Coming Home

I want to thank all reviewers on adultfanfiction and community shslash for continuing to read and critique this work. I love ya all. ^_^

Oh! Maiafay! That issue we were talking about at the end of this betaed chapter? The thing with Valtiel? You may be getting your wish, in a way, during the next chapter...*smug grin* You'll see!

Chapter 5

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James leaned further, pushing shoulder and arm through the meager space. His face tingled sharply from contact with the biting cold metal. "Okay…just a little farther…" He urged, legs spreading while he crammed his body against the bars.

"Shit!" James snapped, as the jacket fell short of knocking the keys off the hook. So close -- and yet so far.

He swiftly pulled the roped length of fabric through the prison bars, twisting the jacket into another long tail. He would keep trying, no matter how strongly he ached from all the twisting and stretching.

He had lost count how many times he tried to get his hands on those keys. There were only so many possible methods of escape, and this one was by far the most physically taxing. Sick of sitting in the locked cell, he had decided to try everything he could to break out. The only way he was capable of reaching the keys, though, was with Val's jacket. Slipping it off, James twisted his body, stretching his arm as far as he could. Snapping the jacket, he came within inches from hitting the key ring and driving it to the floor.

Another snap of fabric, and the key ring jostled towards the edge of the hook.

"…Easy…" James coached, sliding the jacket back to him. He winced as he shoved his shoulder farther between the bars, trying to get closer. The angle was awkward, and the jacket almost slipped free between his fingers. But the discomfort was well worth it when the key ring clattered to the tiled floor.

"Yes!" He shouted softly in victory. Slipping the jacket between his hands, he threw it again, hopefully, for the last time.

The edge of the jacket fell over the keys, snagging the key ring. Crouching down, James carefully began easing both the jacket and the keys toward the bars. A brief scare made him pause, however, when the keys came dangerously close to slipping out from underneath the jacket.

After several tense seconds and careful manipulation, the key ring clinked softly against the bottom rung of the cell. His fingertips stretched between the bars, snatching up the cold ring of metal and caused the keys to jingle.

With the keys in one hand, he quickly rose to his feet and slid back into the jacket, goose bumps rising over his skin from the deep chill in the room. Adrenaline due to the altercation between him and Eddie also made his skin shiver and hands shake. The memory of Eddie's mocking face made James snarl, temper raised. "Stay here…right. Fuck staying here, you asshole." He was pissed -- rightly so, but not stupid enough to go after Eddie, no matter how tempting the idea of pounding his face. It wasn't very wise or easy to beat a gun with bare hands.

The angle necessary to stretch his arms through the bars and position the keys was awkward, but James was adamant with getting out. At the exact moment when James' hand reached through the bars and with keys gripped tight, a blast of air smacked into his face. The jolt nearly made the keys slip from his hands.

"What --" He blinked owlishly, dazed by the sonic blast of pressure and air; observing in wonder the sealed door while it trembled within the frame. The edges started to curl, brown rust seeping through the peeling metal.

Whatever drove the blackness and rust, it pushed through the cracks around the door, slipping across the floor and walls. James leapt back when a stretching length drew close, jumping onto the metal bunk in order to avoid physical contact.

All four gray walls began to crack and warp, pieces falling and shattering onto the floor. Tile separated into many pieces; the metal bars of the cells and bunks remained the same while the room began to change, shifting around him into a nightmare parody.

Gray paint slides off the walls like wet snakeskin, the remaining surface smoothing into rusted-red slabs, thick splatter paths of black rising to dapple the walls. Cracking tile pieces shifted underneath his shoes, baring the worn wood floor hidden beneath.

The proceeding episode failed to shock him as badly as he would have expected. Watching live as the world around him shifted, warping into a freak nightmare vision, it left him feeling partially numb and separated from reality. After seeing so many things happen, and watching the malformed creatures come to life, James began to feel that there would be little left that could surprise him.

He approached the prison bars, testing luck to see if change in environment had possibly weakened the metal enough for him to escape without the need of the keys. No fortune found, however; the bars and doors remained solid. He would have to just go with the key, then.

He paused, caught in attempt to use the keys, but an abrupt sound of jagged metal being run along coarse tile. James leapt back to the farthest wall again when the door handle jerked once, then twice, metal frame screeching as it slid along the uneven floor. A series of hard shoves and metal grinding against metal caused his head to ache from the shrill whine, but finally the door came opened.

He recognized the person standing in the entranceway, from the hair and familiar robe over dark clothing, down to the black boots. "Val!" James didn't attempt to hide his relief at seeing a familiar face.

With a tilt of the head, Val examined James from the doorway with the customary quirk of lips. "Well…you're in an interesting predicament." He noted, stepping into the room and advancing towards the bars. "Wrapped up tight in a box like a present, missing only a bow. You don't look as if you're having any fun, though." Val noted.

"Yeah." James laughed shakily. He matched Val, approaching the bars, hands curling around the uppermost section. He was glad to see Val, no matter their brief history. His humor was short-lived, however, when he remembered Eddie. "Hey, you didn't come across some guy down here, did you? A blond, fairly heavy and wearing a baseball cap?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Val processed the question, eyes slitting in thought. "Ahh, yes, that one. We had a little encounter." He admitted after a brief lapse of time; appearing to have little desire to speak about the subject.

"Are you all right?" James insisted, voice tinged in worry, "He had a gun. You didn't get hurt or anything, did you?"

