*click*

*static*

“Are we live?” Mr. B asked.

“YEP!” Tex howled, pulling an earpiece out of his ear. “That high pitched whine tells me stuff is workin…
just not around me.” He pulled the GoPro off, tucking it into one of his cargo pants pockets. He then
gathered the dozen others in his retinue around him, chanting in lower, rhythmic tones while the circle
clasped hands. The stack of shot glasses still smelling of expensive whiskey sat nearby.

“What’s going to happen when my pack shifts?” Tawny poked at the GoPro on her shoulder. The rest of
her group stood near her, looking at their de facto leader with determination and an undercurrent of
fear.

“Probably some good ground footage.” Pavement chuckled. “I reckon we got enough of these spread
around to send plenty of footage back to Theory.”

“Good theory.” Adam said dryly. He had weapons and religious iconography laid out on a log in front of
him, though his attention remained focused on his open wallet and pictures he kept inside.

“Yeah, he alright,” Pavement replied, either not catching the joke, or pointedly ignoring it. For a man
who claimed not to be a Changeling, he looked on the edge of being human. His skin was pale, his eyes a
bit sunken, and several who had aimlessly wandered close had just as absently turned away and sat
elsewhere.

Gayle looked over the rest, a quiet, resigned look on her face. She controlled her breathing as she
looked through some old, physical pictures in a scrapbook.

Adam reached into his coat, pulling out a metal ring with a pin attached. He pulled a picture out of his
wallet, pierced it with the pin, then reached both back into his jacket and attached it to something. He
then folded his wallet and tossed it to the ground, gathering up the rest of his things.

“So,” Abe asked, standing up and ratcheting a shell into his handgun, a crew of burly mountain men
joking behind him. “Are we about ready?”

Almost on cue, a small convoy of cars pulled up, a small army of men pouring out. They wore almost
identical black outfits, carried firearms, and fell in place behind a stocky man who took the lead.

“Mr. Gorlomi,” Mr. B nodded.

The stocky man nodded back. “Mr. B.”

“Alright Mr. Pavement,” Mr. B looked over at the grimy man. “Where is this way?”
The walk had been brief. 20 minutes off the main road and the group strode toward a small perforation
in the rock. It was too small to be called a cave, but it was big enough for a large human to squeeze
through.

Out of the 100+ attendees of this mob, Dowry was the only one who had any trouble. However, the
gawky, overwhelmingly large woman was able to slide through with help on both sides to push/pull her
in.

Once through, the cave opened a little, but not enough for more than one person to move at a crouch.
Dowry was similarly inconvenienced here, having to move at a literal crawl.

Pavement continued at the lead, his progress constant and deliberate.

Those behind him didn’t continue with as much determination.

“What the fuck is this?” Grace hissed, pulling her hand off the ground. “It’s sticky and smells… kinda like
fish.”

“It’s silk.” Samantha White’s voice answered from ahead.

“Silk?” Grace’s voice was touched with apprehension.

“Don’t ask, just keep moving.” Samantha said, her voice clinically detached. “Keep your eyes forward,
and hum to yourself.”

Grace looked around, trying to focus her eyes in the dark, straining her ears to hear anything in the
shadows.

An eerie feeling swept through her, as if unseen eyes fixed on the group, filling her with discomfort and
unease, and a muffled sound of clicking chitin reached her ears.

She immediately began humming to herself, and continued crawling forward.

The trip wasn’t short. After the tunnel there was a bridge over a chasm that would have made Gandalf
and the Balrog pale. It was followed by an icy slope. Hundreds of sleds were made available, which was
all the better given the hungry packs of massive wolves that seemed to be eager to chase down any who
strayed from the ‘herd’. Finally, the Paranet was greeted by a swamp suitable for Artax to lay down for a
nap.

Each section of the trip was dark, dreary, and filled with creatures and sounds that sent shivers down
the collective of the Paranet’s spine.
But, true to their cause, the group soldiered on.

Finally, Pavement led them to a mound of mud in the middle of the swamp. The mound was over twelve
feet high, featuring a gnarled and rotted wooden door in the center. It was large and circular, with
enough circumference for four people to walk through shoulder to shoulder.

“This is it,” Pavement said, turning around. His casual half smile was present, but his expression was a
bit more empty than usual. Less animated, more blunted.

“You feeling alright there, Pavement?” Adam asked, suspicion in his eyes. “Not that I don’t appreciate
the trek through hell back there, but you sure the Red Court is on the other side of that door?”

Pavement simply smiled, the large woman Dowry hulking next to him.

“We’re not going to find out in here,” Abe said, cutting Adam off from another line of interrogation. He
and the Pathwalkers hefted shotguns, and adjusted various crosses, charms, and Native fetishes that
were hung and strapped around them.

“Yup,” Tex agreed. “If anyone has any final things to say, now would be the time. Cause after this we’re
committed.”

The hundred plus mortals looked around at each other. Expressions ranged from fearful to manic, some
with tears for what might be lost, while others for what might be accomplished.

Mr. B coaxed the Mafia forward, “Alright Mr. Gorlomi. Why don’t you take the front and rear, and as we
go in we’ll fan out to see where we can best.”

The local Boss nodded, making some hand motions and putting his posse into position.

“Alright then,” Pavement nodded to the group, then turned and opened the door.

What happened wasn’t a victory.

Romantic stories have a way of painting loss of life and the carnage which brings it with an elegant
order. Pretty words give a veneer of purpose to the chaos in an effort to help the audience digest
tragedy. In the end the stories try to make sense of two opposing forces resorting to a final solution to
irreconcilable differences.

The actual battles themselves are anything but ordered.

Plans immediately became complicated as the Paranet began filing through a floor to ceiling mirror and
into a wide hallway. It became quickly apparent the group was not going to be able to move as one, and
stealth was rapidly being removed as an option.
After the first two dozen filed in, Tawny and Grace waved their hands at a group, pointing them down
one hallway. The fifteen or so mortals nodded, readied their weapons, and moved.

The two traffic coordinators continued their task, dividing the massive war party into sizable chunks that
could still overwhelm targets, all while being able to maneuver through the innards of the structure
effectively.

While an argument of hushed voices erupted between Tawny and another member of the Paranet
about this not being a horror movie, and splitting up would just get them killed, Tawny was vindicated.

Farther down the hall, two doors opened. A man and woman stepped out from opposite sides of the
hall, each holding machine guns that looked like they should be mounted on a helicopter. With no
hesitation or cries of challenge, barrels spun and let loose a hellish barrage of firepower into the hall.

The group of sleuths, Excelsior, was on the front line. Before they had a chance to raise their weapons of
choice, bullets ripped through their bodies and sprayed viscera over those directly behind them. Jack
Shaw, the Lost Boys, and the Rusty Badges had half a second longer than Excelsior to ready themselves,
but it only served as enough time to understand what fate they were about to endure.

Bullets mowed through the crowd, leaving a pile of amputated limbs and entrails in their wake.

