HAVENS

"GET YOUR LUNCH AND SIT DOWN!" A guard reminds a particular rowdy inmate at the Fowler Penitentiary in Tallahassee Florida. In line are creatures of different vices and no matter where they have been or where they came from, they were here together.

A young looking, frail man sat at a table with no lunch for the third time this week.

"You have to eat, man." Another inmate whispered to him, seemingly concerned for this young man's health. "Your eyes are baggy, I'd bet your ribs are showing."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" The inmate barks back.

"The fuck you say, man?" The concerned inmate abandons sympathy in lieu of a new found anger. "You so hungry you must not be thinking right, man."

"You heard me, 'MAN" The inmate mocks him, even going as far as making a smug face to make matters worse.

"You know what? You livin' in a glass house!" The other inmate stands up and smacks the skinny prisoner on his head. It prompts the young man to stand up, revealing his lankiness moreso, and spits in the man's face.

"Now, you're fucking dead!" The man says, wiping the saliva off his forehead.

"KNOCK IT OFF!" A guard nearby startles the men before approaching the spitting inmate and grabs him by his thin arm. "That's it, Havens."

"What the fuck!" the lanky inmate is outraged, trying to fight the guard but he has little to no strength from his food strike.

"You've been warned." The guard informs him, pulling him from the table and out into the prison hall. "You know where you're going for the rest of the day?"

"The hole." The lanky man now mocks the guard. The guard lets him go, staring at him for a moment after his snarky comment before jabbing him in the chest. The inmate gasps as the guard reapplies his grip to his underarm and pulls him down the hall towards solitary confinement.

Secretly, this is what this man wanted. He wasn't on a food strike, really. He had no appetite and his anxiety was through the roof because this is no way for an affluent male to be treated. He had never felt true desperation before being locked up here with these "other animals." and he wasn't an idiot. He had been pushing guard's buttons for days hoping that just maybe one would throw him into solitary so he wouldn't have to worry about being someone else's prison food, and his plan had worked.

As the inmate fell to the cold, damp floor of "the hole", he tried his hardest not to laugh out loud because, in his mind, he had outsmarted them all.

He waited for a moment and then he couldn't contain his joy any longer. He lets out a lucid chuckle in the midst of near pure darkness, happy to be one step ahead of everyone else when suddenly...

"Don't scream." A voice breaks his celebration from behind.

"What the..." The startled skinny inmate twists and backs himself against the wall. "This is supposed to be solitary!"

"Yes." A deep, well pronounced voice calmly responds.

"So, why are you here!" The trembling, nervous inmate tries to back himself through the stone wall, but he's as far as he can escape.

The man doesn't answer. He steps forward into the little light provided by the florescent bulb emitting from the square window on the locked metal door. The young inmate's eyes squeeze to make out the features but only a towering shadow gravitates towards him.

"Do you know who I am?" The shadow asks, seeming to float as a gliding spirit through the darkness.

"Should I?" The inmate's voice cracks as the shadow man stops before him, looking down from above as the inmate's heart begins to beat out of his chest.

"No." The dark figure responds, "But I know you."

"Is this because of what I did... In Vegas?" The inmate becomes his inner child, beginning to weep.

"No." The figure once again responds, "Killing an infant behind the wheel... drunk. Although, your sins have finally found the light. I am here on behalf of the dark."

"What!? Look, who the fuck are you! What is this!" The inmate bursts out, frustrated from how powerless he has constantly felt since his world has come crashing down after a life of privilege and entitlement.

"Is this because of Danny Starr?" The inmate whimpers, "Did he send you? Is this some kind of... payback for failing his stupid wrestling event? It's JUST WRESTLING!"

"Corwin." The tall dark shadow places his gloved right hand on his shoulder. "Do you know why we have chosen professional wrestling organizations to infiltrate, rather than say, any other institution?"

"What?" The inmate named Corwin is confused.

"It's because of the violence." The man says, "They are athletes that could have excelled in any physically demanding sport of aggressive competition like football or even mat wrestling but they gravitated towards Professional Wrestling... and do you know why?"

"Wh-Why?" Corwin feels his shoulder inside the strong, overbearing grip of this dark man's right hand.

"The violent nature that they've chosen to craft." The man answers, "A free pass to inflict violent aggression on another human being. The lust of the scandedly clad women baring their flesh to quench the thirst of those that desire, the danger... the drama... the animal inside of each and every one of us is free to flourish with no consequences."