Val's face fell in surprise, not expecting those sort of questions. His features swiftly slid back to normal, lined with humor, a slightly curved smile, baring the clean line of sharp teeth. "There was a bit of a scuffle, but he was dealt with. Safe to say, Eddie is suffering from a pretty nasty headache."

"Oh. I…guess that's good. As long as he didn't hurt you." James sighed, some of his worry decreasing. He caught the masked frown fleetingly slide across Val's face. "What? What is it?"

"You continue to confuse me." Val spoke slowly, taking care of each word he picked. "At one point you were friendly with me; the next time, you were angry and fearful. Now, it's as if all the bad things between us have been washed away. It's strange…and vaguely frustrating."

"Um…" Frustrating Val did not sound like something particularly wise to do. His mood was best described as being very volatile, from James' prior experience.

Val drug his hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands. "I don't understand how or why you care so much about everyone around you. It's an enigma, and it continues to taunt me." His last sentence trickled out between tight lips, pulled back to bare his teeth in a silent snarl of sudden fury. Left hand swung out, smashing hard into the bars, metal actually groaning beneath the crashing assault. "I don't like feeling as if I am being played for a fool!" He hissed, James jerking back from the opposite side of the barrier.

"What do you want me to say?" James hesitated before stating the demand, "Would you like me to lie and say that I get a kick out of leading you around, or something like that? Would that make it easier for you to handle?"

"Yes." Val breathed out around gritted teeth.

"I won't lie to you. I can't. That's not the type of person I am."

"Why can't you be just like all of the others? Filthy humans, acting superior and pure; bemoaning sin, but feeding their own selfish desires?" Val demanded, eyes nearly rolling within their sockets. "Cowering like whipped dogs, and yet constantly surging for meager scraps of our power and attention; while hiding behind a façade, pretending to care about our existence, as long as it remotely serves your own interest. You're a fool to harbor hope for demons. We are what we are, and we won't change even if you point down the road leading to paradise."

'Demons? Paradise? Sins and power entwined with fear and hate. Is this the element that influences Val's bouts of anger and madness?'

"I don't have the answers that you want or need." James admitted. "I'm James Sunderland, an ordinary man. Whatever the case, it sounds to me as if it's not the 'dogs' that need a master, but…you need them."

James quickly moved to continue when Val's gaze darkened, irises blazing. "Hear me out." He urged. "These people you're talking about, they need you. But you need them, too. They gave you an identity, and you respond to the emotions they direct towards you. That's not the kind of life to live. You're only suffocating each other, bound in the chains and prison you both created. You put yourselves there, and you have to pull yourself out." He finished.

'What am I thinking?' He demanded, horrified by his long speech, feeling like a babbling fool. 'I barely understand what's going on, and I'm standing here giving counseling?' The thought was so ridiculous he had to stifle laughter before could misunderstand his amusement.

Yet, Val was the one snickering under his breath, shoulders shaking while his hands clutched at the bars for support. James worried that he had 'lost it' for real. "A lost little lamb giving guidance to the wolf. So sweet, it's tragic."

"…If you say so."

The mood had shifted yet again; dark humor replacing Val's mad demands and words. "If only you knew the truth. I'm beginning to feel guilty now."

"For what?" James hesitated.

"For what we have planned for you."

'Oh, that makes me really comfortable now. Guilt complex or not, I trust you as far as I can throw you.' James thought in worry.

Distress rose as his gaze fell upon Val's hands that wrapped around the bars. Soaking into both palms, and between each fingers, thick congealing red fluid rubbed slim streaks across the metal. James realized with sudden clarity the most likely origin of the drying red flakes.

Apparently, Val hadn't lied to him. From the look of his hands, he had had no trouble dealing with Eddie.

Val managed to quell his remaining laughter, head rising to peer at him through the bars. "All right. I'm done now. So…how long do you plan to stay within this cage?" The quip failed to make James smile.

"Actually…I think I'm fine. Really, I'm great. I'll just stay here while you continue on with your business." James lied as best he could, trying to sound casual and not unsettled. Val and himself appeared to be continuously dancing around each other, weaving dangerous steps; it made James fear what would occur next, given Val extreme unpredictability and his words never promising good fortune.

Val appeared to sense James hesitancy, gaze once again narrowing into dangerous slits. "I really think you should come out of there." Insistence laced with dire warning.

"I don't agree with you." James countered.

"Don't pretend that there is no way to escape. It's not as if you can't get out. You have the keys." Val observed, gaze lowering to the key ring still grasped tight in James' hand.

"Yeah. It's insurance that I can get out whenever I want to. I'm fine here, though. There's a bed and facilities, what more could I want?" His reasoning fell very short of convincing.

"James, I really think you should come out of there, right now." Val insisted again.

"No."

"James…"

"I don't feel very comfortable leaving right this moment. I'll leave once you're far away from the building. How does that sound?" James attempted to barter.

A small yip of surprise escaped him when Val suddenly threw himself against the bars, rattling them with immeasurable ferocity. The cell held, but rattled all around. "Don't be difficult, James." Val ordered.

"You're the one being difficult!" James fired right back, taking several steps back from the bars to avoid the hand that came close to grabbing the front of his jacket.

His shoulders pressed firm against the bunk behind him, as Val reached one arm through the bars, hands beckoning. "James, come back to the door. If you give me the keys, I'll let you out."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that I don't want to give them to you." James said, leaning back further from Val's impossibly long arm. Elegant fingers hovered an inch from his face as the limb somehow extended from between the bars.

"James." Val said soothingly, attempting to coax James to come within arms length; beseeching him with a warm gaze that would have fooled the man any other time. "Everything I said earlier has been discarded. I have no intentions of causing you permanent harm. Give me the keys."