As the gunmen stepped back into their rooms to take cover, the Paranet exploded into chaos. This
wasn’t a company of well trained, battle seasoned soldiers. Most had never seen real violence unless it
was on TV. Panic quickly spread, causing some to break down, some to attempt to flee, and others to
freeze like trapped prey. Dozens of would be vampire slayers filled the hallways with a cacophony of
voices and uncoordinated movement.

Members of the Paranet still filed through the mirror, while others attempted to push back through the
glass that had solidified on the side of the real world. The confusion and fear this instilled in the
newcomers added to the chaos.

Fortunately, the Paranet is also made up of determination. People of all backgrounds who had enough
of being preyed upon, and developed the determination, faith, and the love for their fellow man to do
the right thing.

“Grace!” Tawny shouted over the wall of voices, “Corral those groups into that room until they calm
down. Gemenis! Get all the other shifters. We have a job to do!”

Strider (Tawny’s pack), the Geminis, and the Crescent Cuts gathered at the end of the bloodied hallway.
After a few exchanged words of strategy, the three groups melted. In the place of the former humans
was a large variety of animals ranging from wolves to a hawk.

The hawk and raven went speeding down the hall, with a pair of coyotes slinking along the walls after
them. With silent precision, the two dove into the rooms the gunmen had retreated and screeched.
Yelps of surprise mixed with pain echoed out of the room, prompting the coyotes and other animals to
advance. The gunmen retreated out of the rooms, birds harassing their faces while the coyotes bit at
gun hands and ankles. Handguns were drawn, attempting to engage the animals at close range to free
up their ability to re-engage with rifles now that their large weaponry was spent.

The charging elk interrupted their attempts.

The two Red Court guards went flying, crashing into the walls and falling to the ground as the large
animal charged through them. The flood of animals behind it continued the work. Mountain lions and
wolves pounced on the fallen guards, who tore out of their skin suits as the predators fell upon them.
Large, rubbery, bat-like creatures spread their wings and fought back. Claws tore through fur, and fangs
sunk into muscle, though the sheer number of shifters who had engaged them overwhelmed them with
numbers. Their forms were more than flesh and blood, but also forces of Spirit, and eventually they tore
the vampires to meaty shreds.

“This is a meat grinder.” Mr. B growled. “We have people packed in these hallways. If a grenade was
thrown, or a claymore was tripped, they’d take out a third of our force.”

“You aint wrong,” Tex replied, looking over heads and trying to scout ahead. “We need to press the
attack, but we can’t thin out our forces too much or the Red Court will pick us apart.”

“Let’s get out of these hallways and into a larger area, parse out into kill squads, and then pick directions
for people to search and destroy.”

“Pitter patter.”

Joey, Ciro, Tommy, and Meyer led the way, with Mr. B, Iroh, the Pathwalkers, the Neighborhood Watch,
and the Mulligans behind them. Gorlomi and the rest of his Mafia goons played rear guard.

The group of thirty or so had moved towards the main foyer, then taken a path up the stairs to clear the
top of the house. The side goal was to literally tear the roof off, and allow for some sunlight to do their
work for them.

The estate enjoyed its large hallways, presenting an image of wealth and segregated meeting areas for
visitors, or ideal choke points and kill zones for assailants. The site they were currently presented with
was a hallway that connected to the stairs and balcony they came from, a ‘T’ shaped intersection at the
end of the hall going left and right, and two doors on each side housing rooms of unknown qualities.
“Let’s breach and clear.” Mr. B said in a loud whisper, pointing at portions of the group. “You dozen
cover those doors. You all get in firing positions, and you five breach the first door.”

The group filed into position, with several standing outside of doors to ensure anything that came out
was met with crosses and gunfire, while others took positions at the ends of the hall to have a clear
vantage point of any threats that entered the hallway.

Mr. B, Iroh, Abe, and the rest of the Pathwalkers assembled, then kicked down the first door. It wasn’t
clean. They hadn’t practiced dynamic entries and room sweeps. But with a fair amount of bumping into
each other, the ‘assault team’ managed to enter the room, weapons brandished. They scanned it,
fanning out and searching hiding places to ensure any hiding threats were revealed and destroyed.

“Clear?” Abe made it a question.

“Clear.” Mr. B confirmed. “Let’s go to the next o-”

An explosion of gunfire emanated from the hallway, echoing into the large study the assault team had
just cleared. Mr. B, Iroh, and Abe picked up a massive oak desk, tossing it towards the door before diving
behind it and peering out.

Three of the Mulligans were face down in pools of blood, with the rest stumbling towards cover, firing at
both ends of the hallway. The Neighborhood Watch shouted cries of surprise, picking a nearby door and
filing into it, a few of their members being cut down before making it to what they hoped was safety.

“Gorlomi! What is happening?” Mr. B shouted over the gunfire.

The shots died down as the last of the Mulligans fell in the hallway.

“Mr. B!” The Mobster yelled out frantically. “They’ve pulled back, but we need support on the South
side!”

The assault team rose, preparing to hop their improvised barricade and join the fray.

“NO!” Came a voice from across the hallway. “They are shooting at us! The mafia opened fire on us!”

A pregnant pause followed.

“Gorlomi?” Mr. B called out, hesitation and anger in his voice.

“Not the case, Mr. B.” Gorlomi ensured. We laid down covering fire in both directions, but our side was
hit by a group in the shadows. We need support.”

“Then why is your voice coming directly at me, and not over your shoulder?” Mr. B called out.
“Shouldn’t you be looking towards your threats?”

A long pause, followed by a few chuckles.

“Why don’t you just come out here, Mr. B? We’ll talk it over.” Gorlomi said, sinister amusement in his
voice.

The assault team looked at each other.

“Well,” Abe growled. “Shit.”

The Professors took the lead, with Tex and crew right behind them. The Gemenis and
Crescent Cuts had finished up with their Red Court guards and rejoined, along with the Ute,
Jeffery Witherspoon, and Brother Francis.

Francis walked tall and with purpose behind the group, chants in Greek and Hebrew flowing
from his lips in a soft enough tone to be heard by the Paranet, but not enough to carry
through the halls.

The hallway ended at a large set of double doors. The thick, dark wood was carved with
intricate patterns reminiscent of Central American tribes, with broad, iron handles to
complete the aesthetic. They were beautiful representations of the foreign culture which
had set roots in a new home, and highlighted the wealth of their owners to any guests who
sought to enter.

Tex and crew held out their hands, whispered a word of power, and blew the artistic portals
off their hinges.

The shifted crews entered first, fanning out and covering as much ground as possible. Brother Francis
walked in after, lifting his voice a few octaves to fill the room.

It was a massive dining room. The table itself could easily sit 40, with sofas, side tables, and fireplaces
(plural) off to the sides for more private side meetings should guests wish to retreat from the main
gathering area. The lavish accommodations mirrored the door, which was now strewn in pieces over the
floor, radiating wealth and decadence.

