. He was a pale, tall man in his thirties with white hair. A white mask was wrapped around his face, and his body was wrapped in bandages.

The fourteen year-old blonde girl next to him was wearing a black school girl uniform with red highlights, and was looking at him with an expression of curiosity.

"Master?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Look at this, Alice," Damian whispered, his eyes not leaving the mark on the wall. "A strange phenomenon has occurred. Quite peculiar."

He took out his pocket knife, and made a small incision in his finger, before letting a few drops of blood fall onto the ground.

He knelt down and dipped his fingers in the crimson liquid. His hand began to shake as a purple glow emanated from it, and then, he suddenly began to cough violently.

Alice quickly handed him a tissue, and he coughed into it before handing it back to her.

She stared at it with wide eyes.

"Is it back, Master??" Alice asked, her face contorted in concern.

"It never left," Damian said with his best attempt at a smile, wiping the blood away from his mouth.

"I see. So it is spreading. How intriguing."

"Master?"

"Yes, my child?"

"Will you have enough medicine? Should I get the doctor again?"

"No, it is quite alright. My body has adapted to it. I no longer feel pain or fatigue from it," he replied.

How foolish, for a girl to have so much empathy, Damian thought.

"I am glad," she said, a small smile crossing her face.

Damian chuckled and shook his head. The girl had a soft spot for him, he knew, but it was misplaced. He was numb, save for the desire to create his final work of art.

He turned his attention back to the scorch marks.

It was quite fascinating to see. It appeared to be a form of pure energy discharge, but the damage was more severe than any sort of plasma weapon could produce. Whoever had incapacitated Warden and Hypertroph had likely been aware of their capabilities as well as his and Alice's, and had been able to prepare for a confrontation.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, focusing on the energy residue left by the blast. He could sense something else there.

He opened his eyes and looked at Alice, who was staring at him intently. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"A strange, yet familiar aura imprint."

"No."

"I see. Well, it appears that our little payday was whisked away. A pity. Still, I can make do with this."

Damian took out a piece of chalk from his pocket, and drew a symbol on the floor. It was a circle with a series of intricate lines, and then he put the chalk back.

He began to murmur a chant in a language unknown to anyone alive save for himself. Perhaps a few others. That would be rather interesting to stumble upon eventually.

The chalk began to glow a bright green color, and then, suddenly, the symbol was gone. A moment later, the area within the circle began to fill with a dark red liquid. Damian bent down, and with his bare hands, began to collect it in a vial he had produced from a coat pocket.

Alice watched with wide, curious eyes as Damian carefully corked the vial. He then stood back up, and looked at Alice with a small smile. "I cannot do much with this, but I will be able to do a little more than we could before. Enough to strengthen the hex on her, perhaps. But not enough for what I want. I do have an idea of how to fix that."

He gleefully clapped his hands, looking at Alice.

"Let us begin the next phase of our routine, shall we? You know what to do."

She smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I'll make preparations right away."

Suddenly, the sound of his radio crackling filled the room.

"Hey. Creepy McFuckface," the gruff, metallic voice of a woman said.

Alice glanced at the radio on his belt and frowned.

"What is it, Arsenal?" he answered dryly.

"Change of plans. I found a little hideout here with a note penned to me. Also got some interesting news from one of our madames on the ground," the voice replied.

Alice picked up a nearby piece of scrap metal and started fiddling with it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I see," Damian replied. "What does this change in our schedule entail?"

"Look. Just stand the hell down. I think it's one of the kids that we were after. I'm going to meet with him to discuss terms and see what we can do," she said. "But I don't think we're getting the Matsudaira kid."

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't think he wants to give her up. The kid knew I would call off the hunt as soon as I found this. Or when our girls called it in at J-town. Fucker is getting a piece of my mind for being an arrogant little shit."

"Then I shall continue layering my hexes, as planned," he said, smirking behind his mask.

"Stand. Down." Arsenal replied, growling. "I know your little trick. Don't you fucking dare, you creep."

"Very well. I shall leave it be, for now, then," he sighed.

Alice's eyebrows raised.

"You're actually listening to her?" she asked.

"It's best to keep the peace for now," he said, smiling at her. "It has been most amusing thus far."

He put the radio down, and began to pace the side street.

A note at a hideout, huh? He mused.

It must have been someone from the Order.

A boy who would make Arsenal call off the hunt for Matsudaira's daughter. He wondered who it was.

It didn't take long to put the pieces together.

He had seen a boy walk up to the group of teenagers. A boy who used Presence Erasure. The same boy that he had tried to hex with a curse, but he had failed, unlike the group of teenagers he'd whisked away.

It had to be him. It had to be that boy. There were not many people in this city that knew that skill, and even less who could use it. And whatever skill Red Masque had picked up that rendered him immune to most of Damian's magic must have passed onto his student.

It had to be that boy.

But there were still too many unknown variables to act upon.

The possible return of Red Masque's heir and protege had implications.

The Crimson Order had a large amount of influence, and if this boy was who he thought he was, then he was going to be the most important person in the city.

The most important person, save for himself, of course.

The implications of this were quite interesting. Very interesting indeed.