"No."

"James --"

"Val." He interrupted Val, anticipating his rising temper. "It's hard for me to trust you when you say that I won't face any harm, while both of your hands are covered with drying blood."

The stretched arm reaching towards him stilled, hanging frozen in the air. Fingers flexed, clenching tight into an angry fist, sending a rain of red flakes onto the ground. "That has nothing to do with this." Val attempted to dissuade him.

"I think it's important to notice."

"And what will you do then, James? Let's pretend that I listen to you and hop, skip, and go off to play somewhere else. What then? You'll let yourself out of this cage, and meander off towards the waning sun, is that it?" He demanded snidely. "A sweet little fairytale ending. Utter bullshit. Do you honesty think that I wouldn't stand a remote chance of finding you, no matter how far or fast you run? You are making a serious error in underestimating me."

"I'm not that stupid. I don't underestimate your focus. I'm just uncomfortable because I'm beginning to realize how dangerous you truly are." He acknowledged his fears, also feeling like a complete idiot for not having recognized the possibility that Val really was truly capable of harming someone.

"What makes you think that you can run? You are not in the best state of health to be running around. I'm amazed at how you were able to keep trotting around through town without keeling over due to exhaustion. So weak and so tired! It would have been easy at any time to wrap you up and tuck you somewhere dark and tight until the Red Pyramid was called. I could have snatched you up easily when you were hunkered down in the construction site."

"Oh yes." Val grinned at James' surprise. "I know about all of your little adventures. I came close to stepping in when the Patient Demon knocked you onto your ass. You surprised me, though. The desire to live was so strong. And such savagery! I didn't know you had it in you to drive that pipe right through its heart. You made me very proud, James."

"I'm not proud of what I did." James shook his head, hunkering down onto the bed and covering his ears to try to drive Val's words away.

"Your humanity is the foundation of your regret. The world is brutal, and someone must always be the victim of another."

"Stop trying to rationalize everything!" James argued. "It's not an excuse! You didn't have to do it. You only did it for the enjoyment of killing him."

"Yes." Valtiel saw no purpose in lying. "If you fear me because of what I did to Eddie, then you shouldn't be. Eddie would have died even if neither of you two had met. He was a murderer, but being a killer does not automatically decide one's fate. What led him here was his own fears and madness, and he could not and did not have the desire to face them. He was a hypocrite, bemoaning the bullies that tormented him, but always conveniently forgetting that he was the one who pulled the trigger. His stink was drawing the foulest of demons out of their dank holes. It was inevitable that he met his end."

"If he was a murderer, then he should have faced charges. The police should have taken him in!"

"Charges!" Val laughed, sarcastically mimicking the word. "A slap on the wrist, the rest of his life spent in a cage. No, true punishment would be to deliver the same blows that he used to kill his victims. Human law is not properly fit to make any criminal truly sorry, and Eddie was no exception. It wouldn't have changed what he was at all. If he had accepted who he was, then none of this would have happened to him. He decided to stray, taking without giving, just wanting someone to be a scapegoat for his rage; and I merely answered his call, although he wasn't expecting that the prey would bite back."

"Human laws are meant to judge humans." James argued.

"He lost that right the moment he swallowed the seed of temptation that this world offered him. We baptized him in blood, although it was all his own."

"Listen to yourself. You condemn him, but find no fault in your own acts of murder and warped justice."

"You have no idea what you are attempting to understand. I am beyond you. Your humanity blinds you, showing a world that is either black or white. If you truly wish to understand, you only need to take my hand, and shed the diseased cloak that you call humanity."

"Say all that you want, Val. My humanity may make me weak, but I'll fight tooth and nail before I surrender it. If you really mean to do me no harm, the please leave. Just leave me alone."

"I cannot do that."

"Why not?" James demanded angrily. "We keep running in circles around each other! I call you on something you just said, but you quickly scuttle back from it! If you want to help me, then just leave…me…alone!"

Val remained patient and allowed him a short time to vent, waiting for the man to calm down before explaining once again. "I already told you. Wherever you run, I will find you. No matter how far you go, I will drag you back. You have been carrying my mark this entire time, and it has leeched into your skin. You will never escape my reach."

James reflexively clutched at the borrowed jacket. "This…it's only a jacket." He whispered in stupefaction. 'It's only a jacket…Isn't it?' The reflexive question didn't offer him any answer.

"A jacket that has been meticulously stitched and pieced together by my own hands. The stitching that you were admiring earlier? I soaked them in my blood before I laid them out, and the symbols are personal runes of choice. The blood calls to me no matter where it travels."

"That's impossible." James resisted, refusing to believe such blatant lies.

Valtiel laughed darkly in twisted disgust and sick amusement, "After everything you have seen in this place, you are surprised by something so menial in comparison?"

"Forgive me for actually thinking that you were a decent person simply offering me a jacket in order to stay warm." James snapped, ire raised.

Valtiel accepted James' anger. "I deserved that, I suppose. I haven’t been that forthcoming, have I?" He acknowledged.

"What else have you been keeping from me?" James slumped down further, thankful he was already sitting.

"…I held back a minor detail in regards to my name." He acknowledged.

James laughed shallowly, "Now that's a terrible shock." He couldn't stop himself from asking the obvious. "Like what? What little detail did you keep tucked away?"

"The detail concerning my name. Val is an abbreviated version. My true name is…Valtiel."

'His name? Why on earth would he do that? A name is a name. Even though his is quite rare.' He wondered about the meaning of the revelation, and what purpose the other man had to hide his name. "…Valtiel?" James repeated, sounding out the unusual name.