“That was quite the entrance,” A muffled voice said.

The crews froze, spinning their attention to another set of double doors on the other side of the room.

“Al lay handro?” Tex drawled. “Is that you?”

The voice chuckled. “Hello again, Mr. T. I see your organization has chosen violence over diplomacy.”

“Yeah, well,” Tex said, using hand motions to organize the cells into cover around the room while others
approached the door carefully. “The rank smell of bullshit on your claims during our parley overpowered
any desire we had to believe them.”
“I suppose that was wise,” Alejandro chuckled again, his voice penetrating the door. “Our plans were to
continue the hunt regardless, though having your payment would have helped offset some costs. Had
we not been tipped off about this little endeavor, we may have been out in the field right now instead of
shored up and waiting for your arrival.”

“That supposed to scare us away?” Tex asked, watching as the shifters moved near the door, and the
ranged attackers took aim at the doorway. “You bein’ all ready for us? Maybe you haven’t heard, but
we’ve got over a hundred puny mortals lookin’ to settle the score. Think you can take us all?”

“I’d have relished in the opportunity to try my hand at the lot of you, but the Baron insisted we play this
carefully. Those dozen or so I met investigating the loss of the ‘Oath Keepers’ were only enough to whet
my appetite. Plus, many of those you brought may not help as much as you had hoped.”

“One of those dozen you ‘met’ was my friend Dawn, and I intend to respect her memory here today.”

Another low, basso chuckle. “Well then, Mr. T… shall we get started?”

Tex nodded to the Professors, who each took a door handle and pulled. The double doors swung open,
revealing a ‘T’ shaped intersection, and a tripod mounted speaker.

The various shifters rushed forward towards the open door, stopping short when they realized the ruse.

Jeffery gurgled something behind Tex, who felt a warm and

wet liquid spray across his cheek.

Tex turned in time to catch a glimpse of Alejandro, his human

face and torso partially in place, but his arms, legs, and
batlike wings fully exposed. From his forward momentum,
and the direction of Jeffery’s falling corpse, Tex guessed
Alejandro had been huddled in a dark corner of the ceiling,
and the apparatus around his throat revealed how he was
transmitting his voice.

Tex didn’t get much farther in the examination as Alejandro

struck him with an open hand, claws scoring from the back of
Tex’s head, down his face, and across his throat.

With a surprise attack on the back line, and the melee fighters dozens of yards ahead, the Assassin of
the Red Court snarled and pressed his advantage.

“Do you disagree that the big bad would be hiding out in the basement?” Adam growled. “Where else
would a monster of the night be hiding?”
“I just… I don’t know…” Bob Shaw sputtered. “Maybe we should bring more people?”

Adam looked back to the rest of The Bereaved, Pavement, Dowry, the Storm Devils, Babs and Nicole,
The Shepherds, Judy Marshal, and Samantha White. He eyed Bob again. “It’s a little late to be having
second thoughts, Bob. If this army isn’t enough, maybe you should’ve stayed home.”

The man shut up, gripping his crucifix and manically darting his eyes to the front and back of the group.

“Adam,” Pavement drawled. “Less’ go on up ahead, let Dowry take the back, and we’ll move nice and
careful through the basement that is definitely not a trap.”

“Sounds like a plan…” Adam said.

The wide staircase was ported right out of a Disney movie. The Beast and Belle could have met at
opposite sides, with talking furniture gathered around spectating at the base.

Adam and Pavement took opposite sides, descending slowly while aiming weapons ahead. Pavement
felt the weight of the golden amulet against his chest, a hum of power resonating into his body.

The floor opened up ahead of them, a wide archway revealing a gaming room filled with all sorts of
gambling and pub vices. Apparently monsters didn’t just host fancy dinner parties and lurk in dark
studies, but also liked the casino life as well. The contrast of all the tables and games with no creature in
sight was a little unsettling, but the group pushed on regardless.

A hollow pop sounded from under the stairs, followed by a ripple that defied physics flowing up and
down the staircase. Wood and carpet waved back and forth like water, radiating out in an instant, then
sucking back with an accompanying sound of back drafting air. The stairs exploded inwards, pulling the
structure and a dozen members of the Paranet down through the floor.

Pavement, Adam, Dowry, and Samantha rushed towards the hole to look in.

A pile of entangled bodies began to move on the dirt floor below, attempting to recover from the fall
and be ready for any follow up attacks. A ring of light filtering in from the hole above surrounded them,
with thick darkness on all sides.

The attacks came quickly.

Bob Shaw pushed himself up from the pile, stumbling back to the edge of the ring of light.

Slender, human arms reached out of the shadows, grasping Bob around the mouth and chest, pulling
him out of the sanctuary of the circle and into nothingness with the ease of dog snatching up a rag doll.

The Storm Devils got to their feet next, blood pouring from lesions caused by the fall and debris. A thin
perimeter was established with baseball bats and assault rifles facing outwards as the Paranet pile
recovered.
“Tango spott-” Bruce called out, sighting his rifle on something in the dark. His voice cut off sharply, his
back arching and his face straining. The weapon lowered, his arms stiffening out to the sides, before his
entire body folded in half, the back of his head touching his heels. The snapping of bones was made all
the more horrifying by the lack of any physical cause to the murder.

The man had simply folded backwards with enough force to break in half without anything touching
him.

“Lumine!” Babs shouted as she came to her knees, conjuring a ball of light and pushing it out into the
darkness where Bruce had identified the threat.

“Incindious!” Nicole’s voice joined her sister as she stumbled up behind her. Motes of glowing embers
flew from her fingertips, scattering like fireflies out into the dark. The amulet at her chest pulsed softly
in time with the projectiles as they left her hands.

Shouts from the Storm Devils erupted as the rest were pulled out of the circle. One transgressed too
close to the edge of the light and was snatched up like Bob, while the others flew off their feet, launched
by unseen force and hurled into the darkness.

“IN NOMINE DEI!” Roared a voice from the pile. Father Daniel Black pushed himself up, brandishing a
crucifix and continuing to shout. “Back to your pits, Hell Spawn. The servants of the Almighty will not be
cowed by filth such as you.”

The man walked forward, Faith in his higher power fueling his advance, moving towards the glowing orb
launched by Babs and out of the ‘protection’ the circle of light offered. The Paranet continued to recover
behind him, the attacks halting for the moment as the Pious man walked into the valley of the shadow
of death, fearing no evil.

“Do we find another way down?” Pavement asked, looking down the stairs, then back at Adam.

Judy Marshal let out a squeak below, her voice cut short as a line of red opened up over her throat,
arterial spray fountaining over several of her comrades nearby. She twisted away from the blow and fell
to the floor in a twitching heap.

Judy’s attacker flashed back into the darkness as quickly as she appeared, a fountain of black hair in her
wake.