Corwin buckles under the man's tight squeezing right hand as his back is pinned to the wall, forced to hear this stranger's thoughts.

"A perfect breeding ground for those who are ready to pledge themselves." The shadow says.

Corwin's pain takes a backseat to his clarity. His eyes widen as the man's right hand and it's excruciating presence fades at the sight of his lifted left hand. A familiar gesture... and suddenly, Corwin Havens realizes that this wasn't Danny Starr's vengeance... or his sins catching up with him.

"Please, God." Corwin tries to repent but is given little time before the dark figure's left hand squeezes his throat enough to snap it in a single flex. As Corwin's head hangs lifeless over the man's left hand glove, his body's weight is free to fall.

The man steps back from Corwin Haven's lifeless corpse and he fades back into the abyss that he had crept from.

KEEPER

*Today, former professional wrestler and convicted felon Corwin Havens committed suicide while in solitary confinement at the Fowler Pentitentery in Florida. Prison officials discovered Corwin Havens with a self-inflicted neck wound that autopsies suggest had been caused by self-strangulation and a broken neck after losing consciousness. Havens was serving a double life sentence for vehicular homicide of an infant while drunk driving in-*

The audio from the television becomes inaudible as a group of inmates become louder than usual during a game of Spades.

Johnathon Keeper scoffs at the idea of his fellow High Society colleague's 'suicide'. It's no surprise it was packaged as a suicide. He figured he would begin hearing of his fellow members dropping off of the map considering how messy things had ended, but Johnathon had hoped he would be the first.

The things Johnathon had done had been forced into the light and his father's reputation had been ruined by his own son. The friends Johnathon had were important people that couldn't afford his deposition. He knew it was just a matter of time whether it be those he sinned with or those who needed cleaning up. It was inevitable.

Johnathon Keeper wasn't afraid to be stuck in this New York State Prison. He had convinced himself that it was what he had coming to him. He wasn't happy how it happened- so, spectacularly, but in the end, karma had come back to bite him and he accepted that it always would have.

"Keeper!" A guard shouts out, "Visitor."

Johnathon stands. His curiosity is vacant and through life he now wanders aimlessly, uncaring of his own ambitions for they are vanquished. Keeper simply follows the guard to the visiting room where he is guided to sit in front of a glass divider.

When he sits down and looks up, he sees the unfamiliar man on the other side. A man with no hair on his head, a large collared coat over over his true shape. The man is expressionless, lacking the warmth of typical human emotion. He picks up the phone and Johnanthon does the same.

"I'm ready." Johnathon says, "It's better than spending the rest of my life here."

The man doesn't respond. Just keeps staring into Johnathon's eyes.

"Corwin committed suicide, they said." Johnathon says, "But that wasn't true, was it?"

The man still only listens intently. John laughs to himself.

"The things I've done... the things that I can't deny." Johnathon begins, "They're out there. My name, my reputation- it's already dead. But you know what, I will say one thing."

The man's eyebrows lift in curiosity.

"Had I known that my story ended in this place..." Johnathon shakes his head, "I would have taken three times as many private plane trips to that island, and had ten times as many "massages" by those young women. What's the point in hiding who I am? They were just girls with no families... and we lived by a different set of rules than the rest of them. Why shouldn't we enjoy those perks?"

"THREE MINUTES LEFT!" A guard interrupts from behind Keeper.

Keeper turns back from the guard to the man before him, and the man is grinning.

"I have been doing this for a long time." The man begins, "And no matter how unconnected my targets are, they all atone for their sins as If I'm the priest in a confession chamber. A common thread that you all seem to share. And, all the same, you'll be pleased to know I am not here to judge you. For, I am not an agent of the light but here on behalf of the dark."

Johnathon chuckles to himself.

"I told you I was ready." Johnathon laughs, "If I could help you on this side of the glass, I would."

The man smiles before hanging up the phone. Johnathon's face curls into confusion as the man simply stares into his eyes once again. Johnathon mouths "What?" and the man opens his mouth, allowing his tongue to roll out like a salivating dog.

The man lifts his gloved left hand and takes his own tongue between his two fingers and thumb, compressing them as if squeezing a chew toy. Instead of a squeak, Johnathon only hears a frequency so piercing to his ears that he can't bare it. His hands rise to the side of his head and tries to block sound from his ears but finds the sound is already occupying his ear drums.

