'Champion...?'
There was a bright flash as a galaxy-shattering explosion occurred in the distance, silent but rumbling in the vacuum. In the space of instants, star systems scattered before his eyes, glittering like diamond dust across a night sky.
'I am no Champion.'
*Bam!*
Something impossibly massive, slammed into him, and the pressure threatened to implode his chest, to rend his celestial form to subatomic strands. He was hurled down, a comet of ruin screaming across the face of a galaxy.
'Does a Champion fall?'
His pained gaze, burning with defiance, scanned the cosmic lengths, and he caught sight of them—his loved ones, his kin—falling. Bright as shooting stars, cutting through the dark. Then his gaze snapped upward. There, a lumbering, serpentine creature, its scale the breadth of galaxies, stretched across the galactic plane. Its eyes, pools of blood-raged annihilation, glared down with the weight of exterminatus.
'What use is a Champion that fails?'
Suddenly, a beam of incandescent judgment lanced down from the serpent, and it struck him, bathing him in flames of agony.
His blood boiled. His eyes imploded from within. And an enraged, silent roar tore from a throat that was no longer there.
'It hurts... Losing hurts.'
Suddenly, darkness over came him, silence settled and he was no longer in pain. Having been pulled out of his mindscape. His nightmare.
[Yes... This is true.]
Era's voice, sagely and sorrowful, suddenly echoed, reverberating within the confines of his heart.
[Yet, you will always remain the Champion. To me, and to your kin. Now, rise from thine slumber. Your healing is near-complete.]
"Gasp!"
Rainer's eyes snapped open to a stark white ceiling. To silence within the sterile, private hospital room he found himself.
Daylight streamed in.
He was alone, and the only sound was the muted murmur of the wall-mounted TV, showing high-definition aerial photos of the docks—specifically, the raw, scorched crater where the Mermaid Bar once stood.
Before-and-after images cycled as a newscaster spoke in a carefully neutral, faintly tense tone.
"...The conflict raged at the docks throughout the night. Authorities suspect a territorial war between the GBGs and the Beach Boys, whose presence has been confirmed.
A candid photo flashed: Beach Boys in their garish wear stringing up a birthday banner. Another image: a close-up of wet, cracked concrete, featuring a distinctive fedora and a stark white, smiling mask on the ground, bathed by red-blue police lights.
Rainer blinked, alarmed.
"Holy shiiit!" he drawled, the sound rusty in his dry throat. "Those are mine!"
"The Mayor has launched a deep investigation into the dock authority directors," the newscaster continued. "Five have already resigned."
She shuffled her papers.
"With the GBGs' confirmed presence, our city's crime crisis deepens. The police department is undergoing a top-to-bottom overhaul, with corrupt officers being purged. The mayor has formally requested federal aid, citing profound security concerns ahead of the upcoming mayorial elections..."
Rainer tuned it out and took stock of his body. He was bandaged all over, tethered to beeping machines and snaking IV lines.
He suddenly pushed himself up, wincing as he lifted his hospital gown. He peeled back the abdominal bandage to reveal not an open wound, but a ghastly, thick purple scar—fully healed, yet a brutal testament to a werewolf's lethal claws.
'Its healed enough.'
With grim determination, he began plucking sensors from his chest and peeling tape from his arms. Rainer tried to get off the bed, but the blanket tangled around his ankles. It suddenly pulled taut, and he awkwardly pitched forward, landing face-first on the sterile tile with a grunt, legs above him.
Annoyed, he pushed up onto his elbows, only for his hands to slip out from under him on the polished floor. He collapsed back into a sad, tangled heap of limbs, bandages, and bedsheet, letting out a long, resigned sigh.
At that moment, the door hissed open and Rommel walked in.
He stopped, looked down at the pathetic spectacle on the floor, then his eyes twitched.
"What are you doing?"
Rainer glanced up.
"Escaping!" he croaked, tugging fruitlessly at the sheet twisted around the bed frame.
Rommel sighed, a sound of profound, practiced exasperation, then went to untangle him, hauling him roughly to his feet.
"Why are you fleeing?"
Rainer's eyes were near-manic, darting to the TV.
"My teeth, Rommel! I have to save these precious, meat-eating teeth!"
Rommel gripped his shoulders, giving him a slight shake.