Dowry roared, the sound deeper than any mortal could conjure, and jumped through the hole. Her form
shifted as she fell, changing from its hulking human image to a large, seven foot troll. Its feet impacted
the floor with a rumble, and stood to reveal a creature with a flattened face, teeth protruding from its
lips in comical angles, and light blue skin that looked cold to the touch. Standing in front of several other
members of the Paranet who were finally gaining their feet, it held its arms out in challenge and roared
again.

Without another word, Pavement and Adam jumped into the hole.
“You’re beaten, Mr. B.” Giancarlo Gorlomi shouted out. “You’re trapped in a room with one exit, and we
have guns flanking both sides. Let’s make this easier on everyone, and we’ll do things clean and quick.”

“You were paid well,” Mr. B shouted back. “What happened to our deal?”

“They pay well, too! Had you been in the know during your career, I feel you would have had a great
working relationship with them. Plus, our interests align.”

“You know these things are just going to backstab you when this is all done, right?” Abe shouted. “You
don’t know how these monsters operate.”

“Wrong,” Giancarlo laughed. “We got an education on the Weird side of the world a year ago. The Red
Court arriving was not just expected, but planned for. Who do you think built this house?”

The man who adopted the popular anime mentor’s name sat behind the two ‘negotiators’ of the
Paranet, breathing deeply and centering himself.

“If you were working for them the entire time, why the charade?” Mr. B called back.

“If you were willing to tell us all your plans, bring us along, and give us armament to help take you down,
what better way to solidify our base and relationships here in Colorado?” Giancarlo continued
confidently. “It was a great deal for us, Mr. B, you were just operating off the false assumption that we
were too stupid to realize what was going on in the world.”

“Run that way,” Iroh gestured to the corner of the room bordering Giancarlo’s position on the other side
of the wall. The middle aged man stood and moved towards the door, picked up speed, and launched
himself into the hallway.

“Now come on out and HOLY FUCK!”

Iroh interrupted the mobster’s monologue by landing in the middle of the hallway, pointing two fingers,
and launching a thin bolt of lightning that flew off course, hitting the wall near where the mobsters took
refuge.

The mobsters fell back into position, shouldering firearms and taking aim.

Iroh pressed his left hand out, his right palm held against his chest, and closed his eyes against the
oncoming fire. Bullets arced towards him, catching on invisible currents of wind and spiraling off course.
Tears in his clothing opened as projectiles whizzed by and down the hall.

The shooters from the position behind Iroh came out of cover, their initial shock of incoming fire
converted to realization that it was from their friends, and angled away from their position. They joined
the fray, and began leveling their guns at the man’s back.
With a crash, the wall nearest Bugs fell outward. The discoloration and holes caused by the lightning
strike creating a weak barrier between the room and the hallway. Iroh hadn’t missed the mobsters, he
had created an escape for his comrades.

Debris came flying out with Abe, who used his body as a battering ram and charged towards the
surprised Mafia members, wrenching their attention away from Iroh.

Abe shouldered through Bugs, knocking him back, and held his pistol out sideways to let loose a stream
of bullets at the others as he followed Bugs to the floor. Only two of the seven hit Fredo, but turns out
only two were necessary. The goomba rocked back, tripping as he tried to stand, then fell limply to the
floor.

The rest of the Pathwalkers flooded out after Abe, though Giancarlo, Vito, and Gallo were less surprised
now, given a chance to recover as their two compatriots were taken down. Two of the Pathwalkers fell
to a hail of bullets, skidding to the ground a step or two from their targets. The last of them jumped
forward, landing on the two remaining goons and driving a dagger between Gallo’s ribs.

Mr. B followed, handgun at the ready. He ducked into a roll, closing distance on Giancarlo as the mob
boss reassessed threats and took aim at the newcomer. The retired assassin came up under Giancarlo’s
gun, taking a shot through the shoulder as the price of striking the mob boss’ wrists. He followed his
momentum forward, lowering his shoulder and pushing Giancarlo back, taking aim at mobster’s thigh as
he knocked his opponent off balance.

He missed, but hit the bridge of Giancarlo’s foot, which achieved effectively the same end result.

The mob boss howled in pain, but fueled by adrenaline and a strong will to live, he fell back with Mr. B,
grappling with him and carrying the retired assassin’s weight over him. The two rolled back in a
summersault, with Giancarlo securing the top mount position when they came to a stop.

Guns were pulled forward, with both being batted away by free hands. The struggle ensued, switching
from fist strikes, to attempts to aim, to recovery of one’s grip on the weapon, to an attempt to gain
control of the grapple.

Mr. B realized with dismay that this man was younger and tougher than he was.

A crunch sounded as B’s nose flattened between his skull and Giancarlo’s fist.

A gunshot rang out, opening up Giancarlo’s side with a wound after he barely pushed B’s gun away from
his breadbasket.

A cry of pain echoed when the mobster fastened his hand on Mr. B’s wounded shoulder.

Giancarlo’s hand passed by his waist, freeing a knife as it ascended. Wasting no time with final taunts,
he let the blow fall, directing the tip of the blade at Mr. B’s left eye.
A wound exploded from Giancarlo’s shoulder, tearing through his black clothing and spraying blood. The
injury startled the man, but was not enough to slow his momentum. The knife continued down, but off
course, burying in Mr. B’s chest and into his left lung.

The other Pathwalker wrestled with Vito in Mr. B’s peripheral vision. The two struggled over a handgun,
with both men pointing it towards Giancarlo, the barrel still smoking. The burly mountain man elbowed
his target, pushing forward, carrying both of them over the balcony railing and down to the foyer below.

Not willing to waste the opportunity provided, and giving Giancarlo the same courtesy of a final blow
without an accompanying taunt, Mr. B grabbed the man’s collar with a fist, pulled him down to the
waiting barrel of his pistol, and pulled the trigger the moment his chin touched metal.

The top of Giancarlo Gorlomi’s head exploded out, painting the ceiling with gray matter, and spraying
blood over the wall and down to the foyer below.

“Fucking…” Muffled gunshots across the balcony and flashes accompanied the curse. “DIE!”

Mr. B looked over to Abe, who had just force fed Bugs a half a dozen 9mm aspirin, curing the mobster of
any head that could ever ache. He then looked down the hallway, seeing Iroh still standing in position.
The man’s body was tattered, ripped through with a dozen bullets from both directions, and had just
started slumping to the floor. Whatever magic he commanded had waned, along with his ability to
continue standing as a barrier.

“Mother fuckers…” Abe growled, pushing himself up and back to the Abe-shaped-hole they had
emerged from.

Mr. B watched as the mobsters at the other end of the hall fanned out, taking cover on both sides now
that they didn’t have to worry about crossfire. B took in a painful breath, but otherwise stayed still so
the enemies didn’t realize there was a prone, helpless target on the ground.

“Hey, Greasy Shit Stains,” Abe called out of the room. From the location of his voice it seemed like he
was near the door inside the room again. “That was a good deal made by your boss… you know, come
out, make it quick and clean… yall wanna hear another deal?”

