“Some treasure that you aren’t speaking about?�

A voice infiltrated the confines of his mind lazily; somewhat reminiscent to a butterfly landing, tenderly, on the flimsy petals of a flower. His eyes turned, ever so slowly, to face the one who addressed him; the cigarette was held tightly in his lips and his hands found some kind of eldritch solace within the depths of his pockets.

“Funny? I wouldn’t say that; simple deduction breaks apart your theory easier than a child’s plaything. It can be inferred merely by what I’ve shown so far that I’m a hunter of demons; finding it weird that I come along after a demon is the same as finding it odd that a tiger stalks its prey.�

The cigarette could now be seen twiddling and moved around between the index and middle fingers of the dextral hand. “Treasure? Me? Not quite. But demons have a tendency to go where murder is easily committed and blood just as easily taken.� His eyes flitted upwards to the sky. “You see that there? A bird is floating by; still as a drifting leaf.� He shook his head with a smile before turning back to Ka’zeh and that smile disappeared. As of that moment, he completely disregarded the other’s existence for the time being.

“As I was saying…� He moved his right hand around as if manually stirring a bowl of water before placing the cigarette back into his mouth and puffing on it periodically. “I want to arm the city against demonic warfare; not really a good Samaritan type thing…just, if you can look out for yourselves, I won’t need to come back here. Whadda ya say?�

Ka`zeh observed the brief interaction between the two before sighing a bit, wishing he had more tobacco to smoke in his pipe as he listened to Jason's proposition. Demonic warfare? Gaius save us all, he thought to himself as he envisioned enormous demons laying waste to the city.

"How exactly would you arm us against these demons, good sir?" The detective inquired, eager to aid his city and its citizens in any way possible, but he did not want to go about it in such a method similar to Victor's. Hah! Some help that ogre is. Stomping around in his heavy armor like he owns the entire city. Ka`zeh cursed himself for not "accidentally" impaling the man on his sword when he protected Dusk from the back attack.

He cleared these thoughts and focused upon the task at hand. His service to the citizens of Ghalerion never stopped, and if demons were threatening their well being, he would do whatever was necessary to bring salvation to the city.

Ka`zeh blinked and turned to look at Robert, "Oh, you seem to be looking for some money, eh? Well, I can't offer much, but if you'll head to the Ghalerion Headquarters, they'll give you some for your services to the city. Tell them Ka`zeh sent you. They can also provide you with a room, bath quarters, and meals if you so desire. The city may be quite chaotic at times, but it still contains very hospitable people and taverns," He almost said this in one breath, only taking a few short pauses to point Robert in the direction of the Ghalerion Headquarters as well as a nearby tavern that seemed much nicer than the one that nearly burned to the ground.

He then turned back to Jason, and smiled, "You can also have the same accommodations for your helpful services."

“How exactly would you arm us against these demons, good sir?�

“Why, with the strongest weapon of all. Knowledge. With that, and a few other trinkets that I can provide you or teach you to provide yourself, the town should be able to defend themselves against most common class demons. If you have to handle yourself against one of the 12…then…I don’t know really, pray to your god, I assume, would be the best way to go about that situation. Hope of survival would be far and dim…� His words trailed off brokenly while eyes, luminous with great thoughts, turned themselves skywards as if tracing the outline of some invisible creature.

“You can also have the same accommodations for your helpful services.�

It was an odd thing, to observe Jason’s efforts at trying to maintain a normal and healthy conversation with another person. It seemed as if his attention span was far too fickle to be held by a singular person, or object, and eyes flitted around consistently. It was odder still to watch him recognize when he was being spoken to; he was obviously not paying attention, yet seemed acutely aware of when a question or statement was directed to him. Something inside of him clicked, as if he had been subconsciously tracking the pitch of voice.

Shrewd gazed fixed itself, appraisingly, upon Ka’zeh, his countenance overshadowed by a vague and indistinct expressions; his mind was dazed and wandering in a mist of memories that echoed with words. His mood yielded to the task at hand and to the man before him.

“…No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Taverns, beds, rooms and the like have a tendency to give one a false sense of security. If one truly wanted to cause you harm, glass windows and wooden walls won’t be much of a deterrent. I’d rather sleep outside where I can run a distance, at least.� It was his swift and caustic satire.

