"The three horsemen of my apocalypse." Pearson mocked as he blew a ring of smoke.

"We've come to kill you." The Sheriff said

"To save your soul, help you get born again." The Chaplain commiserated

"As a vampire? As one of you?" Pearson asked

"Normal." The Governor smiled.

"What if I don't want to be Normal?" The words were panicked and doused with the awareness of his hopelessness.

"You don't know what you want." The Chaplain was a kindly old man, he had two tattoos on the back of his hands, on one side Mercy, on the other Truth.

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"Or what you need." The Governor stated firmly "Ambition, Obedience, Morality, you lack all this."

" And that makes you a danger; to yourself and to the Society." The Sheriff continued smoothly.

"I don't have any weapons. I'm harmless" Pearson protested

"You're a weapon, a weapon without sheath." The Sheriff pounced, grabbing Pearson's neck between his hands.

"I don't give a shit, Why should I be Norman! Why should I be like my brothers! They're all Normans!" Pearson struggled with the heavy set Sheriff.

"And you think you're too good for Normalcy?" The Governor stood on Pearson's legs, his lithe form belying monstrous strength "Don't be childish."

"We're here to help you." The Chaplain reassured the struggling man, his hands held down his chest, seemingly useless "you won't hate it so much when we're done."

"You'll die and be reborn. As one of us, with Value." The Governor confirmed

Pearson could feel his head swelling, the lack of oxygen making him dizzy as a bitter taste crawled up his throat, spots taking over his vision.

"Not … last," he coughed "Never the…last."