The five of them wasted no time in rushing outside, weapons at the ready. Upon exiting the building, they were immediately met by the sight of a cloud of dark miasma setting over part of the city. All around them, people were screaming in a panic, with many of them being cut short. The darkness made it impossible to see what was going on, however – it completely blocked their eyesight for more than a few meters ahead.

"Stick together!" Heather called. "Maintain line of sight with the others, no matter what! If you get separated, you're as good as dead!"

"What's the plan?!" Alain shouted back.

"Push towards the point of origin of whatever the hell this is and take it out! Any arguments?"

Nobody raised any objections, and Heather nodded. "Didn't think so. Follow me, and be quick about it!"

With that, she began to sprint through the cloud of darkness, the others following close behind them. As they moved, Alain became aware of several shapes coalescing around them, as well as bodies peeling themselves off the pavement and beginning to advance towards them. His first thought was that they were undead or zombies, but that couldn't be the case – their movements were too normal to be either; they lacked the trademark shambling and limping that came with the undead, as well as the unpredictability of the zombies in the swamp.

As one of them drew closer, Alain was finally able to make out what it was – it was shaped like a standard person, but that was where the similarities ended. It was completely made up of some kind of inky-black ichor, which completely covered its body and dripped onto the ground below. The figure was tall and lanky, and completely lacked a face. As Alain watched, it raised one hand, and claws of darkness began to sprout up from it, the digits reflecting like a piece of sharpened obsidian in the thin moonlight that broke through the cloud of blackness.

Alain didn't wait to see anything further. He raised his shotgun and blew the creature's head clean off. Ichor showered the city streets behind it, but somehow, it didn't stop – rather, it reeled from the blow, but continued to lurch towards him, its claws drawn back for a devastating strike. Alain fired the second shell from his weapon, cutting the creature in half at the waist. Even that wasn't enough to down it for good, however, as its upper half began to claw its way towards him as he stared in confused disbelief.

"What the fuck…?"

"Alain, keep moving!" Sable called, taking him by the hand and beginning to pull him forwards. "We can't get separated from the others!"

"What is this thing?"

"Now that I think about it, I've heard of these before – they're called darklings. Expose a human soul to the Underworld and this is what you get."

"They look just like-"

"The mayor's little entourage back in Los Banos, I know I didn't recognize them at the time, but now I'm positive. But you need to focus on that later."

"How do we kill them?"

"Light," Sable explained. "Fire is the only way to put them down for good, but light will stun them enough that we can get away."

Alain's eyes widened, and he slung his shotgun, instead drawing his revolver. As he did that, he also reached into his pocket, pulling out a book of matches. After striking one on a nearby building to light it, he offered the rest to Sable.

"Use them sparingly," he cautioned. "I've only got about two-dozen in there, and something tells me we're going to need them all."

Sable nodded, then struck a match of her own, holding it out in front of herself. Several darklings that had started to approach reeled back from the flames, bringing their arms up to block the light. Sable and Alain paid them no mind, instead continuing to sprint through the city, looking for their group.

All around them, people were screaming and guns were going off. Alain had to give the citizens of New Orleans credit – they weren't going down without a fight. As they ran, he turned to and fro, desperately calling out to anyone within earshot.

"Use fire!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Fire kills them! If you have matches, or a lighter, or a lantern, or something, then light it up now, for the love of God!"

To his relief, a few people heeded his warnings, if the sudden spots of light and heat that erupted through the miasma were any indication. It wasn't enough, though – even as the spots of light continued to spring up throughout the fog, he could hear more people being killed by the darklings. And just like the undead, anyone the darklings felled soon came back as one of them. Alain winced as he heard a woman's screams off in the fog suddenly be cut short; it took everything he had not to rush in and try to save her, vain as it was.

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"Focus," Sable urged. "We can still stop this from getting worse. Find the others, and exact your vengeance later."

"Right…" Alain muttered. His match suddenly began to sputter, and he threw it on the ground before lighting a second; next to him, Sable did the same. The two of them paused at an intersection crawling with darklings, all of whom shied away from the lights in their hands as they looked around.

"Think they went this way?" Sable asked.

Alain motioned to several fallen darklings, all of which were missing limbs or heads or were otherwise riddled with gunshots, yet were still alive and crawling on the ground somehow.

"I think it's more than likely," he answered.

"Okay… follow me."

She took his hand again, then the two of them began to charge through the intersection. Again, their matches saved them, though a few particularly daring darklings did manage to get close before the light and heat forced them away.

As they ran, yet more darklings began to pour out from the side streets, attempting to surround them, only to be kept at bay by their matches. Alain fired his revolver at any that still managed to get too close, counting his shots the entire time to make sure he didn't completely run dry. By the time he was down to his final bullet, they'd barely made it across the street.

