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"I'm terribly sorry," Victor said, sarcasm glowing in every syllable as he exhaled smoke. "But I'm just not eligible to join any covens at the moment. My vampire dues aren't paid up you see, and I'd get in such trouble with the union."

Charon opened his mouth to say something and Angel held up one finger.

"But you said you wanted to talk, and that's more than me getting off one liners at your expense. So here's the deal. Stop looking at my friend here like an entrée, because I guarantee she'll give you indigestion, and we'll talk. How about we start with why you think Shaper is some guy named after a Pokemon?"

Charon scowled. "Merrill... not Marill. And he looks nothing like a little blue mouse with a white tummy."

"You haven't seen him in his footie pajamas. Sorry," Victor said blankly. "Couldn't hear the difference."

"Fine, you call him Shaper, and I'll call him by the name he once lived here with. Merrill was a vampire hunter here, several years back, when the guild from Vampirum was first establishing its order here. Merrill was assigned here, a pleasant friendly man, human, married, with three children, and a worshiper of demons in secret. Well, we'd had enough after dealing with his summoned beasts and himself thwarting us time and time again." He paused to take a sip out of a nearby goblet. Victor was SURE he did NOT want to know what it contained.

Charon continued.

"We, all the separate covens in the area, amassed under the rule of three masters, and in one night, we laid waste to everything he called dearest. His wife, raped and torn apart, his three sons, given the death their father had given to so many of us, staked through the heart, beheaded, and burned. We left a note foolishly announcing our return the following eve. That time, he was ready for us, having summoned, and channeled a demon from the middling planes of hell, he fought us, long, and brave and hard. One of his spells sheared off my face, just as tore my hand up into his chest and pulled out his heart.

"After, one of my minions gutted him messily. We left him for dead, sure the demon wouldn't be able to keep him alive with all that damage. But to be sure, I ordered the house burnt. Needless to say, to see him alive, well, and unburnt walking my town again is a disturbing thing to see. So, I am either going to force him to join me, or I am going to kill him, you, and that little tartlet next to you."

Victor glanced back at Amy.

"What do you think, can we work a horrible death into our schedules? No? Well, how about working for a psychotic vampire with no face?" Amy shook her head again. "Well, sorry, I'm afraid that just doesn't work for us, especially considering Shaper won't know what you're talking about any more than we do." The short, dark man took a half step forward, taking the clove out of his mouth and gesturing with it. "Let me explain. Naw, that'd take too long, I'll sum up: This Merrill guy you're talking about did die. After your hideous battle the vampire hunters guild decided that they'd use his body to build something bigger, stronger and faster. After all, they had the technology. They took him to their stronghold on Vampruim - where I'm from, and set about resurrecting him using science instead of magic. It got screwed up, but he woke up anyway and came back here by accident. So he isn't the guy you had this battle with any more." He took a long draw from his cigarette and let the smoke creep out of his mouth as he continued. "Not that I think any of that matters to you, but I just thought I'd let you know."

"Humph. Well, I figured any man with that much damage done to him should by all rights have been dead, but if he came here, then perhaps his pet led him here after he was 'resurrected' as you so calmly put it." Charon stood, picking up the goblet and pacing.

"But since you aren't going to join me, then you give me no choice. TIMMORN! NOW!" he shouted, banging on a tapestry covered section of wall, pretty much revealing where Shaper was held.

Now they had a choice, as other vampires, who had been in the shadows the entire time, left to slaughter members of the town. They could stop the murders of townsfolk, or save Shaper. And even with the two of them, there would be great losses.

"Sorry Shaper," Victor said loudly. "You know how it is, these egomaniac mad men just can't be reasoned with." He tossed the butt of his clove down, drew his gun, and before anyone could move towards him, had pretty much demolished the wall behind which Shaper was being held. By incredible luck, of Angel's eerie sixth sense, Shaper was untouched except for being deaf and covered in splinters, but the vampire holding him was trying to heal a head wound.

"Amy." She nodded, and with a toss of her head peeled off the mask, reverting to her true, full vampiric nature. Angel caught it as she tossed it to him. Rather than chance anything getting in the way, he fired off a round at Charon before lunging forward towards Shaper.

The wiry investigator slapped the mask on right over the electrical tape. And despite that, it still reclaimed its rightful place of being one with Shaper's skin. Victor kept right on going, out the back door, with Amy not three steps behind. Lives would be lost, but they'd see how few that'd be.