“Sure thing,” Tommy yelled out, fight in his voice. “Let’s hear what you got.”

“Here’s my rebottle.”

With that, Abe sidearm tossed the lit molotov out the door and down the hallway. It was meant to be
used to take the roof down, but given the circumstances, Abe figured it was a better application for the
tool.

A chorus of swears emanated from the end of the hall, and several mobsters dove out of cover, running
forward to take refuge in one of the other rooms.
The fire flowered out from the intersection of the hall, lighting Meyer’s back aflame as he tried to get
away. Ciro’s leg caught fire from the blast, though the man didn’t seem to notice it yet.

Mr. B leveled his gun at the approaching mafia goons, joined by Abe, who leaned out of the doorway to
send quarters down range.

The mafia returned panic fire, with little hope of hitting, much less killing one of their targets.

Joey’s knee exploded from one of Abe’s shots. As the man stumbled and went down, a shot from Mr. B
that should have hit center mass instead went through the man’s cheek. When his weight finally carried
him to the floor and bounced his head off the carpet, he was already dead.

Ciro and his flaming leg took two shots to the stomach from Abe, but managed to lift his gun and send a
lucky bullet Abe’s way. The projectile tore through Abe’s lower jaw, taking part of his tongue and several
teeth along with it. The flaming mobster stumbled into the sanctuary of a room, falling to the floor and
clutching his stomach. Several seconds later he realized he had a fire to put out, and desperately
slapped at it while filling the area with screams.

Tommy realized Abe wasn’t the only threat, focusing a few shots farther down the hall towards Mr. B.
The retired assassin was injured, but was disciplined enough to maintain focus. What’s more, from his
prone position he made a very difficult target to hit, while Tommy had a full approaching spectrum of
targets like he was on an approaching zipline at the range.

Mr. B held his breath to avoid the pain of his lungs distracting him, let three shots fly, and grinned as
two connected with center mass. He calmly adjusted his aim, putting another through the top of
Tommy’s head after he hit the floor, then emptied the rest of his clip into Meyer, who was bouncing
himself off of walls in an attempt to put the flames covering 75% of his body out.

With gasps of relief and pain, Abe and Mr. B let their bodies slump to the floor.

Tex saw something flash before his eyes. Whether it was his life, or just an aftershock from that shot of
pre-fight whiskey he took, he wasn’t sure.

Wounds immediately blossomed and seeped blood from everyone who was in Tex’s circle at the
beginning of the battle. What would have been a mortal wound to an individual was a grievous wound
spread out over many. His spell had saved his life at the cost of some flesh and blood from his
compatriots. But that was the deal they had made; spread out the carnage with the hope that each
individual can fight longer.

With Alejandro moving like slick lightning towards him, he feared that even with the added resilience
from the spell, he would be joining Jeffery on the floor soon enough.
Jaclyn saved his life. The kinfolk had stayed back near Tex, armed with guns and the intent to shoot
whatever was on the other side of the door. When the attack came from behind, she acted quickly and
selflessly.

Alejandro’s second swipe towards Tex was intercepted by Jaclyn’s arm, deflecting the blow away from
her leader, and instead down the side of her own body. The scores from Alejandro’s nails dug deep,
opening furrows of skin and muscle from her armpit to her hips.

Another of the Ute jumped on Alejandro, wrapping their arm around the assassin’s neck in a reverse
choke, and attempting to tighten his legs around the creature’s waist as a third went for his arms.

Alejandro contemptuously batted the third assailant away with a backhand, then reached up and
gripped the second assailant by the hair. Blood splattered as he did, and the assassin revealed his nails
had dug right through the Ute attacker’s skull when he hip tossed them over his shoulder and into the
wall thirty feet away.

With tears of frustration and determination in her eyes, Jaclyn rushed forward, attacking the monster
from the Red Court head on. Her form was smaller than his, and his supernatural strength vastly
outpaced her own. Nevertheless, she persisted.

Eyes already moving to his next target, Alejandro swept his claws into an uppercut, intending to swing
through Jaclyn and continue on to Tex.

To his surprise, his arm stopped mid swing, and the momentum of his movement spun him around. His
back faced the rest of the Paranet, and his eyes focused down at the Ute tribeswoman, and her iron grip
on his forearm.

Gold, feral eyes looked back.

Tex’s crew were rallying, having recovered from the ruse and realigning their efforts to the surprise
assailant behind them, so only Tex saw what happened next.

He saw his friend’s eyes change. He saw her muscles flex, bulging out to an impossible size for a human.
Her pigmentation shifted as hair began sprouting, and clothes began to shred.

The surprise on Alejandro’s face was satisfying enough, but what was truly rewarding was the look on
Jaclyn’s face. Through the grim determination of the fight and the focus on defeating her enemy, a well
of pride had bubbled up. She had repaired whatever connection had been lost with her ancestors, and
the gifts that had been kept from her for her lifetime had been restored. She understood that the timing
had saved her compatriot’s lives, at least for a few moments, which kept her spirit high even as
Alejandro adjusted his attack.

Jaclyn’s eyes remained brimming with pride and hope for the Paranet as Alejandro’s free hand arced
across his body, nails carving through her shoulder, puncturing through her bulging neck muscles, and
digging into her skull.
Brother Francis’ voice rose, his chants filling the room with Hebrew. He stepped passed Tex, holding
forth the symbols of his faith as he attempted to banish the demon wearing human skin.

Alejandro rolled away, a high pitched shriek reverberating off the walls as he pulled his claws from the
half-shifted Ute tribeswoman. Skin sloughed off of his arms and face as unseen Faith ripped at his very
essence.

Brother Francis pressed his advantage, moving forward with determined steps, his holy symbol a
weapon and shield between him and the Red Court vampire.

The Geminis and the Crescent Cuts barreled past Tex, using the vampire’s retreat as an opening for their
attack.

Alejandro, now stripped of his flesh mask and the pure bat monstrosity beneath, grabbed an oak chair
and flung it underhanded at one of the approaching shifters. The wolf dodged it easily, however they
served their purpose to block Brother Francis’ sight of the projectile for long enough to remove his
ability to dodge. The solid oak furniture collided with the man’s head and upper torso with enough force
to pull him off his feet. His unconscious body tumbled to the floor a few feet from Tex, blood pouring
from a cracked skull.

The two packs of shifters charged the last few feet to Alejandro, dismayed when his huge black wings
spread, lifting him off the ground and over their reaching teeth and claws. His legs distended as he flew
over, raking two of the Crescent Cuts across the face and eyes, flapping his wings again to pull himself
up before they could jump and get a hold of him.

Gayle, who had been standing with Edward near the door with the speaker the entire time, raised her
voice. She was holding that scrap book in her hand again, and called out name after name.

“It’s your time, you can do this!” She shouted. “Maria, Carlisle, Anthony, Monique… We’re here for you,
it’s your time.”