His hand came to his face, index finger gently smoothing the length of his eyebrows. “So, tell me; if you were a demon, thirsting for the blood of the weak and innocent and yearning to cause chaos…where might you go?�

As Gent watched the glimmer of souls travel to Redemption, he sighed, almost feeling at peace as he watched the star-like glimmers make their final journey. It was the hardest part about being a Bell Ringer of Lain. Gent had learned to ignore the cries and sobs of those left behind. He drew his left hand up and made the sign to ward off the spirits would bear ill will towards him and then struggled to get up. He was thankful for the darkness, it spared him embarrassment as well as the lame comforting gestures he would have been required to give. A priest of Lain is forgiving, passionate, trustworthy, a heart that bleed forever as long as there was pain in the world. But since losing most of the use in his legs, Gent couldn’t fully enjoy his life, a thirst for revenge was clear in his eyes.

Getting the attention of one of the priests he gave a request for a carriage to continue his duties to the imprisoned. It was granted and Gent was whisked off to the prisoner’s complex. He got to the station where Von himself had entered some time before. Climbing out, Gent managed to make his way into the main lobby. Looking around he tried to look around for the door. But as he leaned on his staff, Gent saw the look of the guards and he quickly found a seat on a bench before they could speak.

Of all the things Gent had learned in his time with Robert, acting had quickly become his first defense. Making a show of being a cripple, Gent rubbed his legs and tried to look aged and innocent of all the evils of the world.

“I am a priest of Lain; I have come to administer the rights of the prisoners.�

Ka`zeh nodded a bit, obviously in deep thought as he pondered the prospect of a demonic attack upon the city. Such a thing surely could not be allowed, especially from these "12" that Jason spoke of. The Head Inspector turned to look back at the Ghalerion Headquarters resting a good distance away. He could see the two small specks that were the door guards, and he wondered if he should report this to the generals?

"Hmm...alright. Teach me how to defend this city against demons. I'll pay you whatever is necessary for the trinkets," Ka`zeh said in a determined fashion, rolling up his uniform's long sleeves as if preparing to wash his clothes or something of dirt and grime.

He blinked a bit at Jason's inquiry about a demon, "Honestly, I didn't even know demons existed until you showed me, so I really have no clue where one would be, sir. But, if I were to wager a guess, the demon would probably attack a defenseless village. There is a small farming village north of here called Zar. You might find something there," The Head Inspector replied, running a hand through his mat of black locks.

-------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, the guards stationed inside the lobby turned their attention to the crippled man, their usual hardened expressions softening a bit.

"Yes, of course, father. I'll escort you down into the prison," One of the guards said, obviously younger than the other station guard, who simply turned away to resume his post.

The younger soldier walked over to the door leading down into the prison and fetched a set of keys from his belt. He searched the keys for a moment, fumbling a bit before finally finding the right key. This soldier was obviously a rookie, but he was able to finally get it open.

The young guard then offered a sturdy arm to Gent, smiling a bit.

"We recently caught a very troublesome young fellow, there are currently five guards posted near his cell. I'd be careful of him if I were you, father," The guard warned.

“Oh, I’ve got a way with troublesome young fellows,� Gent said as he leaned on the young guard. The priest’s eyes were sparked with humor as they proceeded down to the prisoner block. Gent could afford to be honest with himself, he was glad to have the help with the stairs.

“Ah yes, such troublesome times for people, as Lain would forgive, I too must also help cleanse the world of regret. I thank you for your help young one, I know it is not easy to help a person such as me… You know I was not always this way, no… In my youth I was rash and got into a fight that ended my walking days… Many days I hated the man who did this to me, but in a dream.. I saw him…�

Gent clutched the young guard’s arm, “I saw Lain, and suddenly I was filled with peace and then pain with regret… That night he healed me and since then,� Gent cast a hand forward, his hand caught the light from a candle. “I have strived to give peace.�

As they came to the cells, Gent went right to work, his eyes and hands helping people. Giving thanks, hearing confessions, comforting- it was apart of the work Gent hated inwardly, but knew he had to do this. His brother would be most unforgiving if he didn’t do this. Then he came to the last few cells, and before him Von.


“Give me your hands!� Gent said in a powerful voice, “and I will give you life!�

Gent’s open hands reached through the bars to Von, but tucked between Gent’s fingers was a slim lock pick. He was quite literal with his words. If Von reached forward, Gent would pass on ‘new life.’

The guard listened to the priest's tale with eager ears, his arm strong and helpful to the crippled man.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, father. These criminals need consolation. They're all sentenced to death. I honestly couldn't tell you why. The Arch Generals seem to be so cruel these days. An overwhelming shadow is constantly hovering over the city. These are dark times.." The guard responded, sighing a bit his thoughts strayed before coming back to Gent's story.