To his shock, 'Valtiel' convulsed bodily as his hands fell slack from the bars. His upper body dropped, like a puppet being cut from its strings. The angle in which he hung looked painful; head hanging upside down above his knees and hair masking shuddering features.

"Valtiel?" James felt worry spark when another long shudder rippled through the man's body. 'Oh god, is he having some sort of seizure?' Panic fluttered inside. "Valtiel!" James repeated, his voice rising in pitch.

His body was rocking in place; skin trembling hard enough that it seemed ready to ripple completely off. "You shouldn't have done that." Valtiel hissed harshly, an evident grimace passed across his face.

"What?" James resisted the urge to step closer to see if the man was all right, but found he still hesitated in getting too close.

Val breathed like a locomotive, each drag of breath capable of making an ordinary human's vision swim from the hyperventilating pace. "You said my name. Not once, but three times. Names have power, and you called out one of the darkest names in this world. You called for me --" A deep shuddering breath. "-- And now I will never let you go."

"You need to stop saying such things!" James argued, "I haven't been calling out to anyone. I'm not the person who you think I am! Just stop this, Valtiel."

Valtiel reared back up into a full standing position, flat milky eyes flaring bright. Black veins formed webbed trails around the eye sockets, stretching down to lace beside the edge of his jaw. "We can't stop now. The game is far too along now." His sharp teeth bared, pink gums fading and becoming slate gray.

Valtiel literally leaped backwards through the air, landing high on the wall in a crab position. He clung like a spider, remaining firmly on the wall without falling to the floor with legs spread wide and arms stretching towards the ceiling.

"Breathing one of our names into the air, the summons is heard by all, to any that may be listening. The Red Pyramid has heard you, and he is coming here. Right now. He's most eager to meet you; it's been far too long."

A long animalistic shriek poured free from his gaping mouth, Valtiel's hands snagging the front of his black clothing, gouging and tearing at the thick fabric with long fingers. Long tears rent through the cloth revealed strips of pale flesh, rising and falling as if insects were crawling underneath the thin layer. He grabbed a handful and tore huge chunks off, tattered remains slipping through his hands.

James cried out, witnessing live the horrible spectacle. He couldn't convince his eyes to slam shut when Valtiel began ripping chunks of hair directly from his scalp; gristle and flesh remained connected, but he was shocked shock when the open wounds did not bleed freely. Wads of the lank strands flew through the air as he flung them in any odd direction.

"Here it is, finally. The truth that you have sought for so long." Valtiel barely managed to speak around a mouthful of fangs, lips stretching impossibly to accommodate their elongated state. Naked from the waist up, his pale skin ripped and became flushed from the internal activity. "You bring out the beast in all of us. Even in you yourself. The one who sings to us, whether it is through your cries of pain, joy, or rage…You can not deny what you are; the time for running is over, and we will unleash the beast inside of you. And when we awaken you, purifying your doubts and fears, then our fallen angel will rise. Standing alongside as we lay siege, explore, and annihilate any that may stand against us!"

An angry red pus-filled rash rose across Valtiel's arms and chest. James gagged as numerous areas of the skin split wide open, shiny pink meat letting loose a flood of white wet liquid spilling up from between the cracks. It moved as if it were alive, seeping down shoulders, arms, torso, and rising to encase his neck and head. The liquid soon encased all of Valtiel's upper body, pulsing lightly as it settled into place.

Within seconds, the solution began to harden until supple, latex gloves formed from the liquid, dressing Valtiel's hands. The hardened material extended from wrist up until his shoulders shattered, blasting away as if fired through the barrel of a gun. From shoulders, across collar, and down to his waist the liquid revealed a butcher's apron, the waist connecting to Valtiel's robe and pants. The rich black colored cloth of his lower limbs sloshed off the fabric, trickling to the ground and the cloth wavered in the air; shifting into the continued length of the butcher's apron, ending in the black boots that had remained the same throughout the grotesque transformation.

The thick patch of liquid encasing his skull shimmered like a mirage, forming into a mask with his facial structure pressed tightly against the material. Valtiel stretched his body, testing out the new skin; revealing the thick stitches up the back of the obscene mask and down the back of the butcher's apron.

"…Oh god oh god oh god oh god…" James didn't cease the mantra, eyes wide and physically collapsing weakly onto the bottom of the bunk, shielding his head with his arms.

Warped, like a monstrous apparition finally shedding his human skin, Valtiel revealed the beast within. A form that provoked James' vision to swim bringing forward static images that flicker up from his memory.

'I know him. I know him. I remember…he was there, above me. The accident… Somehow, I was lying on the ground away from the car. There was pavement beneath my back, and my body was in so much pain. My head felt like it was going to split apart. And he was there, and there was a weight around my neck, suddenly I couldn't breathe…'

James' chest couldn't seem to rise and fall quickly enough, failing to draw in air. His lungs were suddenly heaving, crying out for air, while he was already gulping down deep breaths in the middle of an anxiety attack.

James' chest couldn't seem to rise and fall quickly enough, failing to draw air. 'I can't…I can't breathe…' His hand encircled his neck, feeling weak, chest heaving for air as he started to hyperventilate.

Valtiel scrabbled along the wall, scuttling across like an obscene insect, moving as swift as mercury. He flexed and twisted until he was now along the wall on hands and knees. His neck bent at a queer angle, peering at James through the eyehole-less mask.