The man stands up and turns from the glass and heads casually towards the exit of the visitor's side of the room. Johnathon remains paralyzed in his seat, holding his skull before blood begins to leak out of his bulging eyes and snarling nose. Before long, Johnathon Keeper's hands fall to his sides, and a bloody puddle forms on the table where his head has fallen. The only guard in the room rushes to him, realizing he is dead, and looks up to the man standing at the exit who has now turned to face him again.

Together, in unison, they each raise an open left hand that could be mistaken as a shy wave, but they know what it truly means. It's the sign of their allegiance to an order that the world had thought was destroyed but wasn't.

GOLD

Television is on, but Tony Gold has already passed out on his couch watching it. Although he was considered one of the lucky ones that avoided prison sentences, he was, in fact an unlucky victim of a very embarrassing public controversy. His reputation had been slaughtered by the evidence that he was involved in many encounters with young men, despite his womanizing lifestyle.

He snores, belly out from the weight he has gained from the depression after High Society had disintegrated. A bright commercial ends and there's a moment of darkness before the next one. When it returns, a previously vacant place behind Tony Gold's couch is now occupied by the dark, tall man that had already visited two other HS members in the recent weeks.

Tony seems to stir awake from a nightmare, sitting up fast while breathing heavy. He tries to catch his breath as the man stands quiet, observing his prey.

"Mr. Gold." The man says calmly, startling Tony.

"What the fuck!" Tony jumps up too fast and turns around in fear.

"You..." Tony's eyes widen so large that they could roll out of his head.

"Fuck." Tony holds his chest, turning around and dropping to his place on the couch. He reaches to his side and grabs a bottle, bringing up to his mouth and takes a long gulp before bringing it back down to his lap.

"Jesus Christ, man." Tony's head falls in disappointment, "I thought when Starr ordered the hit they would've known to shoot this guy first."

"They tried." The tall man says and Tony starts laughing.

"Of course they did." Tony shakes his head, "They still shoulda known to kill you a second and third time just to make sure."

The man moves around the couch and stands at Tony's side. Tony remains seated, drunk, with a bottle of cognac in his lap.

"So, they didn't finish it..." Tony looks up at the man who killed Corwin Havens and Johnathon Keeper. "And now, the last of us are either trapped in cages or too fucked up to give a damn anyway. Funny how shit works, huh?" Tony chuckles a bit before losing it to a coughing fit.

"Like roaches." Tony burps, lifting his bottle to take another swig, "Wipe out a million and there's always another one hiding under the cabinet."

"Resilient. Yes." The man answers, walking further around Tony before sitting down next to him. Tony looks over with suspicious eyes as a gloved left hand reaches towards him...

Tony analyzes the left hand and the man doesn't flinch, continuing to hold out an open palm until Tony gives in and hands him the bottle. The man takes a gulp from it and hands it back to Tony Gold.

"But it wasn't anything we did differently." The man says, "It was destined to be this way. The Legacy always believed that it's interpretation was the correct one- but in the end, you had abandoned your godliness... turning to your vices. You became complacent and allowed a tiger into your village and that tiger decimated millennia of survival in a single decade."

"Is Starr the tiger in this whack ass metaphor?" Tony asks.

The man sighs.

"It would always return to this continuity, Mr. Gold." The man says, "Starr was an unexpected obstacle but now our path is corrected. Our path is defined."

The man stands up again, facing Tony.

"Ain't that some shit." Tony laughs, "I was humiliated when the world found out my dark secret, but it wasn't that dark to me. Damnit, I didn't do anything wrong! I lived with my heart and didn't end up in prison like most of the others... and you still come for me too? Why?"

There's an awkward silence after Tony's question as he looks up at the man with tears filling his childlike gaze.

"I don't necessarily see the point in being here for you, Mr. Gold." The man says, "In fact, I always had hoped you'd find your way to our side of this war."

Tony's eyebrows weaken, wondering if there's still a chance to survive this.

"But.." The man continues, "She insists."

"C'mon man!" Tony begs.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gold." The man says beginning to move towards him.

"You don't have to do this!" Tony shouts, "I don't fuck with those guys anymore, I've seen the light!"

"I'm here on behalf of the dark."

A shadow of the tall man bringing down a right fist downward into Tony's seated position plays violently on the wall. A single blow to Tony's cranium ends his plea to the strange visitor. A horrifying crack sound accompanies the devastating punch and in a mere second Tony Gold was no more.

