The Graf's West End laboratory hadn't even been turned into an empty lot yet, a pile of rubble, some of the more useful materials salvaged, and many odd pieces grabbed by the Crimson Flash's steadily growing fanbase. Bricks, broken slabs of concrete, wiring and glass stacked into peaks that were once much higher, pulled down over the course of half a year by gravity and decay.

No one had cleared it out because outsiders saw no use for such a shabby location, and the locals still feared it... afraid of the many strange disappearances that seemed tied to that building, the odd noises, the screams, and the lingering feeling of something tugging at your skin. Drunks and the few who actually managed to leave the local opium den on occasion swore they saw terrible things, monsters configured not according to most worlds' saner laws, and heard whispers and violin music. Psychics familiar with the neighborhood warned people away from that place based on feeling alone, even without any knowledge of what happened there.

The ruins felt less like the tomb of an evil man... much closer to the bedchamber of a sleeping vampire. Because Varick von Sternmont was not dead, and the evil he brought to that building lay dormant, waiting to be awoken.