The civil war would end sooner than he thought, if that boy had truly returned. The Order would unify, and a powerful organization would emerge. The titan would come into play instead of fence sitting with the spoiled princess, and most of the newcomers would be routed out.

He glanced at his hand, and a wry smile crept up his face. The thought of being a part of the group that brought order back to the city was amusing.

But it would also be extremely boring in practice.

He chuckled to himself.

Boring boring boring boring boring boring ♪.

How utterly boring.

He was going to have his fun. His last hurrah. His final, magnum opus. He'd make a work that would outlive him.

And he would do it all, with the blood of the Order's two darling children on his hands. How ironic would it be to wipe out the last vestiges of that woman.

He laughed, and Alice looked up from the scrap metal.

"Is something the matter, Master?"

"Oh, nothing," Damian replied, walking down the side street.

Then, he paused, immediately drawing his weapon and aiming it at Alice. "Stand down."

"M-master?!"

He swung his athame at Alice. There was a brief flash of light, and the alleyway lit up as Alice screamed in fear.

"Impressive."

The voice that responded was deep and metallic, like the sound of a heavy metal drum. The tone was cold, calm, and emotionless.

A tall figure with a pair of eyes that glowed red in the darkness stared at the coalesced ball of sickly blood-red energy in his hand. Damian could tell the man's aura was a mixture of colors, but the one that stuck out to him was a dark, foreboding blue. It reminded him of a cold, calm lake.

"You've been stalking me," Damian said with a smile. "For a while. A week at the minimum, given your mastery over your aura's fluctuations. Quite the achievement."

The figure, cloaked in an outfit of pure black with only the red glow of his cybernetic eyes and the glint of his mask to distinguish his form in the night, cocked his head.

"To think you survived all this time. I didn't take you for slinking in the shadows while Mortifera Nox came to prominence, but it makes sense. The way you disappeared when she first arrived... You have my condolences for what happened to you," Damian chuckled. "And now you're here. I wonder what brings you to me, of all people?"

"You know who I am, then," he replied, the glowing red orbs shifting from side to side as he studied the surroundings, looking at the shadows around Damian and Alice. "Good. You've already made a connection to me, and know that I am not someone to trifle with."

"You're quite perceptive," Damian chuckled, tapping his chin. "Though I wonder how much of the man I read about remains inside you, or if you're just a shadow of the person you once were."

He looked down at Alice, who had fallen to her knees.

"Don't be alarmed, Alice," Damian said with a smile. "It's a long story. We are in no danger, and he is here as an ally."

Alice looked up at him, her expression fearful. She clutched her heart and shook, looking at him in fear and confusion. Damian patted her head, before kneeling down and putting a hand on her shoulder. "There there, my child. There there."

The tall, cloaked figure stepped out from the shadows and into the moonlight.

Damian could see now that the figure's face was still very much human. It was an expressionless, blank face, devoid of emotion. Damian's smile grew even wider. It was superior to his own narcissistic core. Blank and devoid of any trace of emotion or feeling. He liked that. He liked it very much. He had seen many things in his life, but never someone so perfectly empty.

The tall, cloaked figure spoke in a deep, metallic tone that reverberated in the air around them. "I have a business proposal for you, Death's Whisper."

"Oh? That's a moniker I've not heard in quite a while, but very well," he said with a chuckle. "And I suppose I shall hear you out. It's not every day that a veritable boogeyman and legend graces one's presence with a business offer."

He pulled Alice up from her knees, helping her to stand up straight before he gave the tall figure his full attention.

"I am aware of the contract you've accepted from the Crimson Order," the cyborg stated, his eyes staring into Damian's soul. "Red Masque stays the blood curse from Mortifera Nox that would have killed you, in return, you serve him."

"Yes, yes, and?"

"Red Masque is gone."

"So I've heard," Damian mused.

"The contract is void, as far as you're concerned," he continued.

Damian chuckled. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

The tall, cloaked figure's red eyes were fixed on Damian's.

"You will accept a new contract with me. In return for a service, you will have my protection. And a cure for the magic that's killing you, courtesy of a mutual acquaintance who owes me a favor. Do we have a deal?" he asked, extending a hand to him.

Damian approached the tall, cloaked figure, looking him in the eyes. "Yes. This line of work was starting to bore me, anyway. We have a deal. Do tell me more."

"The Cataclysm brought about it a new source of energy. You are aware of my own magnum opus," the figure said.

Damian's smile grew wider. "I do. The virus you developed - the one that was so infectious it was practically a small scale cataclysm. The virus you unleashed upon the world that wiped out Iberia. Yes. I'm well aware of it. I've heard whispers that the virus has been making a resurgence."

"That is correct."

"You want my help," Damian mused.

"Yes. I do. I have reason to believe the mystery of Teotihuacan, and the mysteries of the magic you discovered there will lead to an interesting outcome. And your knowledge will be of great benefit."

"I have some theories," Damian chuckled. "I'll humor your little project, then."

The two looked at each other for a moment, and then they shook hands.

"It will be a fruitful endeavor, Sanguine Sorcerer. It is a pleasure to do business with you."

"The pleasure is mine..."

He paused, grinning maniacally at the ghost standing before him.

"...Professor Lunatrix."