Utter chaos flooded the underground.

Everything seemed to explode into action at once, from the ranks of knights charging into the fray to the back hatch of the van rocketing open violently as Layla accurately assessed that things had gone

terribly

wrong.

One one side, scores of veteran monster hunters in gleaming steel plate mail unshouldered heavy pikes, fanning out across the flat empty parking lot to make space for their brothers behind them. The disciplined rhythm of their footsteps stamped against the pavement like drums of war, doing their best to draw fire away from the scrawnier ranged support units preparing spells and javelins that relied on them to draw fire.

And draw fire they did. Directly opposed to them, Guillaume was hurriedly being dragged back behind the walls of the loading bay where his own men had entered from, careless suppressing fire ricocheting off support pillars, the ceiling and the floor just as often as it did the plates of the Landed Knights armor.

The only reason they hadn't been shot at yet was because they'd refrained from firing back in the opening moments. The glass windows of the van were smashed into sand as round after round tore through the air overhead, forcing Layla to claw her way underneath the van and draw the fog in close around her as concealment while giving Henry barely enough time to scramble back to his knees before he had to duck behind the pallet, holding the artifact close to his chest.

Jesus Christ!! His thoughts were flying at a mile a minute from the sudden spike in nearby danger, but took longer for them to spit out anything coherent. As he gathered his wits in the comparative safety of his hiding spot, two very important questions surfaced.

First off, what are the bloody Knights doing here? Second, couldn't they have waited another five minutes for me to get my stuff and leave?!

While his brain struggled to catch up, however, the rapidly devolving situation around him had other plans in mind.

Guillaume was currently very distracted with keeping the Landed Knights from closing in on his men. He had to be dragged by the shoulders away from the worst of the fighting by two of his own footsoldiers, and his head was constantly jerking back and forth with his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. You couldn't see when or what he was doing specifically, but the results were obvious looking at the battle as a whole.

Thugs would suddenly change targets to focus one specific Knight who'd overextended himself, pikemen would randomly let go of their weapons or turn them on their own allies. Infantry formations in an area would get disrupted for a brief period. Wounded men would toss themselves into the fray with absolutely no regard for their own lives. And the list of irrational behavior went on.

The only thing saving any of these men from permanent domination was the sheer multitude of angles the Gentleman's Club was being pressed from. Overall, the more poorly equipped gangsters and lowlifes were on the back foot, but having a Devil on their side meant that they were retreating quite effectively.

Despite splitting his attention at least a dozen ways, Guillaume's rapid mental invasions were proving more than sufficient for buying the time needed to get himself to safety.

Something that Evelyn was not about to let happen.

Metal wings roaring to life, sharpened steel flared as she blitzed over the heads of several closer combatants. Aiming to take one head in particular.

But, as fast as she was, the Landed Knights still had an ace in the hole ready to be put into play. Suddenly, she found her flight path blocked by William – Sir Henwood's lance, twisting and swinging towards her metallic frame like a gargantuan baseball bat and forcing her to bank sharply to the right in order to just barely dodge the flat of it.

With a heavy stride, the goliath suit of armor got ready to battle its David.

"So, the Harpy decides to finally enter the fray," the commander greeted coldly, interposing himself firmly between her and the rest of the Gentleman's Club beating a fighting retreat back into the building. "Stand back, men! I shall keep this tool of wanton destruction from bringing you harm. Press on, for our homelands!"

A cheer rose up among the Knights, matched almost singlehandedly by a guttural roar of frustration on Evelyn's part.

"Get out of my way!!", she cried as she reoriented herself midair. Air Domain magic flared to life as she tried desperately to maneuver her way around the heavy armored suit, only to find herself blocked at every turn.

"I'm afraid I will not be letting that happen," came Sir Henwood's terse reply.

His nonchalance only made her more furious. Taunted by her quarry inadvertently escaping, she decided that the only way out was going to be through.

Their battle began in earnest, steel raking against steel as slashing wings met hammering fists. Henry realized that he was completely out of his depth.

I need something – anything! – that can get us out of this situation right now!

Come on, think! There's got to be something in this princely ransom of supplies that can turn things around!

He was loath to break down the only source of cover he had by even an inch, but as he stood it was probably the only set of tools he had at his disposal. The magic from his crystal was still down for the count, his pistol only had five shots left, and the only other item he was carrying right now was an artifact that he couldn't use, but needed to make absolutely sure he didn't lose. Frantically, he upturned some of the topmost boxes, hoping there was something in the topmost elements that could come to his rescue.

Let's see… one of the Club's standard issue Luty SMGs, a bit of ammo for it, some Fire Domain crystals, a bulletproof vest with a hole in it, an empty satchel – wait, not empty. What's this paper inside here?