Alejandro landed on a windowsill, perched for a moment to regain his bearings and assess the threats.
The shifter packs were scrambling to get back to him near the entryway to the room, and across on the
other side were the new voices. His attention focused on the Professors, rage entering his batlike
expression for the first time. Pressing both feet against the wall, he launched himself off and towards
the two on the other side of the room. Wings wide, he covered the distance in seconds.

Edward played his role. He stood his ground in front of Gayle and opened fire. He got two shots off in
the time it took Alejandro to close, and braced himself against the impact of the nightmare coming to
kill him.

“You’re too late!” Gayle shouted, moments before the creature enveloped them both and began tearing
with teeth and claws.
Tex and crew gathered their bearings, whirling around to focus as the Geminis and Crescent Cuts ran
past him to close on their target once more. “Enough of this horse shit,” He shouted, blood pouring from
the side of his face. Raising his hands, he and his cabal summoned forth energies and focused as a
group.

A translucent figure of Gayle rose from the bloody mass underneath Alejandro. She caught the
creature’s attention, who had to stop ravaging their corpses to process this new player in the room.
Gayle’s ghost smiled at him, “You’re too late.” She repeated.

As one, a dozen other ghosts came through the wall and floor at the Red Court vampire. The onslaught
was quick, and certainly caught the creature by surprise, causing him to stumble backward in defense.
The spirits passed harmlessly through him, his wild swings and snaps meeting empty air.

The two shifter packs he backed into were not nearly as incorporeal.

Alejandro was stopped in his tracks as the first wolves pounced on him from behind. The Geminis tore
through one of his wings, removing his advantage of flight with a few deft snaps. The Crescent Cuts
went for the legs, tearing at tendons to ensure the creature couldn’t run.

The vampire twisted, catching the last two of the Crescent Cuts with deep cuts from his claws, sending
them sprawling near the fireplace, but was then forced to his knees as the Geminis piled onto his back
and wings.

“For Dawn! IMPETU!” Tex screamed.

The combined energies of he and the cabal released, sending lances of force towards the vampire. Skin
peeled away from its torso, throat, and face, exposing sinew and bone beneath. The creature folded in
on itself, pushed back with the shifter pack still hanging on, and crunched into the wall behind it.

Several of the Geminis were caught in the blast, suffering a broken bone or two, but Alejandro took the
meat of the strike. He slumped, back broken and unmoving.

Tex and the Geminis wavered for a few moments, ensuring the creature was dead, then slumped down
in chairs, or on the floor where they stood.

“Grace,” Tawny warned. “Be careful. We’ll be there with you, but if there’s another trap like the last
one, we’re all dead.”

“I understand, Tawny.” She smiled, fingering the amulet of her mother’s court around her neck. “Don’t
worry, we’ll make it work.”
Tawny nodded and shifted to a red fox, joining the rest of her pack. She looked up at Grace and nodded,
prompting the Changeling to proceed.

Grace gathered herself and began sneaking down hallways. The other groups had taken the upper and
lower floors, assuming the majority would be in the basement. Tex and the Professors took part of the
main floor, and it was their job to clear out the other side. After the initial encounter with Red Court
ambushes, they needed to be sure the main assault teams didn’t get hit from behind.

Fortunately, the Changeling came from stealthy stock, and the animals behind her were next to silent.

The estate was huge, but made a certain degree of sense when you paid attention. It was laid out with
the flow of visitors in mind, and seemed to guide them from one activity to the next. Grace used her
intuition, and snuck down a hall. She was taking a long, circumventing route. One that didn’t seem
logical. If she was an ambusher, she would be setting up proverbial roadblocks, but if she didn’t move
like she was doing a sweep of the floor, she could potentially get behind them.

The route took them to the back of the house, windows overlooking a steep cliffside. Apparently part of
the defenses was the simple inaccessibility of the location.

Grace looked back at Tawny, who cocked her foxy face with a puzzled expression. Grace pushed her
palms down, mouthing ‘Trust me’.

The fox squeaked quietly in concern, but made no other objections.

The party continued down their odd path, moving through a few other corridors, before Grace held up
her hand. She looked back to see the pack of animals were all perked up, ears forward. They had
apparently heard it, too.

Voices…

“I heard gunshots upstairs, but nothing else down here…”

“Do we move? Maybe search them out? I know Helvin, and if he’s here, I’d rather he not have the run of
the place.”

“Kinda defeats the purpose of a trap if we’re going to move, right?”

“A trap doesn’t work if no one springs it, either…”

Grace wasn’t used to getting fed straight lines like that, so she took the opportunity.

The amulet on her chest glowed as she channeled the powers of her mother’s court. Hands
outstretched, she reached for the powers of Summer, urging the elements they represented to help
them here.
Drywall cracked, making way for wood studs, now animated and slithering out towards the Red Court
ambushers. They opened fire out of sheer surprise, shooting ineffectually into the walls that were
attacking them.

One of the men was grabbed by studs, aluminum nails jutting out and puncturing skin to further gain
purchase.

The other men fell back, now scared of the shadows they were hiding in. It didn’t help them, as the walls
continued to buckle and harass them, pulling them to the floor.

Tawny watched, wide eyed, but stayed behind Grace as she worked her court’s magic. They could
attack, but it may be best to hold back while this unfamiliar assault resolved.

Grace grinned wildly, jogging forward as she pressed the powers granted to her. She hopped over the
first man immobilized by wood, letting Tawny’s pack take him out of commission while he was
immobilized. She reveled in the strength, stepping over a second man whose gun arm was pinned to the
floor. Hands extended, she guided the natural aspects of the house to chase their would-be-murderers,
letting the framework they once took safe haven in be their downfall.

She stepped over the second to last man, approaching the final member of the squad as he struggled
against the quickly encircling bonds.

“Tell Helvin I said hi!” He spat at her, then released the object in his hand.

The grenade’s pin had been pulled, and the spoon had already been released. Grace realized in the
fraction of a second she had left that her only hope was to harness the power again and pray it was
enough.

She fortified her hope for their future, the faith in their cause, and the love she held for her friends. The
emotions bolstered her Spirit and channeled through the amulet, causing it to grow brighter as the floor
and ceiling caved in to form a barrier.

The explosion lifted her off her feet, throwing her back through the pile of wreckage entombing the
vampires behind her. Shrapnel pierced through the makeshift barriers she erected, puncturing her skin
in half a dozen places.

Tawny and her pack hunched down, protected by both the barriers and Grace herself, though the
explosion still reached them, peppering them with shrapnel and debris.

The explosion subsided, leaving everyone on the floor in various heaps of blood and rubble.
Adam landed roughly, the drop high and the landing uneven. He tumbled to the ground, face and hands
pressing into the dirt.

Pavement landed and took the impact on his knees, a thin layer of ice appearing right before impact,
only to shatter and fall from his clothing after absorbing some of the force.

Dowry stood above both of them, roaring at the darkness and standing protectively over the Paranet as
they gathered.