The tall man exits Tony Gold's apartment and leaves him to be found whenever he is meant to be.

FRANCIS FURY

Mary Jane Francis Fury enjoys a glass of red wine as she relaxes in her bathrobe watching Making a Murderer on Netflix. A knock on her door doesn't phase her but inconveniences her as she reaches for the remote to hit pause.

"Yes?" Mj's eyes flutter as she politely speaks back towards the door from her couch.

The door opens and a police officer peeks in.

"Miss, I heard your second episode start... wait until you see how crazy this gets!" The man's eyes light up.

"I'm looking forward to it, thank you, Greg." Mj smiles.

"Can I get you another glass?" Greg asks, opening the door further, "I can get us, er I mean you some pizza if you'd like. On me."

"Don't worry about it, Greg. I'll be heading to bed soon but thank you so much. You've been so great."

"Anything for you, Mj." Greg says with a desperate smile.

"Okay, Spiderman. Calm down." Mj warns, "This IS witness protection, after all."

"I know, it's just..." Greg says, "I just want you to be comfor-" He becomes distracted by a strange noise.

"What is it?" Mj asks.

"Oh.. it's..." Greg turns back to her, smiling, "It's nothing. You are completely safe here, Mrs. Fury."

"Well, I'd hope so." Mj says, "It's a safe house, so..."

"Right." He laughs before turning back again, deadly serious, "You know what, maybe just lock the door and stay here real quick. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Seriously?" Mj says but Greg is already going to check.

Mj has heard of the others and their unfortunate ends so she doesn't think twice about it. She knocks twice on the wall and rushes over to the door to lock it as Greg said. As she twists the lock she hears Greg sounding like an actual cop for once followed by rapid gunfire. Mj jumps, startled, before rushing behind the couch and ducking down as she fears the worst.

It goes quiet.

"What the fuck..." Mj whispers to herself.

Silence.

"Greg?.." Mj peeks above the couch just as the locked door bursts open from the other side. Wood and glass from fallen picture frames explode against the floor as they drop.

"Oh fuck." MJ freezes like a deer as the dark man stands in the doorway.

"Mrs. Fury." The man greets her.

"I knew it was you." MJ hasn't blinked.

"Your husband." He goes on, "Where is he?" as the sound of broken glass crackles under each of his heavy feet walking towards her.

"You killed the others..." Mj backs away, slowly, ignoring his question."

"Yes." He responds, still stalking her, "Where's Mr. Fury?"

Mj circles backwards around a couch to avoid the approaching man but he persists as she continues to move away.

"Not here." Mj says, "They separated us... shouldn't you know that already?"

The dark man reaches down and picks up the couch that divides them and flips it to his side away from them. She runs away and out of the entrance he came from. He walks at his cautious pace, following her as she trips over the police officer's corpse that he had left in the hallway. She looks back and sees that he is there, still moving towards her. She crawls with bare forearms over the broken wood and bullet casings from the failed attempt at shooting the intruder.

"You can't escape fate, Mrs. Fury." The man reminds her as she climbs up to her feet to continue moving from him.

"I've heard of you." Mj says as she panics, "I had nothing to do with that idiot, Starr."

She turns a corner, blood now dripping from both of her forearms, and peers back but only hearing his heavy foot steps still coming.

"I think you're making a big mistake here!" Mj warns, opening a door to the safe house's bedroom and shutting it behind her. "Don't make a big mistake!!" she shouts so he can hear her through the door but the sound of his foot steps has stopped. It's radio silence.

Mj feels her heart pounding, she feels as if she's in a horror movie, listening for any sound but without warning the door is kicked wide open and there he stood in the door way.

"Fate has arrived for you, Mrs. Fury." The man says before moving through the door, but suddenly, he is stopped when a man taller than he wraps his giant arms around his neck tighter than a python.

"I told you!" Mj propels forward with her finger in the air.

"I know your reputation..." Steven Fury growls, his arms struggling to maintain an unforgiving choke around The Baphomet's neck, "But your reign of terror on the High Society ends here..."

Baphomet's eyes begin to bulge and his gaze falls upon a joyous Mj who misreads his look as fear- realizing in that moment it was adrenaline.

"C'mon, babe..." Mj's hopeful words don't match her dreadful tone.