Shaper hissed, and the tape holding him snapped. He stood, and growled none-to-politely at the vampire before him.

"I would so love to kill you all for this - but my friends need me now." So he settled for bashing Timmorn's face into the wall repeatedly, then darting off to catch up with Victor.

The night was one big bloodbath, the town had a population of 776 humans, and 89 vampires. By the time dawn raised her head, there were only fourteen undead left in the city, and only five dead humans.

Shaper had done a lot of running, managing to keep going despite his failing energy. And when he thought he'd reached his limit while trying to tear a vampire off Amy's back, something inside him snapped, he felt suddenly very cold, and then the vampire was dead - torn to shreds of flesh. Amy stared at him, but then moved on, because they had to. Shaper looked at the bloody mess he'd made, and didn't even recall how or when he'd done it. But he'd killed four vampires in less than two minutes... simply by tearing them apart.

Victor was up ahead, holding his own on the lit front porch of somebody's house. Luckily, once the townsfolk discovered what was going on, they came out fighting, using guns, knives, rolling pins and even one old matron who used a frying pan. Soon, the tide turned, and three very tired heroes stood in the midst of the bloodbath, surrounded by cheering townsfolk.

It was over - for now. Shaper, Victor, and Amy knew Charon would never let them leave this town until he was dead. Charon would simply continue his rampage until there was nothing left but a colony of the undead, and the dead. The mayor insisted they not pay any more rent at the house for what they had done for the town.

Shaper blinked, and looked at Victor, unsure if he'd protest or not. He didn't, he seemed relieved.

Amy had vanished a little before the sun had risen fully, and that left Shaper, now mask-less and Victor, looking tired and worn and mobbed by grateful townsfolk. As for the five who perished, no one blamed the trio for not saving them, in fact, they had numbered among those who had chosen to fight to save the town.

The Mayor declared called for a holiday after the dead were put to rest, and the mess cleaned up.

"And," he added with a knowing wink in Victor's direction, "that gives a chance to let you boys get some well-earned rest!"

"Yeah," snorted Victor under his breath as he turned away. "Rest." The supernatural hunter rooted in his pockets and came up with a pack of cloves, and extracted the last one. Then he tried to light it, but his lighter was out of fuel.

"Damn it."

"Here." A unfamiliar lighter stuck out, and Victor glanced at who was offering it. Recognizing the guard captain, he accepted the light. The guard captain had been one of the most competent people out there that night.

"I'm sorry," Victor said, sparing a glance at Shaper, who was picking bits of dead vampire out of his hair. "I didn't catch your name."

"Shawn," the guard captain said, pushing his hat back. "Shawn Hillman." He lit his own cigarette and sighed. "Look, Mr. Shelly."

"Call me Angel."

"Gotcha." He blew smoke out. "Angel, no offense, but I think that was too easy."

"No kidding." Victor shook hair out of his eyes, and looked at the brightening skies. "I know Masqers that won't back off this easy. Of course, most Masqers won't go rabid like this lot."

"Angel," Shawn said in the utmost seriousness. "I was wondering something."

"So was I," Victor said. "For instance with the number of vampires in this town, why don't you have a Guild representative?"

"She got pulled out a few weeks ago. Something about Guild Politics." Shawn's eyebrows knitted together. "But quite frankly, that's what my question was about. The guild promised they'd keep an eye on Monibul while our slayer was gone. Why didn't they send help last night?" V

ictor inhaled deeply through his clove and let out the breath in an explosion of smoke.

"I couldn't tell you," he replied honestly. "The guild sometimes does things no one can explain."

"Hey, Victor?" Shaper said. "I really want some sleep, okay?"

"You think you'll be able to?"

"If I don't get some sleep soon, I'll kill any nightmare that comes near me." Victor extinguished the last of his clove and tucked the filter in his pocket.

"Well, if something's going to happen later, better I get some sleep than it catch me unrested."

"Sound advice." Shawn nodded.

"You'd better follow it."

"You kidding me?" snorted the guard captain. "The number of reports I'm gonna have to write over tonight is simply disgusting."

With a friendly salute of camaraderie, they parted ways.

"I get the shower first this time," Shaper snarled at Victor, poking the smaller man gently in the chest. "YOU didn't get parts of undead thingies in your hair and all down the insides of your shirt."

