When Eri awoke she would find herself in a dark room, with barely a sliver of light slipping through the crack in the door across from her. It was cramped and cluttered with objects that were masked by the overall gloom, most large and metallic in construction. Music drifted in through the door; it was a piano concerto. Her hands were bound behind her back, ankles tied together to with thick and strong wire. She sat in dust, the room had been untouched for quite some time now, and every movement stirred great clouds of it upward.

The Masked Man was walking through the halls of the building, stopping outside the room where his captive waited. Pale fingers curled around the door, easing it open as he poked his head inside. He watched her from behind the mask, pale hair falling over his multi-colored eyes before boney fingers brushed it aside. The door was pushed open all the way, light steps taken inward to bring him toward Eri. He was wearing dark and heavy robes that made him seem all the thinner for the way they enveloped him so.

The Masked Man crouched before Eri, fingers curling under her chin to guide her vision up to his.

?We sent the letter and gave warning. You did not listen to us. This is not our fault, but yours.?

His grip was delicate at first, as though tentative of hurting his captive. When she spoke and lied to him, however, it was anything but. Fingers tightened, slipping from her chin to wrap firmly around her throat and squeeze with a strength unbefitting of his deceivingly frail appearance. The Masked Man rose up, dragging her up precariously to her feet while those mismatched eyes narrowed with dangerous intent.

"Do not lie to us, Detective Inspector Eri Shulman. We know you and your partner, Detective Ailbhe, have been trying to catch us." His grip tightened as though he had every intention of choking the life from Eri then and there. But his fingers released her soon after, falling to his side. "You have gotten awfully close. We warned you with our letter. We are good, what we are doing is for the benefit civilization."

A hand delved into his robes and withdrew a long and gleaming dagger, the blade elegantly curved and seemingly of elven design. It was drawn along her throat, the pressure put down not enough to cut the skin but definitely meant to remind her of the blade's sharpness and presence. He continued downward until falling to the wire at her feet, which was cut easily before the Masked Man rose again, crooking a finger at her as he stepped backward.

"Come, Eri." He said, that voice disarmingly charming and sweet just like the all too familiar smile his countenance held when he regarded her a few days ago under the guise of Mako. "We have work to do."

"That is where you are wrong, Detective." The Masked Man replied coolly, tucking the blade away into his voluminous robes as he turned and started for the door of the dusty room. As he neared the portal it was thrown open, letting light filter into the room enough to reveal the small and unused metal shop for what it was.

As he stepped out the vigilante turned to face her, holding the door open as another hand gestured for her to step out. "Come, Detective. Time is of the essence. The sooner we get moving along the better things will be. Your friend is on his way. Took him a few days but he found out where we have been hiding."

The Masked Man smiled that sweet smile as Eri explained what would happen if he did in fact kill her. A chuckle fell from his thin and pale lips, entirely too musical and melodic for such a sadistic killer like himself. It ended as abruptly as it had began, eyes falling flatly on her as he composed himself.

?Detective, we will kill every person who tries to get in our way.? He explained coolly and confidently. ?And we will do so without hesitation.?

?We have your Watch at a disadvantage. We will make an example out of you to show the rest of the detectives. We should be done just before Ailbhe arrives.?

A hand had fallen into his robes again, withdrawing more of the metal wire as he turned his back to her and started through the narrow hallway they had walked into. He seemed to glide with each step, more fluid and ethereal than a man should have been, and as confident as can be that he would continue with ultimate success.

?So come, Detective Shulman, we must get started.?

While Eri worked on cutting the wire that bound her hands together, the Masked Man continued to move through the halls of the building, entirely oblivious to her actions it seems. The room she was in dimmed slowly, the light fading into an increasingly thick darkness that carried with it the cold sensation of death. Sound was fleeing the room as well, as though being sucked away by a vacuum.

Blood was seeping from her palms where the sharp metal had cut them, but Eri kept working on the wire, determined to be free at least to do as much as she could to protect herself. Until, that is, light and sound began to fade from the room, making her look about in wary alarm. She could only just make out the retreating steps of her captor, swallowing nervously as gooseflesh stood out on her arms. "What the hell...?"

Her voice would go unheard in the room, the moment the words left her mouth they were seemingly sucked up by whatever was changing the atmosphere so quickly. Where there was once cold, feeling soon fled as well, an unnatural numbness literally filling the room to the brim; she was left in an infinite blackness, a soundless room without feeling.

Her heart thumped rapidly, feeling the kiss of death all around her, and Eri's fingers fumbled the metallic blade she was using. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought she had dropped the piece, but the wire gave way with a twang of sensation, freeing her hands. In the infinite blackness, she groped toward where she thought the door was, hoping that the air was not about to taken away from her as well.

The first thing her hands would touch was not the hard and cool surface of a wall or door. It was warm and moist, lacking strength and squished beneath her hands. The lack of light made the wet substance difficult to place.

Being who she was, the sensation did not make her flinch back, or even let out any sound of disgust. She had a nasty feeling she knew what was under her hands, nonetheless, hoping she was wrong. Her fingers explored the forgiving surface of the moist warmth, and finally she raised them to her nose, sniffing curiously.