"My... Rep..u..tation... is... anti....fra...GILE!" Baphomet reaches up and pokes his thumbs into Steven's eyesockets at each corner of his eyes. Steven let's out a terrible and anguishing wail as his arms release The Baphomet and brings each hand up to favor his injured eyes.

"No..." Mj mutters as tears begin to build up.

Baphomet looks back to her. His eye's red with fury of his own and grabs her throat with both hands and lifts her up. He feels Steven swinging blindly for him, just brushing his back enough to distract him from finishing Mj then and there. As Steven grabs Baphomet's shoulders, He throws Mj down against the carpeted floor so hard on her side that her wrist breaks on impact. She lets out a painful gasp followed by a hysterical sob.

"You mother fucker!" Steven squeezes Baphomet's shoulders hard as he can, forcing Baphomet to weaken to his knees as Mr. Fury's anger builds up at the sounds of his sobbing wife, unable to even see what has happened to her.

Afraid of losing Baphomet's location, he stays on him, picking him up by the arms and running him forward facefirst into anything in the room he can. As Baphomet's front is plowed into lamps and shelves he is finally stopped flat against a window that shatters upon contact.

Fury doesn't let go, pulling Baphomet off of the broken glass, but unable to tell if he has been subdued. As he prepares to launch him forward again, he calls out for his wife. "Mary Jane!, Mary Jane!" but all he can hear is her sobbing, unable to make out words.

In that brief moment, a shard of glass collected by the Baphomet is stabbed backward into Steven's lower stomach giving him the opportunity to pull himself away from Steven. Steven angrily shouts as he feels for the wound, pulling out the glass from his stomach as he feels it throbbing. He realizes he has lost his victim's location but he hasn't gotten far. The Baphomet, feeling the affects of being man handled crawls away from Steven's reach as if playing a morbid version of blind man's bluff in this room of chaos.

"You can't hide..." Steven growls, "Where is he Mj?"

"He's..." Mj tries to whimper out, "He's..."

"WHERE IS HE!!" Steven is frustrated.

"Here." The voice surprises Steven as he has somehow gotten behind him. When Steven turns with a wide reach Baphomet ducks and plunges the lamp's broken neck through Steven's chest. As Steven's body is forced down he grabs The Baphomet's throat trying to squeeze it and snuff him out but he's fading.

"No..." Mj cries.

The Baphomet feels his own head becoming light from the strangulation but feels Steven's grip going weaker and weaker. Finally, Baphomet grabs Steven's shoulders and falls on his own back forcing the lamp through Mr. Fury's chest and through his back. He hears his final breath release and his strangle falls limp.

"NO!!!!" Mj lets out an agonizing wail as Baphomet rolls Steven off of him, lamp now part of his corpse like a kickstand. He falls with a heavy thud as Baphomet recovers to his feet, twisting his own neck to shake off the choke.

"Not very nice, Mrs. Fury." Baphomet forms a subtle smile.

"Please... don't..." Mary Jane pleads.

"I am here on behalf of the dark, Mrs. Fury." The Baphomet informs her, "And now you too will see how overrated the light has been. Glory be The Left Hand."

"Bunch of fuckin'..."Mj's final words are snuffed out by a devastating black boot crushing her skull right there on the floor. The Baphomet leaves behind a scene of grotesque horror in a violent spectacle of the Fury family's last stand.

As The Baphomet leaves the bedroom he shuts the door for someone to find them. He reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves his cellular device to call someone that isn't stored on his contacts.

"Yes... they are." He says...

"The rest will be utilized as you please..." he says...

"Yes..." he says.

"I will get it." He confirms.

"Very well." He hangs up.

The Baphomet continues down the hall and steps over the police officer in the hallway to exit the safehouse.

Natural Selection

Jared Sengir had heard news of the others. He wasn't the least bit surprised and quite frankly, he hadn't felt alive since Starr had robbed him of his life long talent. He had already began withering away emotionally even before all of the chaos at One Night Stand, and as he sits without Scarlett to quell his loneliness, he was once again alone.

He often reflected on where things began to go wrong. He had thought his entire life had been filled with such darkness with the Left Hand but to finally find some light in his life with Scarlett and Tyler. That was his true solace. Although, he was created and groomed by the lowest life forms imaginable he had somehow escaped that hell and lived happy for sometime with an angel in the closest thing he could picture was like heaven.

EHHHHHHHHHHHH. "Sengir!"