His head jerked away from James when something crashed into the door from the opposite side. Two hard, crushing knocks and the center of the metal frame started to warp and bend outward. The impact physically shook the walls, red plaster and dust cracking near the seams of the door's frame. The door actually flew off its hinges, blasted completely away, smashing against the unoccupied cell and crashing to the side.

A familiar figure stepped into the room, and James somehow made him out through his swimming vision. The same long, jerking stride that appeared heavy but smoothly drawn out as each boot stepped forward. The red pyramid helmet, all the way down to the boots. This was the individual who had attacked the armless demon on the street.

So…this was the Red Pyramid. An angel of death.

Pyramid Head wasted no time in acknowledging Valtiel's presence, yet his full attention remained entirely on the man within the barred cell. Two broad steps and he stood directly in front of the cell door, gloved hands gripping the bars edging the doorway.

The cell wall rattled as Pyramid Head began rocking it back and forth steadily. The mountings within the ceiling and the floor began to twist, crumbling cloud of dust swirling out from the ceiling and floor. James' hand clutched his chest, feeling it heave greatly; his breath sharp and ragged. "..S…stay away…" He barely managed to wheeze through numb lips.

Pyramid Head's hands shifted, finding a new area in which to pull and twist at. A hand closed around half of the cell door's locking mechanism. Immediately, metal began popping and snapping under the crushing force, half of the lock system actually being torn off. He tossed it negligently to the side, returning back to ripping, pounding viciously at the barrier that resisted him.

The topmost portion of the cell door started bending away, coming down as Pyramid Head steadily pulled, door hinges cracking into shards as they separated from the frame. Shoulders bulged, muscles popping up tight against flesh as the merciless hands actually ripped the entire front wall of the cell completely out of the mountings in the ceiling and floor; taking with him door and all.

Pyramid Head threw the torn section of the cell towards the wall, forcing Valtiel to scuttle quickly out of the way in order to avoid being hit by the debris. He jerked in agitation, scrabbling to remain on the wall from his abrupt dash out of the debris' path, while the warped metal clattered to the floor. Through the mask, Valtiel appeared noticeably pissed by the other's lack of regard to his proximity.

James cringed back, nearly falling over himself as he huddled against the farthest corner of the bunk from the demon standing in the opened side of the cell. Panicked breathing escalated greatly as Valtiel dropped down from the wall to join the first demon, rising with a dancer's grace to stand shoulder to shoulder with Pyramid Head.

'This really is a nightmare.' James moaned softly, torn between grief and relief when his vision began to swim, too fast, so quickly that the two demons were simply a splash of meaningless color along his tunneling vision.

He barely managed to make out Pyramid Head's approach, jerking as firm hands encased his shoulders, head falling back weakly and peering up towards the underside of the helmet. The dark cavern underneath the helmet began to draw closer, closer, merging with the darkness spilling out along the edge of his vision.

Lack of oxygen and mounting fear proved to be overwhelming. James' eyes rolled back, feeling the presence of strong arms catching him as he began dropping into a dead faint. Time slowed to a snail-paced crawl. He dimly expected the back of his head to smack hard into the side of the bunk bed, but a firm hand cupped the back of his skull; leaving him to arch slightly within the demon's arms.

The world around him spun in a mottled rotating field of rust and metal; a shattered broken canvas, along with two demons leaning over him right when eyelids shuttered closed.


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Officer Ranfield shivered from the blowing wind, hunkering down underneath the minimal protection of his uniform and issued jacket. His partner, Officer Layton, continued to sweep the area with his flashlight; doing little to cut through the thick trees and the ever-present fog.

"God, it's so fucking cold!" Ranfield whined, his partner snickering at the petulant tone. Damn, but the wind felt like ice daggers! He knew he should have volunteered to stay at the station and catch up on paperwork.

"Be glad that it's not raining." His partner warned with humor.

"Oh, thanks. NOW you probably jinxed us." Ranfield groaned.

"Are they sure that he was coming this way? Down this road?" Layton asked again, sweeping the beam across the tall gates down the road several meters from parked police cruiser. The place gave him the creeps, personally. Dense trees and rustling leaves made his skin crawl, every snapping twig making him jump. He had heard ghost stories from his parents about this place, and had quickly come to the conclusion that he didn't care if the place was haunted; he wasn't planning to come back for a visit anytime soon.

"Positive. The father said that he was planning to come up here. This is the only road into the town. We both know that." Ranfield's hands ran up and down his arms, trying to get the friction to warm him up.

"Well, either he found another road, or he changed his mind." The flashlight switched off, plunging both officers into darkness while red and blue strobe lights flickered across their faces. "The chains and padlocks haven't been tampered with, the gates aren't damaged and show no signs of entry; there isn't even a sign of a car passing down this road within the past few days."

The officer ran the heel of his boot idly along the pavement, "No tire marks, no debris. Nothing."

"The father is probably overly anxious. Paranoid; the son most likely took a different route or simply wanted a few days to himself." Ranfield offered.

Layton shivered as the wind began howling loudly, chilled limbs quivering. "Let's head back. I want to get out of this weather, and back to my desk. I rather write a report any day than stay out here."

"I hear you." Ranfield opened the passenger-side of the police car, ducking inside and slamming the door shut to cut off the cold air. Layton slammed the driver-side door, and the engine kicked to life. The automobile slid into a smooth u-turn, taillights briefly shining over the metal gates before the vehicle took off at a leisure speed back to town.

When the police car disappeared in the far distance, several bushes alongside the road rustled ominously; movement not influenced by the wind. Slanted luminous eyes shined through the thick foliage, unblinking while they stared after the vehicle.