Father Daniel continued his chants as he moved into the black, leaving the safety of the light and
allowing his faith to guide him forward. Since he had started, the persistence of the attacks on the circle
had slowed, though it was uncertain what other effects he was having.

“There!” Babs and Nicole yelled in unison. They joined hands, standing together and extending their
right palms forward. More motes of flame launched from their hands, illuminating shadows in the
darkness as they passed. The amulet glowed on Nicole’s chest, flashing in time with both of their
mystical strikes.

The Shepherds joined together, moving alongside the embers launched by the witches, following them
as if there were a guided path into the darkness. The Shepherds spoke prayers, and began to glow as a
group. The leader, standing in the center with the amulet given from Summer, felt his voice amplify and
lash out with power. Each word clapped in the chests of the Paranet like a firework, and elicited hisses
from the darkness ahead of them.

A muzzle flash illuminated the side of the cavern near Father Daniel. There was
only the single shot, and it briefly illuminated the image of Marisol, the Red Court
Influencer. Dark patches of char covered portions of her skin, showing the effect
of the man’s Faith on her physical form.

The Father stopped his preaching, holding his side as he slumped. It didn’t look
fatal, but his ability to continue his chants was cut short.

Almost as if on cue, a muzzle flash erupted near the Shepherds. Their leader, still
chanting and continuing to glow brighter, took a bullet between the eyes. His
head snapped back, the glow fading immediately as his body fell to the ground.

The flash illuminated the man Pavement identified as Peter, who was
quickly concealed in shadows once more. The area around him
seemed to redouble in blackness, shadows stretching and enveloping
the very air about him. Similar to what preceded the stairs collapsing,
a hollow pop echoed, and a wave of darkness exploded out from the
shadows. The remaining Shepherds flew out and collided with Babs
and Nicole. The shockwave seemed to peel away the vitality of the
entire group as it washed over them, rotting skin and stealing breath
as they fell. By the time they hit the floor they looked as if they had been dead for weeks.

Adam recovered, pushing himself up and drawing his pistol and cross. With both brandished in front of
him, he began screaming incoherently, firing into the darkness as he advanced.

A wicked, mocking laugh echoed against the walls as Adam was treated to a horrific strobe light show.
With each shot the Baron would appear a dozen feet away from his previous position, sometimes closer,
others farther away, and his visage was one of a predator toying with its prey.

“Help him, Dowry.” Pavement spoke to his friend, a solemn expression on his lips. “And thank you… for
everything.”

Dowry chuffed out a breath in what could be interpreted as sorrow, a large, meaty hand patting
Pavement as gently as it could on his head. She then turned, howling with enough rage to cause dust to
kick up from the ground, and tore into the darkness after Peter.

Pavement inhaled deeply, the scent of blood and death strong on the air. More importantly, he picked
out the scents of charred flesh hiding in the dark. He smelled warmth coming from Marisol, whether
from her own flesh or from the blood she gorged herself on before the battle. Between the two, he
identified her location, and knew she was crouched and ready to spring a few dozen yards away.

Pavement allowed a small smile and gently touched the amulet around his neck. The trinket felt warm
to his skin, but made him recoil as if shocked. It was like nails on a chalkboard, or chewing tinfoil, and he
hated having it around his neck. He withstood the discomfort, however, channeling his Spirit through
the talisman as he moved forward towards his prey.

Marisol’s position shifted from a confident position of attack, to one of wary defense.

Pavement picked up speed, breaking out into a sprint as the amulet glowed on his chest. The light was
brilliant, holding the power of the sun and exuding its rays.

Marisol shrieked as the light struck her, feeling her skin burn away. She covered her eyes and fell back,
attempting to shrug off her flesh suit and fly.

Pavement cleared the last 25 feet with a leap, ice forming on his fingers and sharpening into deadly
spikes as he lashed forward. The strike pierced Marisol through the shoulder blade, pinning her wings
inside her flesh mask and into her torso, driving her to the ground. His other hand followed, entering her
side and digging for organs.

She struggled, lashing back with a clawed hand, and finding purchase with the claws on her feet, but
Pavement did not relent his attack. He allowed her to wound him, maintain his composure as she
scraped through thin sheets of ice on his chest and legs, ensuring his attack would not need to be
pressed again.

Her screams were sharp, but brief, and Marisol quickly succumbed to the injuries caused by the
combination of the miniature sun around Pavement’s neck, and physical trauma dealt by his
supernatural gifts of Winter.

When she stopped struggling, Pavement took the amulet off his neck, tossing it away in disgust. He
rolled off of her corpse, breathing in deeply before collapsing onto his side.

On the other side of the massive basement Adam reloaded, fumbling while trying to juggle a gun, a
magazine, and a holy symbol all at once.

“Alejandro told me about your parley,” He sneered. “The murders and weregild demanded by your
people. The thing we laughed about the most was the uncertainty of both sides.”

Adam finally slapped the magazine into place, gripping the slide and ratcheting a bullet into the
chamber.

“Your side wasn’t sure which deaths we were truly responsible for, and we couldn’t be bothered to keep
track of the herd we select for meals,” He laughed as Adam raised his gun again. “So if you did lose
someone, I am happy to reunite you with them soon.”

Adam resumed firing. His resolve was wavering, sweat pouring from his brow.

Then Dowry roared behind him.

Adam shook and dodged to the side out of pure gut reaction, though Dowry safely navigated around
him and charged the Baron’s position.

The Baron took this threat seriously, quieting down and meeting the Troll in physical combat. Dowry had
him on size, and he was tired from his sorcery exploits, but he still had plenty of reserve. He pounced at
the last second, jumping through Dowry’s clasping hands and landing on her upper torso. Claws came
down, grasping the side of her throat and top of her head, feet sprouting claws through his boots to gain
more purchase on her flesh.

Dowry howled, batting at the vampire in attempt to stop him from blinding her or slashing her throat.

Adam focused, looking at the large shadows moving in the darkness. His night vision was fucked, the
flashes from his muzzle ensuring that, but even with perfect sight there were two creatures engaged in a
melee. While he didn’t care if he shot the freak, he had no desire to waste ammo or stop the Troll from
killing the vampire.
Then a pair of figures appeared in front of him.

A ghostly image of Gayle materialized, smiling at Adam as she did. She led someone from behind,
floating to the side to make way for another woman to come into view.

As Adam’s jaw dropped, Gayle faded away, her efforts to reunite husband and wife successful.

Words were spoken.

Tears were shed.

Dowry roared.

Marisol screamed in the distance.

Adam nodded, speaking softly to his wife as she floated backwards.

He followed her, reaching into his pocket to retrieve her picture. The image stuck on the end of a metal
pin attached to a ring.

She smiled at him, floating faster.

He began to run to keep up, clutching the picture and ring tightly.

She spoke final words to him, her ethereal breath reaching his mind, and his mind only, then faded
away.