But now. On behalf of the dark...

Jared stood up in his cell. He imagined The Baphomet would be immense but he had long expected this. He knew the others had met their fate and only once had he met this dark man who has somehow managed to get inside of solitary confinements and safe houses to do the devil's work. He knew that this man was notorious and nefarious but extremely talented... but it was no accident he had such ease of access to these specific people; it only stood as a testament to just how much Danny Starr had failed to accomplish what the Legacy couldn't accomplish in centuries.

Footsteps began approaching Jared's cell. They weren't heavy foot steps as he had expected but the footsteps of prison guards approaching. When they come to his cell, without a single word, the one pulls out a key and unlocks it manually. The other peering passed Jared as if he was invisible. He looks nervous.

"Donahue..." his voice nearly cracks, "Get out here."

The prisoner who shared a cell with Jared had recently reawakened from a cat nap and was a bit oblivious to the commotion.

"I said DONAHUE!" The guard repeats, louder, more stern.

"I'm comin'!" He utters with a thick Boston accent.

"Now!" The guard is urgent.

"What's going on fellas?" Sengir asks, but no answer. The guards only look to his eyes and without verbal communication, the fear says it all: Even they were compromised. It was happening all over again.

"Jesus Christ." Jared lets out under his breath, sitting back down to the bed. The guards leave the cell open wide as they escort Donahue away from sight. After a moment passes and Jared looks over at the open cell, he doesn't even bother to head for it. He already knows what lurks beyond that sharp turn away from this rancid cell.

A heavy foot step finally approaches. Jared's eyes close as the footsteps draw near and finally into his cell. Jared looks up and sees who he had long expected.

"The Baphomet." Jared says, but no greeting returns.

Instead, The tall dark natured man walks closer to him, and Jared feels his heart begin beating a thousand miles a minute.

"I know why you're here." Jared says.

"Good." The Baphomet finally speaks, and reaches into the inside of his coat. Jared can't help but peek from his peripherals in anticipation of what twisted means of execution was in store for him.

"A needle..." Jared is surprised, "Lethal injection seems a bit... merciful for someone like you."

"This..." The Baphomet says, grabbing Jared's exposed arm and pulling it closer to him, "Is not for you. It's for us."

Jared is confused as he feels the point of the needle enter his vein. A quick pierce and it's clear that blood is being drawn from him.

"What is this..." Jared asks, "What are you doing?"

"Do you remember me, Jared?" The Baphomet interrupts, "I remember when you were no taller than my knee cap. So innocent. You were so special to Dermot."

"I try to forget those days..." Jared winces as a full syringe of blood is captured and retrieved from his arm. The Baphomet released the cylinder and screws a cap on it for safe keeping and places both into the inside of his coat where they originated from.

"We thought you would be the one to fulfill the Left Hand's destiny." Baphomet continues, "What, with your special abilities. Abilities that were given to you as a gift and then... you betrayed us, didn't you?"

Jared looks down. "What are you going to do with my blood?"

"And why did you betray us?" The Baphomet ignores his question, "For love."

"Yes..." Jared admits, "For Love. You say it like THAT'S the evil thing... when it was Dermot. It was you and the Left Hand. I wouldn't take it back if I could!"

"What a waste you were but, not all was wasted." Baphomet says, "Afterall, gifts can be taken back but unlike the others, I hold a special place in my heart for you."

"What does that mean?" Jared asks.

"I will let you go on living. And you will go on to live on and on watching the only thing you care for diminish from existence..." Baphomet says, "My personal gift to you."

Baphomet expects Jared to beg but instead, he begins to laugh. This catches Baphomet off guard, unsure of it's reasoning; perhaps insanity. He simply turns from him to leave the cell but Jared's laughter becomes greater, prompting Baphomet to turn to him in curiosity.

"You lose, you son of a bitch!" Jared laughs again.

"Excuse me?" The Baphomet asks.

"That blood... that gift you are taking back..." Jared attempts to get the words out in between his hysterics, "It's useless!"

"Useless? How?" Baphomet staggers back to him, grabbing his gray collar of a shirt the prison had provided him. "SPEAK!" and his intimidation falls short as Jared continues to laugh.

"Danny... Starr...." Jared is out of breath, "He made it... go away..."

"Made.. WHAT... go away?" The Baphomet is becoming impatient.

"My...powers..." Jared chokes, "That blood... is... use..less..."