"Gone. They've left."

A long, robust arm stretched out from beyond the wall of foliage. It drug fingers across the pavement where the police car had stopped, and the pavement cracked underneath the fierce pressure while the fingertips dragged roughly across the course surface. The hand appeared to be chasing after the distinguished heat as the pavement cooled, seeking out the fading energy from the engine's ignition and the friction of rolling tires.

One figure sighed softly in disappointment, sleek talons brushing slim branches to the side. It peered down the road, observing the far-off two humans that had unintentionally avoided the predators that had been lurking so close. "Such a pity. I miss the sweet taste of human flesh."

"It wasn't worth the risk. If those two had suddenly disappeared, then more would come. Now, enough with the humans…Is it done?" A third voice questioned.

"Yes." The first figure shuffled back, the bushes rustling as it withdrew. The other two followed close behind. "There won't be any evidence for the humans to find."

"Good. Otherwise, you would have the pleasure of explaining the failure to the Red Pyramid."


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James knew that he hovered directly at the threshold of consciousness; a small step forward and his vision flared completely white, blinding him.

The brilliant force of light shred the darkness into scraggly ribbons. Eyelids shifted restlessly, opening slightly to allow a brief spill of color, causing his pupils to contract from the sudden blast of texture and depth.

He coughed weakly, feeling an aching twinge in his throat. It hurt a little to swallow, punishment, no doubt, from all of the abuse caused by shouting explicit curses and gasping while running up and down streets. His body felt like lead, limbs tingling uncomfortably, having fallen asleep. Every single inch of movement was incredibly sluggish, limbs shaking as he attempted to push himself up and off his stomach.

James yelped shortly when his head connected lightly with a table's edge, collapsing onto the booth seat while the injured flesh of his temple was electrified from the fierce sharp pain. Blinking sharply to ward away the scattering of stars and the dulling throb, he shook his head as if it would dispel what he was seeing.

The restaurant's tile was in each specified place, tables and chairs aligned perfectly. Menus and prices laid out over the counter and registers against the far wall; 'Happy Burger' stenciled above.

James slid up from his undignified sprawl, in a long drawn out squeak due to the friction of the booth's plastic cover and clothing. He put a hand on the table to brace his weight, startling when it shifted under him, and a sharp groan of wood against tile echoed throughout the otherwise silent space.

'I'm back?' He looked around in awe. It was exactly the same, everything outside the restaurant still being circled by a heavy fog. 'Or did I leave at all? Was it just a dream?' Could it have been a dream, or some sort of sick nightmare?

A few things dissuaded that hypothesis. First, his body still ached greatly and carried a few significant bruises on his temple and chest from the car crash. That part had been real. Also, there was the case of him still wearing the long black jacket that Val…Valtiel…had given him.

He ran his hands along the coat's lapels, as if testing the material to see, if in fact, that it was truly and physically there and not some figment of his imagination.

Whatever the case, he needed to find help, preferably medical help. He must have hit his head hard enough to cause a concussion and possible delusions. 'Yeah, that's it.' He told himself, convincing the small stretch of doubt that persisted to hover in his mind. 'The crash messed with my head. Concussion, maybe. That would explain the hallucinations. God, I hope there's no internal bleeding. I need to find a doctor, before it gets worse.'

Getting to his feet proved to be a small challenge and James nearly fell onto his ass from the abrupt lack of balance, an otherwise comical lurch and stumble in a different scenario if he wasn't faced with so much physical discomfort and internal confusion. He remained on his feet as best as he could until the vertigo passed, moving steadily, carefully towards the main glass doors.

It continued to astound him, how everything was in its exact place. Everything, each piece was correct down to every detail, matching the disjointed hallucination. Some sort of twisted look into the future, perhaps? Was it his own way of trying to drive himself insane; throw in a mad assembly of demons and corpses, symbolizing his fears and failures in life?…No. He had simply needed to find enough of a plausible explanation, wanting so badly to understand what had happened, that he was willing to label the entire nightmarish drama as being a figment of his sick imagination. God, he was his own worse enemy. Bad enough that Frank was beginning to worry that his son was possibly insane. Now James followed his father's path, sorting out faint injuries and recollections as being the confused byproducts of his own deluded mind.

But what power the mind had. It had certainly felt and looked real enough. James caught himself retracing previous steps in his head as he approached the door; mind arriving at the moment that he had burst through the door, following after Valtiel. For some strange reason, he already expected the doors to open just as they had done in his…dream?…vision. Much to his surprise, when his hands closed over the handles and he pushed sharply, the doors refused to budge an inch.

Facing the small opposition, James then attempted to pull the doors open, guessing perhaps that 'pull' would be the most likely other option in opposition to 'push'. But that way didn't work either.

'Is the store locked up?' He wondered. 'Did the employees go home already? But then, how did I get inside if the building is already closed?'

Dropping down to his knees, James examined the keyhole and handle to try to see if a bolt was what was holding the doors shut. Too little space lay between the doors, and he couldn't determine if the doors were locked from the inside or outside.

A strange discoloration flickered to attention from his peripheral vision, running along the bottom of the doors, catching his attention. Leaning down to get a closer look, James traced his fingers against the raised black weld running through the seams between the door and floor. The surface rippled and bubbled, uneven and yet, surprisingly smooth. Glossy, shining like glass, but pitted in too many areas to be that. It appeared to be some sort of metal. "What the hell could have done this?" He whispered, unable to figure out how or why the strange substance was present.