Adam continued running, seeing the end of the battle of Peter and Dowry inches behind the vanished
form of his wife.

Dowry cried out, laying back on the ground with the Baron perched atop her, one hand forcing her head
to the side, fangs dug in her neck as he drained her. The Baron was badly wounded from the encounter,
but he had come out the victor, and was enjoying his spoils.

Adam dove forward, tackling the Baron to the ground. Using the force of his momentum he drove the
pin down and into the vampire’s flesh, the image of his wife now stuck to his enemy’s forehead.

The Baron almost laughed, reaching up and grasping Adam by the throat, about to say something clever
before ripping his jugular out, but Adam beat him to it.

“I did this to you.” His words seethed through his teeth as he pulled his jacket open.

There were several grenades attached inside, one with the pin removed, and the spoon popped. The
Baron didn’t have time to put together the irony that the wife of the man that he killed a year back was
attached to his face by the pin of the incendiary grenade about to kill him.

As Marisol breathed her final breath on the other side of the basement under Pavement’s icy claws,
Adam and the Baron of Colorado exploded in a ball of fire.
The estate was quiet for a few minutes. The few remaining cells of the Paranet began picking
themselves up, if they could. The rest waited for others to rescue them, or bleed out if no one came.

Samantha White had climbed down into the basement, tending to Pavement’s wounds as he quietly
slept. She would move to Father Black next, but there was no one else in the room who could have
survived.

The group took in a collective sigh of relief, realizing they had done the impossible, and somehow
survived.

Then the lights flickered.

A sense of foreboding and dread, similar to the crawl through the Never Never, trickled down
everyone’s spine.

Lights flickered again, many going off and staying dark.

Something else flooded into the house, and bile rose in the throats of the survivors as they understood
implicitly that they were being hunted.

The cells on the first floor were the first to see the new threats. Tawny witnessed shadowy creatures
crawling across the walls and ceiling. Their squat and thick forms were coated in rubbery muscle.

Tex, the Geminis, and Crescent cuts were treated with the sight of giant spiders crawling into the dining
room from the doorway Tex had blown open.

The Strider pack retreated, wounded, but still willing to defend themselves, and watched in horror as
the Hobs began collecting bodies. The leader of the turned Oath Keepers was first, followed by Grace,
and then the rest of them. When they got closer, snarls and hisses made the creatures stop and
consider. They looked at the bounty they had already collected, and decided it was not worth a fight to
get more.

They took their spoils and slunk back through the estate.

Tex and the Geminis banded together. The exhausted wizard and the injured shifters watched as the
creatures crawled around them, dozens strong. They tested the reactions of the survivors, determining
that they were apparently well enough to cause damage should they need to, and instead collected
Alejandro’s body.

As the spiders started pulling away the Crescent Cuts, a few of the wolves whimpered weakly, showing
they were indeed still alive.
As Tex and the Geminis rose to object, a wall of giant arachnids blocked their path. They had to watch as
their still breathing allies were dragged from the room, and out into the halls.

Mr. B had pulled himself up into a sitting position, field dressing some of his wounds to ensure he did
not bleed out. However he was having trouble standing, and would likely need an escort out. This made
the Hobs coming upstairs that much more concerning.

He almost wished the sprinklers had not come on and doused the flames from the Molotov, as these
creatures didn’t seem more pleasant than the fire. They did, however, treat him with the same level of
deference as Tawny when he raised his gun at them. He avoided starting another fight, watching as they
collected the bodies of the Mafia, Iroh, the fallen Mulligans, Pathwalkers, and Abe, who had dropped
unconscious from blood loss minutes before.

They eyed Mr. B as they left, towing their feast away. As they left his vision, Mr. B’s strength gave out,
and the gun dropped to his side. Minutes later, the Neighborhood Watch, who had still been hiding in
the room they dove into when the fight began, came out, gathered Mr. B up, and ushered him away.

In the basement, Pavement’s eyes shot open. He looked at Samantha and the care she had given him.

“You need to hide,” He said, urgency in his voice.

“No, I’m not done yet.” She said, tears running down his face. “You probably won’t die, but these
wounds are deep, and I nee-“

“You don’t understand.” He said, a thump on the floor above him accentuating his words. “You need to
hide now.”

Samantha looked up, terror in her face. She looked back to Pavement, who nodded encouragingly, and
gave her a little push.

She fell away from him, scrambling off and into the darkness of a corner.

Creatures began climbing into the basement. A few small ones at first, followed by more of the large
spiders, and finally a gargantuan octet of legs. The final creature put Shelob to shame, and radiated the
eerie feeling the Paranet felt as they walked through the ways. The creature was powerful, and sent a
physical chill through the air in the room.

The lesser creatures gathered up the charred remains of The Bereaved, Peter, the fallen Paranet, and
then came for Pavement.

Samantha watched in horror as spiders the size of pit bulls webbed up his form and dragged him away.
The procession left then left the way it came, taking the chill air and sense of foreboding with it.

Character Status Killed By

Excelsior Dead Judith/Thomas
Jack Shaw Dead Judith/Thomas
 The Lost Boys Dead Judith/Thomas
Rusty Badges Dead Judith/Thomas
Mulligans Dead Mafia
Iroh Dead Mafia
Fredo Dead Abe/Pathwalkers
Meyer Dead Abe/Pathwalkers/Mr. B
Vito Dead Mr. B
Tommy Dead Mr. B
Gallo Dead Abe/Pathwalkers
Ciro Dead Abe/Pathwalkers
Joey Dead Abe/Pathwalkers & Mr. B
Mario Dead Abe/Pathwalkers
Bugs Dead Abe/Pathwalkers
Giancarlo Gorlomi Dead Mr. B
Abe/Pathwalkers Dead Mafia/Winter Court
Mr. B Alive: -4 Body N/A
Neighborhood Watch Alive: Uninjured N/A
Strider (Tawny) Alive: -2 Body N/A
Grace Dead Oath Keepers
Carlos Dead Grace/Strider
Oath Keepers Dead Grace/Strider
Jeffery Witherspoon Dead Alejandro
Brother Francis Dead Alejandro/Winter Court
Ute Shifter Kin Dead Alejandro
Gemenis Alive: -5 Body N/A
Crescent Cuts Dead Alejandro/Winter Court
The Professors Dead Alejandro
Brother Francis Dead Alejandro/Winter Court
Tex Archana and Crew Alive: -2 Body N/A
Alejandro Dead Tex and The Professors
Father Daniel Black Dead Marisol/Winter Court
The Shepherds Dead Peter
Babs and Nicole Dead Peter
Dowry Dead Peter
Pavement Alive: -7 Body N/A
Bob Shaw Dead Marisol
Judy Marshal Dead Marisol
The Storm Devils Dead Peter
 The Bereaved (Adam) Dead Peter
Samantha White Alive N/A
Peter, the Baron Sorcerer Dead The Bereaved (Adam)
Marisol Dead Pavement