"Keep moving," Sable urged, continuing to pull him along.

"This is bad…" Alain muttered as he scanned the area, taking note of all the darklings that had come for them. There had to be hundreds of them by now, if not more, and those were just the ones that were focused on the two of them – judging by the sporadic gunfire still erupting throughout the city, there were still plenty of survivors standing their ground.

"Focus on them later," Sable said without looking back. "For now, we need to find Thorne and stop her."

"You're certain it's her?"

"Positive. You heard what that vampire said before Heather killed him. And besides, nothing about this job she gave us ever sat right with me, anyway. If it's not her, I'd be very surprised."

Alain nodded, then struck another match. "Okay… keep us going, then."

Sable went to take a step forward, only to grimace and shake her head. "This is taking too long."

"What do you have planned-"

She looked around before Alain could finish, her gaze landing on a nearby tavern. "In there."

Without giving him a chance to argue, she pulled him inside, then the two of them barricaded the door. Thankfully, the building was empty, allowing them to sprint up to the top floor. Once they were there, Sable threw the window open, then took a breath.

"Watch out for me," she said to him.

"Of course," Alain said. "But what are you planning to do?"

"Something that'll hurt like crazy, same as last time. Stand back and don't interrupt."

Alain caught on immediately, his eyes widening. Slowly, he nodded, then crept backwards. As hse moved, Sable's body began to morph. He watched as her limbs contorted with the snapping and reshaping of bone, and the tearing and stretching of flesh. Sable screamed as she transformed, the feral sound erupting out of her throat as she held her head high, the moonlight reflecting down on her through the open window. Alain stood there, his heart pounding. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to step in and stop her, but he held himself back.

He'd seen her transform once before, after all, and unpleasant as it was, he knew she had a reason for it. That didn't make it any easier to watch or listen to, but it at least gave him reason enough to hold back from trying to help.

With one final crack as her spine finished rearranging itself, the giant bat that was Sable turned to look at him, affixing him with a red-eyed stare. She said nothing, but a dip of her head towards the window told him all he needed to know.

Keep them away from me and give me room to breathe as I take off and land.

Alain nodded in understanding, then approached the window, retrieving several matches. He lit them up, then tossed them out onto the ground below. As soon as he'd done so, Sable took off past him, flying out into the night. A few of the darklings attempted to reach for her, their limbs elongating, but the light kept them away from her. Alain breathed a sigh of relief as Sable took to the skies, her obsidian-black form soon fading into the night.

His relief was short-lived, as the sudden splintering of wood from downstairs made him jump. Immediately, Alain reloaded his revolver and shotgun, taking aim at the bedroom door with the latter as he holstered the pistol and struck another match. A few seconds after he'd done so, the bedroom door came flying off its hinges, and several darklings stepped into the room. Alain held the match out in front of himself, keeping them at bay; they shuddered and retreated out into the hallway as the light washed over them, and he wasted no time in cutting two of them in half at the waist with a shotgun blast each.

With his Ithaca now empty, Alain slung it and drew his revolver. The match in his hand flickered, and the darklings drew closer. A bead of sweat began to drip down the side of his face as he realized what was happening.

They were waiting for the match to go out. And once it did, they were going to pounce unless he was able to strike another one in time.

The flame flickered once more, and Alain didn't wait for it to go out. With his free hand, he took aim at the crowd of darklings and began to crank off shots. Heads exploded into showers of inky-black gore, the bodies stumbling backwards, yet still upright. Alain fired and fired, pulling the trigger and cocking the hammer back as fast as he could, all to try and give himself some time.

His gun clicked empty just as the match went out. The mutilated darklings surged as one, and Alain's eyes widened as he watched their claws draw closer, seeming to almost glint in the moonlight.

They never made impact, however. Two shapes suddenly rushed into the room, then began to tear apart the darklings piece by piece. Alain quickly struck another match, one of his few remaining ones, and breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed it was Az and Sable, both covered in ebony gore, but otherwise unhurt.

The darklings weren't dead, but with the new light source suddenly present, what remained of them began to skitter away. Az stepped forward and took Alain by the shoulder, then began to muscle him out of the room.

"Come on," he urged.

"What's going on?" Alain asked as they stepped back out into the main part of the tavern. "Felix and my mother, are they-"

"They're fine, but they need us," Sable insisted. "They demanded we both come get you, though."

"Why?" Alain asked, suddenly on-edge. "What's happening?"

Sable's expression darkened. "They found Thorne… and I don't think she's going to give them much time to recover before she starts hunting them in earnest."

Alain reeled from her words, his heart skipping a beat. It only lasted a second or two, but it was enough to leave him off-kilter before he managed to shake himself awake once more. He turned towards Sable and affixed her with a steely-eyed gaze.

"Lead the way," he growled. "Let's finish this."