As he clumsily removed the slip from inside, Layla stirred from her hiding spot and poked her head out where only he'd be able to see her.

"Henry, we need to get moving!" Her voice was barely audible over the din of clanging steel, gunfire and the occasional explosion. "Guillaume's getting away! Get William's attention and tell him to stop trying to fight Evelyn, or something!"

"Wha- oh, er…" He quickly shoved the paper leaflet back in the bag, along with the 8-ball since there happened to be extra space inside. Both were equally important, he'd realized after the brief perusal.

"Focus, already!", she shouted. "At this rate, we're going to end up shot to death!"

"I'm trying, okay?!", he retorted heatedly. "And believe me, I'm acutely aware of my own mortality for once!"

A random bullet dented the van a little too close for her comfort, and she decided to press in behind the pallet beside him. As he was quickly discarding a small box full of gauze and antiseptic, probably the worst thing that could have happened to them in that moment happened.

Layla's fans noticed she was there.

"It's the Shroudwalker!", a voice from the Knight's side of the battlefield rose in exclamation. "The Gentlman's Club are holding the Shroudwalker captive!"

A rising cacophony of similar voices began parroting those words from inside the Landed Knights' battle lines, leaving Henry bewildered at how fast it was taken up.

"What?!", Henry hissed, drowned out by the rapidly spreading misinterpretation of events. "That's not what's happening at all!"

"Van Helsing Cadre," Sir Henwood directed towards one of the recent groups entering the breach as a reserve force. "Secure our fair lady at once!"

The knights in question raised a shout of approval, which their commander paid little attention to as Evelyn pressed the attack even further with buffeting, gale-force winds. The armor shook and staggered back, ceding ground grudgingly as his squire clung to the handholds on the back plate for dear life.

Henry paid little attention to their brawl. He was more worried about the fireteam of knights beelining their position.

Maybe there's a chance they'll see reason?

"Hey! Same team! Same team!"

Henry poked his head above the cover of the pallet's contents, raising both arms in the air and trying to wave off the oncoming foot soldiers. A whole freaking pike sailed through the air and stuck itself nearly half a meter deep into the sliding door of the van in response.

"Shit!"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He recoiled slightly from the feeling of wind whipping against his face from where the shaft disturbed the air, but it seemed that his mind was made up for him now.

"Okay, new plan!" He threw open the damaged door, spearhead snapping off the shaft partway through its travels. "Give us something to hide behind while I get the engine going!"

"But, Evelyn-!"

"-Can take care of herself, clearly. Us, on the other hand, are at risk of becoming shish kebabs if we don't ditch these crazies! We break contact, we find another way to tackle the problem, and we head back in and finish what we started. Until then, we are leaving!"

She was… visibly torn by the decision. Henry didn't like the idea of ditching their newfound friend either, however temporary it might be. Evelyn was clearly hurting, seeing red, stuck in tunnel vision trying to bring an end to the man who'd tormented her night and day for a long, long time now. She needed help…

And right now, there was nothing they could do to help her.

As much as they hated the reality of the situation, neither of them could deny it. So, with a heavy heart, Layla helped him get their escape rolling. A dense wall of fog bloomed between themselves and the inbound knights, blocking the entire minivan from view. It wasn't solid, but spoiling their aim was just as good when they only needed a few seconds to do what they needed to do.

Henry swung himself into the driver's seat, collapsing into the cushions before cranking the sputtering ignition to life. He didn't bother with the seatbelt. No time, the knights were almost through the cloud already. Matter of fact, there was barely enough time for Layla to slam the door shut in their faces, and he didn't stick around longer than that.

The engine bristled to life, sounding almost animalistic as the damage from sporadic perforation made itself audibly known. Had it been a properly functioning enchanted engine, the noise would have been minimal… but this inscription was clearly only mostly functioning at this point.

There's a difference between mostly functioning, and all functioning, Henry thought to himself distractedly as he spun the wheel and stepped on the gas. Layla tumbled around in the back, unable to get seated in the hair-trigger amount of time it had taken him to react to the door slamming shut.

If it's mostly functioning, it means we still have a bit of a chance left. If it's all functioning, then why the bloody hell would we be so worried over nothing?!

With a turn sharp enough to likely have Layla staring daggers at him for weeks after this was over, the abused vehicle bounced onto the ramp leading to the surface and away from the brunt of the fighting. But they weren't out of the woods yet.

The next floor up painted a similar picture to the battle playing out below. Granted, this was more like a loose collection of random skirmishes than an established frontline like it was further in, but the main thrust of things was still very much the same.

