The mysterious blurry silhouette materialised into a tall and sturdy middle aged man. With Hyre in tow, they swiftly left the bustling streets. Around them stretched an open quagmire. The middle aged man surnamed Ralph shone a torchlight on the path ahead of them. These were the city outskirts.

  Old forgotten gravestones occasionally caught the torch's flare. They traversed the wetlands in silence, not a word spoken between them, such was the harmonious tandem between two of the deadliest assasins in all of Europe.

  Ralph stopped infront of a dilapidated iron gate. Despite his age, he swung it open with virtual ease. Iron bars creaked under the sudden friction.

  Hyre's view was obstructed by the taller man infront, but he had a very good perception of where they were. To all appearances this was a burial ground for the dead, but few knew that the ones lowered in caskets are often alive, atleast for a while before they run out of air.

  'We've arrived m'lord', saying so he respectfully stepped aside.

  Hyre walked in, his boots making no sound against the grassy lawn. At the rear end of the graveyard was a church with a massive dome. Pine trees bordered along the enclosure's brick fence, their leaves swayed in the night breeze.

  The church's plastered walls shone against the moonlight, throwing dark shadows over the lawn.

  They made their way inside, this time Hyre in the lead. The interiors lacked mantainance, cobwebs crowded the corners and every cranny was in a state of disrepair. Hyre walked towards a solitary casket in the center and slowly lifted the lid, but inside was no corpse rather a dusty floral mat carpeted the bottom.

  He drew it aside and tapped in a rehearsed sequence while muttering what sounded like incantations. The flooring of the casket gave way to reveal a dark narrow entry. Ralph once again led the way with his battery powered torch.

  They descended down a narrow staircase, heads hanging low so as to not hit the ceiling. After a while, their feet struck flat ground. Muffled wails sounded from up ahead. The light from the torch illuminated manganese–steel bars on either side of the corridor. This was a prison.

  They passed by each cell, most were empty save one. At the far Eastern end, was a cell with a faint light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A writhing figure lay writhing on the floor; His hands and feet bound, a cloth strapped tightly across his mouth.

  The man had a short stature, with auburn hair much like Hyre's. His white garment was besmeared with blood at his shoulders. Upon hearing footsteps his lidded eyes flew open, bloodshot and murderous.

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  'Such insolence, how dare you turn such a disrespectful gaze upon the heir' Ralph admonished.

  Azrael made to say something but was hindered once again by the cloth.

  'Is his tongue torn out?' Asked Hyre, his tone placid.

  'No sir, we elected to keep his ability to speak lest he know something of value'

  'There is no need for him to speak if he can write'

  Understanding dawned on Ralph and he undid the locks of the cell. As if sensing the danger Azrael began writhing violently backwards.

  'Leave it, there is no point wasting time time now' his placid voice had undertaken a slight edge, 'since he has his it let him make use of it'

  'This subordinate understands' dipping his head, he once again made way for Hyre to enter.

  The moment the restraints on his mouth were undone Azrael broke out into a string of curses 'you despicable spare, kill me! Kill me now. Now that the true lord is here, how long can you even hold your own. The true lord will reclaim what was rightfully theirs, all spares beware...Ha ha ha..' a punch landing against his cheek momentarily threw him off as the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. His vision blurred and he hazily saw the after image of a white tooth flying out.

  His head was pressed down on its side over the cold prison floor. Yet nothing could stop his accursed mouth, the moment he regained a modicum of clarity he continued 'the true lord has graced this insignificant existence with their divine presence...I..this, even if I die by your hands my life has been well worth it'

  Ralph made to punch him again but was stopped by Hyre. Seeing this Azrael once again started cackling madly. Hyre inwardly winced, such unsightly devotion, no wonder this tramp was a veteran of the Axis.

  Now both the men were kneeling on the floor to match the height of their captive. Keeping his voice as placid as possible Hyre questioned 'You said you met the true lord, where? Was it at the Huang's residence'

  This time Ralph replied in Azrael's steed 'indeed sir, we believe thats where that person made their appearance.'

  Shooting a distasteful glance at Azrael he continued 'truely a loyal associate, this fool went as far as to help them out by burying a piece of our parchment there. If its truly them, then i believe they might have an inkling of us by now'

  'Oh? So it was you who stole the parchment' Hyre asked

  'He confessed so'

  'Rest assured if your 'true lord' truly is the one you think they are then there is no way they'll fall for whatever crap you have written' Adressing this to Azrael, he inwardly sighed. An heir quite like himself who had the ambigram jotted into their souls simply cannot fall for counterfeits.

  'But sir the parchment isnt easily reproduced, who ever it may be they must know by now that the Axis is involved' Ralph replied in another's steed once again

  'Isn't that exactly what we want' Hyre mused.

  'This subordinate fears they might take this opportunity to flee once again'

  His stiff face suddenly broke into a smile, an almost fond one at that 'i can naturally decipher some thoughts of my ancestor, since they have not run yet, rest assured this time that person wants to see it through to the end'

  'I see'

  'Is there anything else he has to say' Hyre asked dusting his cloak off as he got up. 'It seems my worthy subordinate here has already squeezed out all he has to say, it seems as though you're the one I'm interrogating' his voice was seven parts animated and three parts sarcasm.

  Ralph grew grim 'I have over stepped my authority, this subordinate asks for punishment'

  'No need, its just that you would have saved me a lot of time if you had just mentioned this earlier. I would naturally trust the words i hear from you chief commander, did you think I would not?' His voice had an upward lift but it was impossible to discern whether he was happy or murderous.

  'I'll be off then'

  'Sir!'

  'Speak'

  Knowing he was in an unpleasant mood, Ralph carefully chose his words 'How should go about with Azrael'

  'He must naturally be presented with an accolade for his service' Hyre replied slowly as if pondering his options deeply.

  Azrael suddenly looked up with an expectant expression in his eyes, which were virtually the only intact part of his body. Seeing him, Ralph half wondered if the heating had done things to this brain or maybe he had overestimated him and that he was a fool afterall.

  'Bury him with our other fallen comrades' Hyre concluded.

  Two different expression came over the other two tenants of the cell. One who was not surprised in the least and the other who looked utterly mortified and that coupled with his mangled face made for a grotesquely unsightly sight.

  'Very well m'lord'