As her hands explored they would slowly be drawn in, the moist surface rising to curl up and around her arms with the apparent intent to smother her. The smell was distinct, flesh left to rot for far too long in the open.

The encroaching, encompassing pull of the flesh under her hands made Eri pull back with no little difficulty. She knew Mako, the Masked Man, had no little ability with magic - he had to, to be able to commit such terrible crimes with such a fragile frame. She wouldn't put it past him to have animated something dead to do his dirty work for him.

It continued to pull, with more strength than a mound of lifeless flesh should have. It coiled around her arms and legs and dragged as she pulled, tightening and growing more insistent the more she resisted.


Nightmare scenarios flashed through Eri's mind, and she struggled wildly for a moment, panic overtaking the more rational part of her mind. But as she struggled, she realized that its grip grew stronger with her tugging. So maybe ... she stilled, forcing herself to calm down.

As she stilled the tug grew infinitely more insistent, drawing her down fully into the mass of rotting flesh. She would find herself on a hard surface, light swiftly returning to the room along with sound, and the feeling of everything else. She was in the same room she had freed herself in, the Masked Man standing in the doorway patiently. "Quit wasting time, Detective."

Eri's jaw tightened. For a terrifying moment, she had been certain that she was about to die, and then suddenly, there was no danger any longer. He was playing with her, and she did not appreciate that. In her hand, the metal cut deep as she turned to look at her captor. "What, the condemned aren't allowed to stall?"

"You're hoping Detective Ailbhe will arrive before I get started. But he won't, stalling will not save you. And I have plenty more wire to bind your hands with so you're only wasting that precious blood of yours by cutting." A hand was held out as he walked toward her. "Give me the metal."

"How did you do it?" she asked suddenly, backing up with her makeshift weapon raised before her. Not giving it over, but more than prepared to use it. "How did someone like you manage to kill all those people, and not leave a trace of forensic or magical evidence?

"I am very thorough." He replied vaguely, still holding his hand out. "The metal, detective."

"I'm dead, I can't know?" she persisted, backing away still. "It's not like I'm going to be able to tell anyone, is it?"

He stepped forward and continued to hold his hand out, not making a move for the metal shard. "I told you, I am very thorough."

"That doesn't tell me jack," she snorted, her hackles rising at his lack of answer. "Look at you, you're a weed of a man. There is no way in hell you could even lift one of those victims, let alone arrange them the way you have."

"Give me the metal, Shulman." He demanded, stepping closer to her still.

"Give me an answer," Eri countered, stepping carefully around a workbench as he advanced on her.

He continued forward without answer, obviously meaning to back her into a wall now.

Backed up, with little or no option, Eri snarled in his face and threw the metal shard as hard and as accurately as she could, aiming it for his throat if at all possible. If she missed ... well, at least it would slow him down a little, right?

As she backed to the wall and threw the shard, the metal would fly through and past him harmlessly and she'd find herself pressed against the silks that covered his chest, hands moving to close around her wrists. "Stop playing games, Detective."

She hissed in surprise and pain as his hands closed over her grazed and cut wrists, tugging suddenly to try and keep herself away from him. "Get your hands off've me!"

She'd no doubt be surprised by the surprisingly strong grip he held while turning to half drag her from the room. "Really, the more you fight the more it will hurt."

"The more I fight, the harder it is for you to get this over with quickly," she ground out, digging her heels in as he pulled. If he had to fight her, so much the better; she was not going to her death like a meek little lamb. She threw her bodyweight backwards and scissored her legs toward his.

He fell with little sound, but when he rolled in an attempt to pin her, a long and sharp blade was withdrawn from his robes again and held up against her neck in silent warning. "Enough of this foolishness, you will tire long before I do. Save your last few breaths, savor them, do not waste them."

She froze, her chin lifting high to keep that blade from slicing her throat open as she stared furiously up at him. "Gods help me, if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."

"Do you think so?" He asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

"I know it," she hissed back at him, furious, determined. Eri was persistent, she always had been. And now she was close to her death, and she had no intention of giving away even an inch if she could help it.

"I could cut your throat now." He reminded her, pressing the cold blade against her skin. "It would make things easier. I'm giving you a chance to die with your dignity."

"Go on, then," was her snarling reply. Fast, that's how she wanted it; not slow and torturous, as he had planned. "Kill me, or aren't you man enough to do it? I'm unarmed, aren't I?"

The blade lifted and was twisted in his hands, point angling down toward her. "This is for a good cause."

"Good, bad, who cares?" Eri's voice was rising in her furious determination to be killed right then, faster than he wanted, without the satisfaction for him. "It's a cause, and I'm part of it, and you want me dead, right? So kill me already!"

The blade was stabbed down; not at her throat but at her shoulder instead with the intent to slightly cripple her so she would be more cooperative.