Guns and jury-rigged mana crystals on one side, proper enchantments and explosive javelins on the other. That the Knights were perfectly willing and able to use weapons that had been designed specifically to counter packs of wolves against human targets just… didn't sit right with him.

He spun the wheel again to take the next ramp. Still in the basement anyways, so there was only one way they could go, at this point. Layla had also had a chance to properly buckle herself in, so his reckless driving was… probably at least tolerable in her eyes, now. He fastened his own seatbelt once he had the chance. Better safe than sorry. Especially since he only had one life to give for the time being.

Up another floor. Similar battleground, same hole smashed through the floor that he had to swerve around. Try again the next floor up. Again, same thing. And another hole.

Just how much of this car park did William smash through to get to Guillaume?! Did he enter from the roof?!?!

Only a few more floors now until they hit the surface. Do they try and risk it on the streets for a bit, or-?

As he pulled onto the ground floor, the sound of baying howls and the sight of several packs of wolves bounding down the ruined streets towards the building made up his mind for him.

"Up it is."

"What?"

Layla looked confused at his sudden outburst for a moment, until he swerved up the ramp yet again and she got a good look at what he was seeing outside. Choking on a gasp of her own, they took the only route available to them and ascended further up the concrete freeway.

Veering past the sporadic groups of Knights, it seemed that they had anticipated this outcome. One of the groups closest to the hole, upon seeing the imminent arrival of the horde of beasts, struck a road flare against the ground and dropped it down into the chasm. He got a good look of the glaring red light falling down in his one functioning rear view mirror, shortly followed by a full mobilization of every Knight present toward the breach.

The remaining fighters from the Gentleman's Club were left bewildered at the Knights deciding to effectively retreat forwards, but had no intention of sticking around to get a better idea of what would happen to them. Freed from the close-quarters combat they'd been occupied with, scores of idle vehicles roared to life around them as every last scrap of mechanized support the Club had was rapidly mobilized to either face the oncoming wolf threat, or slip out of harm's way just before the noose tightened around them all.

An effort that was hurried along even quicker when everyone realized just what the Landed Knight's tactics actually entailed. With a quakelike tremor that shook the park to the very foundations, Henry just caught a fleeting glimpse of Sir Henwood's gargantuan armor taking a flying leap out of the pit to cause havoc on thug and wolf alike, before he turned another corner and careened up towards the next floor.

"That was William!", Layla exclaimed surprisedly. "But if he's up here, what happened to Evelyn?"

"Well, either they beat her – doubtful – and she's been turned to metal scraps at the bottom of a Landed Knight dogpile… Or, more likely, she's currently doing her best impression of a blender and chasing Guillaume and his men through the basement floors of the office."

He pushed the gas pedal even further, the speedometer reaching the red line as the engine screamed in protest. "Unfortunately, we've only got one route right now that lets us find out. Hang on tight, we're going back in where we're needed."

"Henry? What are you-"

Her words were cut short as the van fishtailed around the final turn, onto the very roof of the car park.

The violent shaking from the lower levels was getting much worse now. Howls and pained yelps of the wolves closing into melee range with Sir Henwood's tailor-made hunting gear reached his ears through the nonexistent car windows even from this distance.

Honestly, those wolves really had some pipes on them on the rare occasions when they expressed true pain. A real vocal range to their agony. Henry wasn't one to enjoy that sort of thing, per se, but then again he wasn't exactly feeling sympathetic for the monsters, either.

Especially when those that made it past Sir Henwood went straight on to killing any human they could get their claws on. Plenty of normal screaming in that mix too. He doubted much of it was from the Knights side of the conflict.

Was this just another phase to this little incursion of theirs? Strategically herding wolves into the Stratford area to soften the Club up, followed by surgically striking their main defenses and leadership once an opportunity to move presented itself, so that the beasts could swoop in and mop up the stragglers?

It was… brutally efficient, if that was the case. Provided they had a means of their own to escape or fight their way out more or less unscathed, he'd even go so far as to call it strategic genius. The enemy of your enemy, while not necessarily your friend, could still mess up your other enemy plenty if you gave them a reason to. And out of everything in Hallow London, the last thing that werewolves seemed to want was a reason.

They just enjoyed the slaughter. Plain and simple. Any way, anywhere, any time. Participation was its own reward, it would seem.

But… one thought was nagging him as he lined up the van with a roughly ramp-shaped pile of rubble facing the office building.

Was their goal just to kill Guillaume, or do they have another objective in mind?

"Uh… Henry… that's a five story drop with a solid wall on the far side of it…"

When they'd been pressuring Guillaume into a retreat… they probably could have pressured him much harder. After all, what was really stopping them from tossing an explosive javelin his way and being done with the whole ordeal? He'd been right there, out in the open for them to take. And yet they'd ignored the opportune shot.