The thick melted bonds and seams ran along the entire floor, and his heart plummeted when the welds traveled up the side edge of the doors and along the roof of the frame. Some sort of welding machine had melted the casing, creating an impenetrable bond of scorched metal. There was no way by hand that James could get out; it would probably take hours alone if he even had some sort of machinery to crack through the welds.

Someone had gone through a lot of effort to seal the doors. Apparently, to make sure no one would be getting out.

Whoever had done this, James knew that there he was in trouble. If the individual was capable or willing to do something as bizarre as weld doors shut, then…what else were they competent of accomplishing?

Throwing his entire body against the doors only caused the glass to shudder within its mounting. "Shit, shit, shit, shit…" James hissed, running to the windows, hoping that perhaps there was at least one that could be opened from the inside. "SHIT!" His hands smacked loudly against the glass, venting when he found that not a single window had any sort of latch.

He checked behind the registers and counter, all other doors locked as well and not moving even when his boot smashed hard into the wood.

'I'm trapped in a damn fishbowl!' He cursed the vast layout of tall windows taunting him with a view of the outside world that he was unable to find a means to reach.

He had to be making enough noise for bystanders to wonder what the racket was about. Going back to the windows, James leaned close, finding it difficult to see through the thick walls of fog. The street signs and opposite row of buildings was barely discernable via the gray mass.

James could make out from his position a strange array of metal and debris strewn down the main street in front of the restaurant. Long pieces of rubber intermingled with twisted bands of metal and cracked glass.

'Okay, if for some reason no one heard all the noise I was making, then how the hell did they manage ignore all of that?' The amount of metal would be impossible for a single person or car to safely pass. Whoever had laid it out had wanted the entire mess to be visible.

The pieces appeared to be ones that would possibly belong to a car, perhaps. Maybe. He wasn't an expert when it came to mechanics, but several parts resembled components of headlights, but others were so badly damaged that the only place they belonged was in a scrap heap.

A loaf-sized, flat piece of twisted metal caught his eye. A series of block numbers and letters stared back, certifying his assumption that the pieces were indeed the remains of a car.

His car, to be exact.

The car crash couldn't have been that bad that the entire vehicle was totaled, and in such a manner! Didn't he crash the car into a set of metal gates? Then how on earth were the remains right there? It looked as if something tore the pathetic hunk of metal into individual pieces while in the middle of a raging fit. The mess was too meticulous; there had bee a purpose, a drive behind the attack on his vehicle.

If he wanted to get out of the town, then it looked as if he would be walking home.

He just couldn't seem to win. Everything appeared to be conspiring against him.

'Could Valtiel have had anything to do with this? Or the other one…what was his name!…The Red Pyramid?'

'NO! Stop trying to scare yourself!' James refused to panic, trying to find some rational reason for what was happening. 'You need to calm down! Focus! Find a way out. Get to a doctor, and then contact the police. Something horribly wrong is going on in this town, and someone needs to be notified about it.'

But how; the doors were sealed shut, and the windows provided no plausible way of busting them open.

Even though it was hopeless, James returned to the welded doors. Resolute, he began to bang his hands as hard as he could against the doors, metal and glass rattling and rumbling loudly. He faced a great risk of attracting the attention of whomever had barricaded him inside the restaurant, but at the same time, there also lay the possible chance of someone hearing him and coming to his rescue.

Time passed at a steady crawl, his only companion the repeated crashing and reverberations of the stubborn doors that refused to open no matter how many times or how hard he struggled.

He paid a price for his exertion. All shoulder and arm muscles quickly grew hot and tight, but he refused to stop. However, the skin of knuckles, and the soft flesh of his palms and corner of his hands started to crack and rub hard along the uneven surface until they began to bleed. Stinging, white-hot agony from torn flesh forced him to cease the furious pounding. James had bled and sweat throughout persistent efforts of drawing attention to his prison, rocking and rattling the doors, creating a horrendous amount of ruckus. The time spent literally throwing himself against the welded doors might as well have been days, in reality probably around half an hour, but no savior appeared from the foggy gloom outside.

Damp crimson fingers smeared thin streaks, painting the glass a bizarre graffiti red. The fresh metallic tang burned his senses as he pressed his forehead against the cool glasses, frigid pain of glass chilling flushed skin. "Damn it." Whisper soft, the curse affording him little reprieve from the cold hard fact that he had failed to beat his way to freedom.

James nearly scaled the door, practically crawling up the glass due to the sudden and loud crash of metal some distance behind him.

Spinning around, he managed to catch sight of a pan lid spinning crookedly along the tiled floor, twirling wildly, flash of silver and slowing to a clatter.

His heart felt ready to pound its way out of his chest; beating so hard, it rattled against his ribcage. 'Jesus Christ! I almost had a heart attack!' He griped, feeling the tremors of adrenaline fade--

--And spike, shooting right back up and a short scream lodged in his throat when Valtiel dropped lightly from the ceiling to crouch on top of a round table. The table didn't jiggle, not even remotely, from the additional weigh.

"You. You are real, then." The totality of it all, the reality that everything had not been a horrible dream felt like a blade being shoved directly into his gut.

Valtiel's head jerked side to side, neck twisting crookedly, near the point that a normal human's would pop and crack. The blank mask revealed only a touch of expression, but James could make out the other's unwavering focus. Moving as smoothly as a dancer, stretching one leg at a time with grace that belied the fragmented muscle contractions and fierce exaggerated spasms. Valtiel leaned over the edge of the table and onto the floor to land directly on his feet, rolling broad shoulders dramatically so that defined muscles and tendons pushed against tensed flesh.