"I am very glad you found peace, father. I have a wife and a daughter. They always manage to bring me peace in the most troubling of times," He added, smiling at the priest warmly.

"Who is this? I thought Belarius made it clear, no visitors!" One of the five guards protecting Von's cell snapped at the rookie soldier.

"He is the priest here to offer consolation and holy comfort to these doomed prisoners. Show some respect!" The young guard snapped, obtaining a surprised recoil from the demanding officer.

"M-My apologies, father. We must maintain a tight security in this prison. You never know when one of these convicts will escape," The officer responded, bowing a bit apologetically.

"Hey, our post is up, let's go get some rest," One of the archers said, shouldering his bow and giving an inclination of his head towards the door leading back into the main lobby.

"Yeah, I'm beat," One of the other guards said, walking past Gent and the rookie soldier to ascend the stairs.

"Falkin. Watch over the priest. Make sure none of these prisoners get any funny ideas," The officer commanded the young soldier who had escorted Gent downstairs.

Falkin saluted rather clumsily, "Yes sir! I swear by my life and honor as a soldier of Ghalerion that I will protect the priest!"

The officer quirked an eyebrow at Falkin as if he were some strange creature he had never seen before, chuckled, and left the prison along with the other soldiers.

Falkin turned and smiled as Gent started consoling and speaking with the prisoners, and his eyes widened a bit with surprise as he bellowed at Von.

"Wow! He's very passionate about his work!" The rookie soldier exclaimed to himself, his eyes shimmering with wonder and astonishment.

Letting out a large yawn, narrowing his eyes a bit as he attempted to wake himself up. Being out for at least a few hours and interrupting his sleeping cycle definitely didn't put the man in a good mood. Thankfully what he was about to receive would improve that troublesome emotional state of mind he was in.

Rather apathetic to participate in such religious theatrics, however the sheer annoyance of those boring speeches just burrowed into his mind and caused him to scream once more. "Hey, SHUT THE FU- huh?"
Immediately his hands were snatched up through the bars and he felt something ram its way into his palms.

Almost spontaneously his cognition rang like crazy in his head and he was already aware of what was going on. After all Von wasn't a stranger to picking locks. How else did he sneak into inns during the winter and frigid rains of the Ghaleon night?

Figuring it'd be best to keep on showing his anger and annoying outbursts, it'd be fairly best to not get the guards attention by showing any signs of positive attitudes; Of course under that charade was a catastrophic explosion of bliss. For now he simply casted the man aside and went back to the corner of the cell closest to the bars, merely watching out of the corner of his eye, waiting for just the smallest slip up for Von to take advantage of.

Gent fell to the floor with a hard thud, but before hitting the ground, his eyes met Von’s. A meaningful glance was exchanged and the damage was done. Von may not have understood why Gent had chosen to help him, but he would know that the cripple before him was no ordinary priest. The guard gave a yell, and Gent forced a gentle chuckle. He was helped back up by the guard and Gent dusted himself off.

“Oh don’t you worry lad, can you not forgive these creatures? Destined to die, they become desperate. But Lain will forgive each and everyone if they choose to repent…. Now my boy,� Gent started to lead the way to the center of the room, “I must complete the last part of this ritual. Go stand on the side of the wall, have no fears, I can stand.�

Gent went to the center of the room and stood there stamping his right heel quietly against the stone work. The seal of Lain appeared under him, for on Gent’s heel, the seal of Lain was tattooed there, another tradition his family carried from birth to death- they were the servants of Lain. Gent raised his hands slowly and the world in the dungeons grew dark as Light came to him.

“You have been given your rights! Repent! And New Life shall come!� Gent’e voice echoed through out the room, “By the Grace of Lain I have come, I have healed, and I weep for you my children.�

The white of Gent’s robes faded as a pitch black color over took it,

“I am the Bellringer, for when the Bells of Lain call, ask not for whom the Bell tolls. It tolls for thee. And I will ring you into Salvation… or…� an icy cold air settled in the lungs of all who watched, “Into Oblivion.�

The darkness lasted only a moment more. It was no trickery, no illusion. It was serious business that Gent had spoken of. He had sent souls down to Hell’s Gates for his brother to pass final judgment and it was no party when it happened.

Gent’s eyes meet Von’s.

Good luck was all he thought.

His robes back to a normal white, Gent and the guard left but as they got midway up the stairs Gent stopped him.