Victor, for once, agreed, he was cleaner than Shaper after that bloodbath, and the way he'd acted under the mask's powers was... odd to say the least, but he figured he'd ask Shaper later.

And later found Shaper sprawled on the floor, tangled in blankets and pillows wearing little more than his boxers. Victor and Amy were snuggled up in bed, and it was only slightly after three in the afternoon.

They'd REALLY needed the rest after all.

By evening, Amy woke first, hunger clawing at her gut as she did, and rather than bite the rather convenient meal beside her, she slipped out into the woods beyond the town.

An hour or so later, Shaper was awake, and stood, half-dressed by the windows running along the living room's front wall, staring at his mask.

It was part of him. Yet... when he'd put it on last night, he lost his own self. It was as if he was a puppet, and the mask had become the puppeteer. Dancing on strings of black silk ribbon coated in blood that only he could see. Ribbons that spoke dark whispers into his ears, promising terrible things, and offering others that made his face turn red, and anger close his throat.

But he couldn't part with it, not now, not ever. He was like a junkie now, hooked on a fix that kept him alive, and protected his friends. Part of him wanted to toss the mask out the window, chain and all, and a stronger part forced him to clip that tether onto his belt.

He pulled on a clean shirt, his boots, and his coat, and left Victor and Amy to sleep. He had to end this tonight, or Charon would make things worse.

Because of him.

Because of who he had been.

And because the mask was unearthing nightmarish memories he did not want to face, and Charon's death was all he could think of to shut them up. He walked into the kitchen, and blinked.

Atop the table lay a single red rose, and a card. Figuring it was for Victor, and being ever nosy, Shaper flipped the card open and read.

There was a carefully hand printed note that was not Amy's fine hand.

"Come for me, find what you are seeking, and we will both get what we want."

It wasn't signed, but Shaper knew who it was for, and who had left it there. With a hiss, he placed the mask over his face, and left.

Charon was definitely going to be a dead man.

Victor woke up as the door banged behind Shaper and rubbed his eyes. He could feel he was alone in the apartment, and given the events of the night before, he would have appreciated being woken before everyone left. He stumbled to the sink and stuck his head under the faucet, then trailing drops of water, set out to find Shaper.

He didn't like what he found.

Shaper sat perched precariously atop a stone monument in the town cemetery, and Charon and he were just talking.

In voices too low for Victor to hear.

"...The thing you summoned in life, is trapped in that mask you wear. It is now as much you, as your limbs and new memories are. You cannot get rid of it any more than you can get rid of Victor. Because it is your nature, Merrill's nature, to hunt with a partner, and now it is yours as well. And there is no-one you can trust better than Victor to watch your back, and you his."

Shaper hissed in a breath.

"So, does this thing have a name? Can I tame it? Get rid of its influence? And why aren't you telling my about my life here? Why just things about the demon?"

Victor was now close enough to hear it all, and he wasn't sure Shaper wanted to know he was eavesdropping in on this.

So the slim hunter sat still in the shadows, and refrained from lighting a clove. Not that he could anyway, until he refilled his lighter.

Charon sat down in the grass, and stared up at Shaper.

"You can come down, I'm not in the mood for killing tonight, and I detest having to crane my neck when holding any kind of conversation."

Shaper leapt down, and settled into a half-kneel across from the seated vampire master.

"Screw the demon. I can read up on it later... what about me, who was I, and why won't you tell me anything?"

Charon smiled, and reiterated the tale he'd earlier shared with Victor.

Victor was surprised Shaper was in angry tears at the end of it, but all he did was clench his fists and stand.

"Show me where they are buried... where WE are buried," he muttered softly.

And the pair moved, towards an overgrown section of the cemetery, and Shaper knelt, clearing off the stones there.

"Merrill Foxhunter, cherished, beloved, and fallen... oh great god in heaven be merciful. Erin Foxhunter, mother is the name of god in the hearts of all children. Adam Foxhunter, arms of heaven open wide and have mercy on this lamb of god. Jared Foxhunter, and the lion shall lie down with the lamb, and there will be peace upon the earth."

Shaper blinked back hot tears, and looked up at Charon.

"I've seen enough... leave me alone you monster! I remember too much!"

Charon reached out and grasped the rizen's arm tightly, hefting him up.

"I'll TELL you when you've seen enough! I want you to remember who you were, and all the horrors you left behind, and WHY everyone here has forgotten your name and deeds!"