Standing, but hunched over partially as if approaching a cornered animal, arms spread wide, Valtiel indicated with a brief flicker of his hand and choreographed twitch of fingers for James to come towards him. James watched the beckoning hand, observing it as he would a venomous snake. He shook his head in wordless denial, lips compressed tight in a moue of refusal.

Back against the wall, towards the line of booths and chairs, James edged away from the door. He attempted to circle around Valtiel; not that there was an obvious path of escape, but the more distance between the two of them, the better.

Valtiel didn't appear to approve of James' desire to keep space between them. He easily matched James' pace and step, slinking dangerously close while trying to come across as not being near enough to literally reach out and snag the man.

In a perverse version of musical chairs, James ducked behind one of the grander tables meant to sit a large family or group. Valtiel wasn't capable of stretching across the distance due to the chairs and the width, but he made the man work hard to keep out of his reach. James had to move immediately to the other end of the table, just as Valtiel suddenly dashed hard towards the right to come around the other side.

James realized that he was close to the registers and main counter -- and to the last door that most likely led into the kitchen -- with the small possibility of having an emergency exit.

All he needed to do was to get past Valtiel.

'Yeah. I can do that. Really simple.' It sounded incredibly ridiculous. Him, outrun a demon. 'All I need to do is outrun Valtiel. I'll just tell him to sit and stay while I make a dash for the exit.'

But it was either that, or continue to play tag -- and James wasn't stupid. He was aware of the possibility of Valtiel actually vaulting the table in order to get a hold of him. He simply needed to act first.

He feinted a move to his left, and Valtiel instinctively followed the motion. In the middle of the action, James pushed forward, shoving his entire bulk into the table, knocking chairs askew and smashing the edge hard into Valtiel's gut.

An explosive whoosh of air signaled his success, Valtiel caught off guard by James' sudden offense. It only knocked the wind out of him, making him pause momentarily to assess the sudden turn of events.

Not waiting to see how Valtiel would respond in the face of his sudden aggressive attack, James was already running for the counter. He didn't dare think to attempt to scale the counter in one mighty leap, aware that in his state, injured or otherwise, he would undoubtedly crack open his skull. A split second was wasted in circling the end of the counter, the ninety degree turn into the employees section nearly sending him to his hands and knees.

The stumble saved him: Valtiel's long arms only encircled air, extending over the counter to where James had just been before his momentum threw him off-balance.

His shoulders banged against the shelves of the tight space. He flinched instinctively from the loud wrenching screech of metal above him. One of the registers, torn clean from its bolted mounting, cut off his escape path. The other was thrown against the wall directly into the expansive menu board, sending a spray of glass and other sharp debris to rain down upon him.

'Oh, he's pissed.' James thought snidely. The broken glass and metal was too dangerous to cross on hands and knees, palms already bruised and scrapped to bear debris being shoved into open wounds.

Forced to rise to his feet in order to cross the broken path and step over the large register, James ducked right back down, narrowly escaping the same ploy, feeling the brush of arms dangerously close to having snagged him by his neck and shoulders.

He stepped the metal hurdle in his way just as Valtiel leaped onto the surface of the counter, within striking distance.

Acting without thinking, James came around, while in the turn snatching up a metal tray, and smashed it hard across the side of Valtiel's skull. The jolting impact of bone against metal was so jarring, the tray vibrated in his hands, and James dropped the dented tray.

Again, it didn't even cause Valtiel to do more than rock partially; but the offensive maneuver came as a second surprise to James' assailant.

James felt more bruises blooming when he crashed harshly into the door, cursing as he realized that it opened outward instead of pushing in. The doorknob twisted underneath his hand, escape finally opening to him, and he was forced to shift to the side if he wanted to be ready to squeeze through the narrow exit.

The door slammed completely shut, however, trapping James between firm wood and muscle when Valtiel smashed his dense bulk against the man's back.

James released a short grunt of pain, the side of his face pressed against the door by a large hand and fingers winding through his hair to grasp the side to trap his head. Both of his arms were efficiently jerked behind his back in unforgiving hold. Valtiel's other hand encircled both wrists, creating a warm fleshy handcuff keeping James' hands tucked into the small of his back.

His stomach dropped violently while Valtiel's arm encircled his waist, using the wait of his bulkier body to physically throw both of them backwards and over the counter while keeping James wrapped close and tight. Their heels didn't even touch the countertop as they sailed over it blind, Valtiel landing with barely a sound. James kicked instinctively, but his feet were inches above the ground. His arms behind his back were freed momentarily; however, the iron-hard grip around his waist kept both arms entrapped.

The man's fumbling struggles caused no falter in his step. Valtiel strode purposely towards the nearest wall coming to stand several feet from the pitted white surface.

His free hand stretched out towards the wall, appearing to beckon for someone or something to come forward. James watched, confused, apparently not 'seeing' what had captured Valtiel's attention so vastly.

Valtiel's hand clenched tight, fingers bending sharply as if trying to rend through the very atmosphere around them. His hand began to slowly turn in midair, as if turning a corporal object.

James looked on in disbelief, unable to believe his ears when the steady groan of old metal moaned in symphony with the turn of Valtiel's hand. The wall began to bulge and rumble, a portion as large as a dinner plate slowly jutting out towards them. Paint and plaster crackled, chips trembling and falling to dust; the circular mass revealing a large dull gray valve mounted directly into the wall.

Seeming to be satisfied, Valtiel's hand slackened from its intense twisting action in order to stretch towards the valve and grip one thick side of the handle.

TBC