“Give me your hand, young Falkin.� Gent said gently, “You are right, these are trouble times. I can see you’re a good man, truly one of the few left. I’d like to give you something.�

Gent couldn’t understand why the words suddenly spilled from his mouth- why suddenly he felt like such a puppet. But he closed his eyes and Gent suddenly understood. Lain. Taking the Guards hand, Gent understood that this man had a good chance of falling on hard times… all because of him and Von. And so the god set to making things right.

“May the gods look on you with favor, should you fall from mortal favor. May the Gods keep you safe from shadows, may the gods make the road smooth when it is rough. May your life be as blessed as your heart is.� Gent’s eyes met Falkin’s, “My boy, this night you have been favored, though there may come a time when it does not seem so. This night the gods have blessed you and your family.�

Gent wasn’t lying either as he finished the prayer.

Falkin, wide eyed at the occurrences happening before him, indeed gave a startled cry as the crippled priest fell. He settled a bit, although concern was still etched upon fair visage even when he walked back over to the wall to allow Gent to continue the ritual.

The young soldier simply stood and watched in awe as a strange symbol appeared beneath the priest's heel as he tapped it into the cold stone floor of the dungeon.

Gent was apparently done, and so Falkin began to escort him up the stairs before he was stopped midway.

The young soldier took the words of the priest to heart and smiled warmly, "Thank you, father. I will cherish your words forever."

And with that they left the prison. Falkin was to resume his duties at the door after giving Gent a warm farewell.

The morning sun began to creep over the horizon as the morning shift of patrol guards emerged from their beds and began dressing. Five of the guards dragged a bit in their preparations, and for good reason: they were the prison guards. What a disgusting job.

Not much attention was paid to the ritual that been done within the dungeon; All he was thinking about and waiting for was that old man and the guard to make their way abck up the stairs so he could get his opportunity to escape that wretched hell hole.

Good thing he was well rested or he wouldn't have been able to do what he was about to do. Running up to the cell, he immediately stuck the pick into the keyhole and begun efficiently moving the metal pins up, repeating this process over and over again until the door had been successfully unlocked. "Now, how the hell am I goin' to get out of here without gettin' caught by those shitheads.." He said to himself in a low whisper.

The sounds of guards stomping down the stairs alerted him and in an almost immediate fashion he let out a burst of speed, dashing down the dungeon and further inwards, perhaps seeking to find an alternative escape route since running into the morning shift guards obviously wouldn't be a good idea. "Now if I only I could find my blade, trenchcoat, and hat I'd be in a much better position."

The early morning bustle of the Headquarters coming to life would surely alert Von that his time was growing short. The guards would first dress in the Barracks, then head to the Mess Hall for a quick breakfast before going on about their duties.

The Night Shift would head to their own chambers, undress, and collapse for a well deserved rest until their shift rolled around again.

"Mutton chops for breakfast again? I want fresh bread, ale, and quail eggs!" A random guard complained, and a few others around him chuckled in amusement.

The lobby was now clear of guards, all of them heading to the Mess Hall to get their bellies filled before starting the long day.

Not much time for thought was brought into his mind, before immediately coming to an apparent halt, flaling down immediately on his side, he ignored all pain and began working on the shackles on his ankles and wrists, freeing them in little to no time at all before rearing back and taking off once more.

"SHIT!"

A dead end had lead him to where he was now, realizing little to no time was left at all, he took off in the other direction, darting his way along the stairs and towards the barracks. Food caught his attention, but of course he couldn't put his hands on it when the realization that several guards were there. Thus he decided on walking passed the door rather stealthily, before efficiently tip toeing over to the storage department where his things were.

Sticking the pick through the keyhole once more, he figured it'd be best to stay in there for the time being until the guards finally finished their breakfast and left. Looking around he spotted his blade on one of the many shelves.

But of course being the immoral man that he was, he snatched up a few daggers and threw them in his trenchcoat for safe keeping. He placed his glasses atop his nose once more, followed by that obsidian colored hat over his medium length black/gray hair. "Thank God, now then time to make an escape...."

He peeked through the keyhole and waited for the last guard to pass and immediately began punching and kicking walls, knocking over random shelves, and causing one hell of a lot of noise, aiming to catch the last guard's attention. In case he were to come, Von had that dagger in his hand concealed and at the ready.

Gent gave a heartfelt farewell to the young guard. A wife and daughter? What a job for a married man. Gent couldn’t help but shake his head as he left the station. As he climbed into a carriage the irony of the thought over took him. Here he was, a young man telling a braver man then he, not to protect his own? What would he think of next? Gent settled into the seat and ordered to be taken back to the Inn. As dawn was breaking he climbed out and went to the room he and Robert shared. It was time for a rest. Gods how he needed it. Hobbling up the steps, slipping some, Gent managed to make it.