"The fuck are you talking about?!"
Rainer pointed a finger at the screen.
"My hat's on the news, Rommel! On. The. News! The GBGs are gonna kick me to the curb! Let go of me!!"
*Smack!*
Rommel's open palm connected with Rainer's cheek, not hard, but sharp. Instantly, the panic in Rainer's eyes cleared, replaced by stunned confusion.
He looked up, and his gaze finally focused on the hat Rommel wore.
His eyes flickered. "Yo-your hat, Rommel. It changed."
Rommel released him and stepped back, a faint, hard smirk touching his lips. He gave a slight shrug. "I'm a soldier now. Got promoted. And named."
"Ah..." Rainer stared emptily for a second, then blinked. "Named? Named what?"
"Yeah. They call me Dullahan now."
"Dullahan." Rainer's gaze dropped to the ghastly, black scar encircling Rommel's throat. One only a garrote could make, and huffed lightly.
"Huh. Cool name."
Suddenly, the door opened again, and a young woman walked in.
She was a short-haired brunette dressed in the crisp suit. Her bronze-pinned hat, that of a GBG Initiate was tipped back on her neck, hanging from its cord like a cowboy's hat.
"Mr. Dullahan!" She smiled brightly, looking at an envelope in her hands. "Ma'am Messmer wanted you to give this to Rainer when he awoke. She's had to return to Veridia—"
Rainer peeked out from behind Rommel's shoulder, and she froze, shocked.
"O-oh. You're awake?" She stuttered.
Rainer glanced up at Rommel. "Hey, Rommel. Who's this tall, big-sister lady?"
Rommel didn't bother to look.
"One of Messmer's Initiates."
The woman smiled, playfully punching Rommel's arm.
"Even Ma'am Messmer's Initiates have names, Mr. Dullahan."
"Don't care." Rommel looked away, leaving her to chuckle awkwardly. She turned her bright smile on Rainer.
"Hi. I'm Gabriela. I—"
Rommel snatched the manila envelope from her hand.
"Message received. Introductions are done. You can leave." His voice was a low rumble of dismissal.
Gabriela took a reflexive step back, her smile turning nervous as she scratched the back of her head.
"O-okay. I'm leaving."
She offered Rainer an apologetic shrug before slipping out.
At this, Rainer's addled gaze shifted back to Rommel, curious.
His eyes twitched, scowl settling deeper.
"Don't. Mention. It." Rommel demanded.
"Uh... Okay." Rainer's attention went to the envelope. "What's that?"
"Messmer called. Said you had this on you when she found you unconscious."
"Unconscious?" Rainer blinked.
Suddenly, memories came rushing back—his coat, the items, stuff he'd swiped clean from Festus.
Rainer quickly took the envelope. He noticed its seal was broken.
"It's been tampered with," he muttered, then pulled out the contents: a detailed topographic map and a single slip of paper with a neat, handwritten note:
"I believe you would want to look into this yourself. — Messmer."
Rainer let out a soft groan, a slight furrow forming on his brow. "Damn. I guess she got her paws on all my loot."
He'd stolen wallets, cards, keys—a regional boss' portable fortune. All now doubtlessly appropriated into the Family's coffers.
This map was his only consolation prize.
Rommel raised a curious brow at the map, a look Rainer caught.
"I swiped this from Festus," he explained, unfolding the map and moving to the window for better lighting.
"It's some kind of map to a place... down south?" He squinted at the markings, the terrain lines meaningless to his city-slicker eyes. Then turned, pointing at the prominent 'X'.
"We need to get here. Fast. Do you have a car?"
At this question, Rommel's expression settled into a gradual grimace.
He did not. But he knew who did. And even better, he knew a person who had likely done more clandestine research on Grayhaven than any other GBG.
He let out a low, drawn-out groan of pure reluctance and glanced sourly back at the door.
...
A few moments later, Rainer was in the back seat of a sleek, unmarked sedan, struggling to make himself comfortable in his hospital gown.
In the driver's seat, Gabriela blissfully stepped on the throttle, smoothly merging into traffic.
She grinned at a disgruntled Rommel staring out the passenger window before catching Rainer's eye in the rearview mirror.
"My friends call me Gaby, by the way. Nice meeting ya." She winked.