Why on earth would you let the mind manipulator live? Especially when he was actively manipulating minds at that time?

"Okay… that drop's getting really close now…"

So, they wanted him alive, most likely. But they also wanted him to feel the need to get away. To crawl back into the deepest panic room he had and fortify up. They'd engineered it to be his only option, since they'd arrived from the motor pool to begin with and brought the wolves down around them to keep him from escaping on foot. Whatever they were after, it was something Guillaume knew, but wouldn't willingly tell them.

Anything else they stripped from this place in the meantime was just icing. Stashes, the mage-slave holding pens that were somewhere on the premises…

Layla herself, once it became known she was here, apparently…

"Jesus, you're actually serious about the jump?! This isn't some action movie, you know!"

"I know it's not!", he finally yelled in response. "But I can't see any other way we make this happen, either!"

"That doesn't exactly inspire me with confide-"

"Hang on!!"

With a sickening bump, the van accelerated off the top of the hill of rubble and entered freefall. For a singular, hair raising second, a feeling of weightlessness enveloped Henry, his body pressing upward against the restraints of his seatbelt as the slim gap between the office and the parking complex – originally intended as a shortcut for foot traffic – seemed to stretch out below them like an infinite abyss. Always falling, never landing.

The feeling of cold wrought iron flashed in his hand for a second as unwelcome memories resurfaced in that moment. The one-eyed gaze of what would later become Grimfang, the terror beast of Greenwich, peering balefully into his very soul with eyes full of hatred in those few panicked moments during the First Witching Hour. A cold chill went down his spine as the memory threatened to consume him.

And, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Though that was more due to the impact with the glass windows on the far side of the jump than anything else. The collision knocked the wind out of him, chest bouncing off the steering wheel as the airbag failed to deploy and the seatbelt failed to hold him in place completely. With a last, mournful keen, the engine of the van died on the far side, plowed cleanly into the side of the office building with a billowing plume of dust.

Henry undid his seatbelt and rolled out of the drivers seat wheezing. Layla, having both more distance from the point of impact and a better build to brace herself with, exited shortly after but in much better condition. Actually was standing on her own two feet, and everything. Good for her. He'd join her in a minute, once he caught his breath again.

"That was… monumentally stupid," was all she could manage to say as she failed miserably to shake the dust out of her hair.

"Yeah," Henry agreed. "But when have I not been, anyways?"

He coughed a bit more. The cough turned into a raspy laugh. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at her and just… laughed.

"You can take lead on this next part," he said. "I've had enough bright ideas for one day."

That got a snicker out of her. Reaching a hand out to him, she helped him up to his feet and dusted his shirt off a bit on the way up.

"Come on," she urged. "We've got a gang leader to catch up with."

< -|- -|- >

Evelyn slid out of her battle trance to a world of blood.

This was always the worst part, she thought. Sure, she'd killed before. More times than one should have to count. Most of which would, if she'd had her way, never have happened in the first place. Now that she'd had a choice, and massacred so easily anyways… it was enough to bring back phantom memories of her stomach churning.

Not a single survivor remained in the lowest level of the car park. Knight, GC, it didn't matter. They'd been annihilated like wheat chaff during harvest all the same.

All because she'd let herself get lost in her own mind. Again. This time, not because she was forced to, but rather that she'd fallen back on old habits when the combat had become too intense for her to handle on her own. The battle trance was something she'd originally used to escape the horrors she'd been forced to inflict on others. Now, for the first time, she'd used it to perpetuate those same horrors.

Her labored breathing rattled in her ears, the deep lungfuls of air causing stinging pain to flare up her side with each breath. She couldn't believe that so many of them would come down this way after Sir Henwood had exited back through the breach. From the sounds reaching her from above, it would seem that he was still going strong up there, a lone man raging against a force of nature. And winning.

Let him battle it out up there, she thought to herself. I've got my own fight to finish, and not that much time to do it in.

Henry's crystal, miraculously, was still unbroken and still in her hand. Throughout the entire fight, she'd managed to protect it, just as it had protected her from Guillaume.

And what a freeing sensation that had been. Standing before the man she loathed with every fiber of her being, and having the mere capability to think her true beliefs of the man to herself without repercussions. There had been something truly cathartic about the realization.

She straightened, wings tucking in behind her as she limped toward the loading bay Guillaume had escaped into. As his former right hand, she had a pretty good idea of which hiding places he would try to squirrel himself away in, something she imagined he was well aware of, too.

… Might mean that he'd try a different spot, then. She'd just have to check them all, if she wanted to be certain.

Tearing a door off its hinges with her servo arm, she broke into the main stairwell of the building and began to climb.

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