Into the room he went and crashed into the bed. Though filled with straw, Gent was happy to have it and slowly he drifted off to sleep.

“Teach you to defend against demons?� He seemed almost affronted, as if the other had insulted his mother just now…or something of equal severity. “My dear…police officer? You can’t honestly hope to learn what’s necessary to fully protect you against demons, especially considering the varying and vast differences between the problematic creatures that they are! I can impart to you some nuggets of wisdom or knowledge, but that is all I could hope to arm you with. Lest you plan to devote your life to the teachings…which I highly?? Doubt??.�

At the end, he seemed to have soared into a rosy zone of contemplation, lofting highly in the ideals of a lazy reverie. Some dim-remembered and dream-like images flashed across the expanse of his mind before his eyes, once hazy and unfocused as he dreamed away his time, came to land back upon the man in front of him. His tone gained that fluctuating duality between austerity and facetiousness that irritated most.

“Well, know that salt is a pure substance; hit a demon with rock salt, or whatever, and expect some pain to follow. Iron is a holy metal, but not in combination; an iron sword, and only if it is iron throughout, will harm a demon. Silver, however, can temper other weapons; a steel blade with silver edges, for example.�

He paused, right hand coming up and index finger sliding across an invisible abacus in the air. “Specters cannot pass whole barriers. Salt or sand across the bottom of your doorway and your windows will protect you from apparitions. Baleful spirits, those that actively murder and posses the ability to do so, can be exterminated by finding the corpse of said ghost, salting it, and burning it.� His head began to wobble on his shoulders like a rag doll being tossed about.

“A three edged dagger is known to be a rather good weapon to use against the Unholy; make one or find one, it’ll be in your best interests.� And with not even the whisper of another word, Jason would turn on his heels and …pause.

“My name is John Constantine; speak it in the presence of evil, it’s almost guaranteed to buy you time.�

And he left.

[Exit: Jason Benedict]

Thought processes were ever present within Ka`zeh's mentality, and as the strange demon hunter passed on these small jewels of knowledge on how to deal with demonic entities, the detective could not help but feel the tingling sensation of uneasiness drape its cold fingers across the nape of his neck.

"Mmm...thank you for your kindness, John Constantine. Should Gaius' protecting hand ever fade from my light, and should demons seek out my countenance in efforts to do it harm, I will remember what you have told me this morning," Ka`zeh declared to himself as the form of John Constantine faded from sight.

The happenings of the chaotic night seemed to have finally been put to rest, but the entire situation left Ka`zeh with an ominous feeling of foreboding. He knew instantly there would be many more nights of chaos, of bloodshed, and of corruption. The cold feeling went deep into his gut, and for a moment he thought he would be sick.

Three nights without sleep will do that to a man. He becomes paranoid, even of himself. Ka`zeh took a deep breath, recomposed, and turned his crimson gaze towards the sun as it ascended to its rightful throne in the sky. The nocturnal filth of Ghalerion shifted back into the shadowy depths, and a city worth fighting for took the helm. A city worth dying for...

The man turned his attention to Robert, forcing his being back to reality, and smiled, "My apologies. Is there anything else you need before I depart to Headquarters to give my report of last night's occurences? " He inquired warmly, his eyes full of renewed hope.

-------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, within the belly of Ghalerion Special Forces Headquarters, a very rebellious upstart was causing quite a commotion.

Von would succeed in gaining the last guard's attention, and the soldier slowly crept towards the door.

"Amaro? Yee be sleep walkin again!? I wager Imma have to put the hilt of me blade in your temple again!" The soldier barked, obviously not the brightest penny in the whole lot.

The guard pushed the door open, unaware that a surprise, perhaps even a deadly one, awaited him behind closed doors.

Von took his chance almost immediately as the door had opened up, slamming his right foot deep into the shin with enough force to utterly break the bone in two and hopefully ensnare him in his embrace. Wrapping his arm tightly around the neck, keeping left foot interlocked with the unbroken leg of the guard, keeping him in place, all concurrently unsheathing his high frequency blade and making a few demands. "Give me your suit and I'll let you live...you sorry sack of a shit.."

Von was rather nonchalant with his actions despite the ironically contrasting hint of seriousness he took on while executing his plot to escape the prison. Hopefully what he aspired to do would be a success otherwise he'd most likely be executed on the spot instead of being apprehended and taken to jail like he had been previously. "Hurry, up asshole."