The Baphomet simply stares at him, unsure what to make of this new information.

"Useless." Baphomet repeats.

"Yes...." Jared squeezes out from his throat.

"Then your suffering will not appease me." Baphomet growls, "You see, I was promised the Legacy to do with as I please and nothing would please me more than to torment you for eternity as you rot away with the knowledge I was torturing your wife but without this gift to return... I cannot give you the gift I wanted. This... is disappointing."

The Baphomet drops Jared and he falls to the hard floor.

"You have always been useless." Baphomet reaches up and with a frustrated haste rolls out his tongue to quickly press the tip. Jared's head begins to bleed from it's orifices as Baphomet storms out of the cell and passed the guards. His left hand lifts as he continues passed them, and theirs go up to him before quickly putting them down and rushing back to Jared who has now departed, lying facedown in a puddle of his own blood.

SCARLETT RAYNE

Scarlett Rayne Sengir had fallen numb. After everything that transpired, although over the course of a decade, seemed as if things happened faster than she could account her. Now, the closest people to her over almost a lifetime had, one by one, been targeted and assassinated.

What hurt the worst though, was her husband Jared, had been called a suicide when she knew he would never. The reports said he had tried to hang himself but fell from the makeshift bed-sheet to the concrete face first. It was too convenient and Scarlett and He had made a packed that as long as their son was alive, they would never end things that way.

She figured, it would just a be a matter of time before Danny Starr's hitters would come for her too.

"Miss. Rayne." A deep familiar voice speaks to her beyond the bar cells. When she looks up, she is, on first glance, confused- but as the prison guard quickly unlocked her cell door and allows it to slide open, her clarity sharpens.

"You! What are you doing here?! What do you want?!" Scarlett is startled by his appearance.

The guard all but makes himself scarce as the dark presence of a man enters.

"You know why I'm here." Baphomet says, "You've surely been made aware of the others."

"So this is it then? This is my time? Unless you have something else on your agenda for me..." Suggests Scarlett.

"Do you remember when you first joined 'The Legacy'?" The Baphomet disregards her questions, savoring this reunion.

"Yes, when I first reunited with my father and met my brother. That seems almost like a lifetime ago now..." She answers.

"I find that time doesn't really exist when I think back to when Dermot first told me of your brother's... talents." Baphomet reminisces, "And how easy it would have been to just get what we wanted from you, only, you weren't as gifted. A shame."

"Yes, the Left Hand has always wanted a piece of the Rayne family bloodline, too bad the Left Hand has to resort to kidnapping and abduction and other means to get what the Legacy has." Scarlett scoffs.

Baphomet nearly laughs at the thought. "Yes, the ever so righteous hypocrisy of your sect and it's delusional point of view. Look at what has happened to your order. Allowing an outsider to infiltrate and all but obliterate your order in the matter of 14 years. Now, you are here under the thumb of man's judgment... and I'm free to leave, but this is how the Legacy ends. It was always inevitable, wasn't it Mrs. Sengir?"

"The Legacy has endured through the ages, and through past deception. I'd expect no different this time." Scarlett says, "As you know, our order is not just the San Francisco House, there will be another to take up the mantle."

"And they too will fall." Baphomet promises sternly, before returning to a more lighthearted manner, "Mrs. Sengir, I had originally came here to avenge Dermot and freeing your soul from this... struggle we have shared but, instead, I will free you from this cage..."

"Why would you set free a member of your sworn enemy? What, does the Left Hand have another secret plot to abduct me to get to my son?" Scarlett ponders, "Surely, there has got to be some sort of catch."

"There's always a catch, Scarlett." Baphomet says, "But I don't need you to understand my methods... as you know, the truth always reaches the light."

Baphomet reaches down and puts his left hand around the back of her head and for a moment, considers doing to her as he had done to the others, but instead plays with a strand of her brown hair.

"But I'm here on behalf of the dark." Baphomet reminds her, "And the dark may seem gone when the light is shining... but it's still there; it'll always be there... waiting for the light to dim."

Baphomet turns from her and makes his exit. As the sound of his foot steps diminish she watches the open, unguarded door to her cell remain that way. After a few moments of building up her fortitude, she stands up and simply walks out, free to go.

