[center][h3]V[/h3]
[@Majoras End] [@Hokagae][/center]

In quick succession the four teams departed. Nero, Donnie, and Ms. Fortune went to hunt down and banish the Preta, while Jak and Daxter joined Eddie and Tess going east to round up civilians. Ghalt opted to throw wide the door to the west office and call it denizens in. Kai and a roughed-up but still-determined Leon led the way up the stairs toward the hall prefacing the fortified safe room where the youngest and most vulnerable of the survivors had been stashed. Ukyo and the Black Mage remained with Ghalt, Jill, and the Captain to keep an eye on everyone in the main hall, along with the newly-returned Joker. If the killer was hiding among civilians, no shortage of precaution could be taken. The rumble of thunder rolled down from the sky, shortly followed by the patter of raindrops on the roof.

With all thoughts on spirits and psychopaths, nobody was prepared when the front door flew open to admit nothing less than a terrifying reaper. V's eyes snapped to the intruder, and Griffon perked up. Bearing gaunt greenish skin over lean muscle and molten orange eyes glowing in a mask of bone, the ghoulish invader carried twin scythes by his side and a cold, inhuman bearing. Instantly the survivors trained a dozen weapons on him, even as the stranger stood still to demand their leader. X-baton in hand and wearing a grim expression, Howard stepped forward. “I'm the one in charge, but if you thin..!”

A collective gasp went up as someone stepped out from behind Death. From tooth to toe, there was no mistaking it. “Louis?” Howard murmured. “But...Blazermate said you died.”

Louis closed the door behind him and shook his head. “Not really. You see, I am a Revenent. A corpse stimulated into reanimation by a BOR parasite in my heart.” His clinical tone cut through the others' amazement, encouraging them to regard this knowledge as nothing special. Before long, a couple were nodding as if what he said made total sense. They'd seen weirder, after all. “When about to die, I disperse and regenerate at the mistle I rested at last. It so happened to be in the basement laundromat across the street.”

V closed his eyes, the hint of a wry smile on his face. “'A dead body revenges not injuries,' hm?”

“Well, thank God you're okay,” Howard exulted. “That means as far as we know, this killer has no real casualties. And...it's good to have you back, son.” In a more peaceful situation the Police Captain might have walked forward a couple yards to clap Louis on the shoulder, but instead he took another look at Death. Throughout the commotion the Horseman hadn't done anything aggressive, or even suspect. “Friend of yours?” he asked, curious, before offering an explanation. “There is, somewhere. Teleports, freezes things with his camera, has a knife.” His eyes fell on the teleporter constructed by Blazermate. An inert metal device, promising safety somewhere far from here, if only it worked. “But we're getting out of here soon. Right now, some folks're on their way upstairs to deal with the ghost that's trapping us here. In fact, they could probably use another person or two.” Joker, the only one present who could be spared aside from the new arrivals, received a couple looks. “But if you want to find the killer, be my guest. There's this furry yellow guy, Ratchet, who went with his medic to find him. You could catch 'em if you hurry.”

[hr]

A minute passed in relative quiet. Rain continued to fall, drumming steadily. Survivors and present fighters conversed in low tones, with some distribution of supplies going on. To prepare for evacuation the last of the stockpile in the east office had been brought to the main hall. At first nobody noticed something different, but gradually the sounds of shuffling, thumping, and rattling became too loud to miss. The crowd fell silent, straining to hear, and when familiarity rang within that noise a jolt of cold terror lanced throughout the room. Maybe it was the dead quiet, but the rain seemed to fall harder. Outside, a flash of lightning. Taking a deep breath, V moved toward the main door and peered through the keyhole.

Outside the wind whistled through the wrought-iron fence, but he could see only the bulbous, haunting dark. Its nebulous contours, touched with a sort of bluish distortion -from the moon, maybe- contorted into every ghoulish visages imaginable, playing devious tricks on the eye. “Whew,” breathed Griffon, looking out through a crack between two of the boards on the door's window. “Nothin' but the heebie jeebies, huh V?” Then V blinked twice, refocused, squinted, and found that he didn't need to imagine.

There were hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Zombies, demons, and things still worse. V's heart beat wildly, and his breath came ragged through clenched teeth, but after a moment he saw they weren't moving.

“They'll keep for a short time,” came a low, exotic voice from the other side of the door, so faint that V wondered if he invented it. “See that you use it well.”

The advice shocked V into activity, and he staggered backward from the door, fighting to keep himself upright with his cane. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted his familiar. “Easy there, champ! What, you see something?”

The poet rounded on the assembled survivors. Assuming the voice -if it existed- belonged to an ally, he concentrated on the bigger picture. “Stay. QUIET,” he told them, looking around while the command lingered to make sure there would be no panic. “A horde. A gigantic one. It's holding still for now, but not for long.” Tapping his cane, he summoned Shadow to join him. The survivors, having already more or less known, erupted into action, some preparing and some panicking, and some just trying to keep the whole situation under control. This wasn't the first time the station had been attacked, but without some sort of miracle, it would surely be the last.