To her credit, she didn't cry out, though her face paled at the sudden pain of the blade stabbing into her shoulder, scraping along bone. She glared up at him. "That the best you can do?" she demanded. "Face it, you can't kill me, not when I want you to."

He laughed quietly and stood, reaching to grab her wounded shoulder and tugged her up to stand. "You will die in the manner I choose."

Dragged to her feet with that hand digging into her bleeding shoulder, Eri hissed through her teeth, flinging her forearm up to bat his hand away. "You're nothing but a coward, hiding behind a mask and children and a cause that means nothing."

The Masked Man smiled sweetly at her as he reached to reaffirm his grip despite her batting hand, dragging her to the hallway now.

Stumbling as pain lanced through her arm, Eri staggered after him, her teeth set tightly together to keep any more sounds of pain from leaving her lips. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of pain, or fear. Dammit, Patrick, get your ass here already!

As they walked through the hall he remained silent. Eventually they turned into a room covered and filled with plastic all along the walls, floor, and every surface. A table lay in the center of it, leather bindings open and waiting. "Lay down, Detective." He said while walking her toward the table.

"What, you want me to make this easier on you? No way!" Twisting, she made to yank herself away from him, dipping her injured shoulder in an attempt to loosen his grip and escape back toward the door.

His fingers slipped from her shoulder as she made for an escape--just in time to hear a loud gunshot that blew out the lock of the front door further down the hall. Patrick and a pair of Watchmen came through, weapons at the ready.

Nothing had ever sounded more welcome to Eri than that gunshot. Finally. Instead of making a run for it, she twisted and launched herself at the Masked Man, grappling to get the knife off him before he could make his own escape or finish her off.

He brought the weapon out in front of him as a defense as she lunged into him. The sound of the two bodies smacking and hitting the floor drew Patrick's and the others' attentions, all of who quickly hurried down the hall toward the source.

The blade scored along Eri's ribs as she slammed into the fragile looking man, knocking him down. Her fingers curled around his, still trying to pry the knife free, though her arm throbbed and her fingers were slick with her own blood. "Patrick, get in here now!"

Patrick and the two other detectives all ran into the room, quickly fanning out to circle Eri and the Masked Man with their weapons drawn and trained on them both. "Don't move!" Patrick shouted, the Masked Man being no fool quickly obliged. "Eri, get back."

Pushing herself up to straddle the captor-turned-captive, Eri knocked the knife out of his hand before glancing briefly to Patrick. "It's about damn time," she complained, pushing herself up and backing off, one hand now pressed against her bleeding shoulder.

"There's an ambulance outside, go get yourself fixed up." Patrick said while walking forward and lowering his gun to holster it, retrieving his handcuffs instead.

"Not until I know he's secure," she shook her head, glancing at the curious looks she was getting from the other two Watchmen. She must've been a sight - still dressed as a grubby urchin, covered in dirt and now blood as well.

The Masked Man didn't move as Patrick approached, simply watched with resigned acceptance. As Patrick dropped to cuff the man, he jerked suddenly, his forehead flying to connect heavily with the Detectives with a resounding crack that sent them both out on their backs again.

Groaning, Patrick rubbed his forehead and quickly sat up, the two Watchmen moving closer to the pair. "Don't move!" One shouted again, with the Masked Man replying with uplifted hands. Patrick stood and cuffed him finally, reaching to jerk him up roughly to his feet. "Escort him to the car." He said, nodding to the Watchmen who moved to take the murderer off his hands.

Eri was too tired to react, leaning heavily against the wall as she watched the interaction. The tension of the last day or more had caught up to her, big-time, and she was silent as she watched the murderer dragged away. Her eyes turned to Patrick. "You okay there?"

He waved her off dismissively. "Fine, fine. You?" Patrick asked as he moved toward the door. "And come on, even if you feel fine you look like shit."

"Well, I feel like shit, so that works out," Eri laughed, relieved enough to be out of harm's way that she made no attempt to pretend that she was fine. She pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him. "Good bust."

"Yeah? I think it cracked my head a little bit." He replied, glancing over at her. "Seriously, hurry to the ambulance."

She snorted with laughter at his comment, not bothering to hurry. "I'm not about to bleed to death, Pat, I think I'll be fine," she assured him, grinning.

"Yeah, but you're obviously delirious." He argued lightly, moving to the opened door of the house.

"What makes you say that?" she demanded with a smile. "Can't a girl be pleased to see her partner when he saves her life?"

"...Now you're just not making sense."

"Just tell me he's not getting off on a technicality," she said firmly.

"It's highly unlikely that he'll be alive much longer." He replied while slipping out the door. Outside the large house was an ambulance and a few squad cars, one with the Masked Man sitting in the back locked securely into place.

She followed him, nodding wearily, and was more than happy to allow herself to be ushered into the ambulance and onto a stretcher. "Okay, I'll just pass out here for a while, but you did good," she sighed with a smile. "And Patrick? Thanks for getting me outta there."

He tossed off a two-fingered salute and then closed the door after she was loaded on, turning to hop into the car with the Masked Man so he could ensure that they reached the Watch House safely and without hindrance.