KAYROS

Brandon Kayros feared the worst. 4 suicide attempts and he was now forced to remain in a hospital room under close scrutiny by the institution's staff. He had known that the others had been eradicated one by one and since hearing of Scarlett's escape, he wondered who could have given the order. The Left Hand was destroyed, Alicia Sinn wouldn't care to free Scarlett, Danny Starr would have had her killed without a second thought- why kill the others, but leave Scarlett not only alive but free her. Brandon wondered if Derek Rayne had somehow still been alive- it was the only thing that made sense but he knows that's impossible.

As Brandon awaits his certain fate, he still manages to be surprised when The Baphomet is allowed to enter his hospital room.

"Brandon." The Baphomet greets him, but Kayros seems less intimidated and more taken aback.

"What are you doing here?" Brandon asks.

"You know why I'm here..." Baphoment responds.

"No..." Brandon says, "No, wait... no, this isn't right..."

Baphomet stands quiet, a bit taken back himself at Kayros' response.

"Who are you..." Brandon asks.

"You know who I am, Brandon." Baphomet says.

"Baphomet." Kayros replies.

"Yes." Baphomet confirms.

"No, you're not." Kayros says, shaking his head.

Baphomet doesn't know how to respond, instead, lowering his eyebrows as he measures up Brandon before him.

"You're not this world's Baphomet... although..." Brandon studies him with great curiosity, "You appear to be the very same... a clone? No... no, they wouldn't have made another of you."

Baphomet says nothing at first.

"How do-" Baphomet begins to ask but Kayros interrupts him.

"Because The Baphomet from this world has been dead for 20 years." Kayros says.

Baphomet contemplates, and for the first time, a sense of fear becomes clear across his emotionless face.

"So, what..." Kayros says, "Did you cast a realm-seeker?"

Baphomet smiles.

"No." Baphomet says, "I was excommunicated."

"For?" Kayros is confused.

"Ambition..." Baphomet answers, sitting down on the bed across from Kayros.

"Ambition." Kayros repeats back.

"I've always been... talented in points of weakness; loop holes, if you will." Baphomet explains, "I saw the opportunity to thwart control from Redemption's grasp and lead the Left Hand towards certain victory- I was found out while attempting to open the sepulchers and was punished, sent away from my realm and into this one."

"Hmm..." Kayros says, "Sounds like you're the same across the board."

"How is that?" Baphomet asks.

"The Baphomet of this world tried the same thing..." Kayros says, "But in this realm, they didn't bother to excommunicate him- they killed him secretly to prevent his acolytes from rising up in resistance."

Baphomet stands up, turning from Kayros.

"And as you can see..." Baphomet says, "What inevitably happens to the Left Hand under Redemption and Dermot Winterdawn and Rachel Winston."

"Yeah, Danny Starr happened." Kayros redirects blame.

"Mr. Starr will soon answer for his ignorance." Baphomet promises, "but right now, I need to know where your loyalty stands."

Kayros looks up at Baphomet.

"How long have you been in this realm?" Kayros asks, suspiciously.

"Long enough to know what you believe only few still know." Baphomet says with a grin, "But, as far as I can tell... your loyalty has always been with the Left Hand. I need something... and I believe you can lead me to it."

"A realmseeker." Kayros guesses.

"No." Baphomet turns to him, "Something else."

"So you're... not going to kill me?" Kayros asks.

Baphomet laughs and places his large gloved hand over Brandon's shoulder.

"You're here on behalf of the dark..." Baphomet says, "And with every soul lifting their left hand to our order, the light will continue to dim."

With that, Baphomet's hand leaves Brandon's shoulder and he turns away from him. He walks out of the hospital room and Kayros realizes the door is left open with nobody coming to shut it. He cautiously, as Scarlett had, moves out of the door and peeks both directions but sees nobody, not even The Baphomet in sight.

As Baphomet enters his vehicle he dials a number stored on his cellular phone and places it to his ear.

"He's out." Baphomet says, "He will wait some time but then, we know he will find her and when he does, we will find Tyler's location..... yes... now... the final one.... What do you mean....."

Baphomet is clearly angered by the other person's reply.

"I was looking forward to Mr. Starr..."

"I see..."

"I'm disappointed but, I understand. I'm a fan of poetic justice, myself."

"Very well. I will head for the XWF as we have discussed."

Baphomet ends the phone call and shakes his head at the disappointing turn of events that prohibited him from being the one to kill Danny Starr. He, instead, adapts to the caller's wishes and types in the GPS to XWF Headquarters.