Inside House Beneviento, Ethan's face flushed red. He tossed the stiff wooden coat rack aside and cleared his throat to cover the embarrassment. Walking over to the sofa, he stared at the veiled woman Ryan had knocked out with a single chop, equal parts confused and alarmed.
"Ryan, what the hell just happened? I saw Mia, clear as day..." Ethan rubbed his still-throbbing temples.
"Here's the short version." Ryan yanked a few sturdy curtain cords from the window and tossed them to Ethan. "Our friend Donna here is basically a high-powered human hallucination hotspot. She uses toxic pollen as a carrier to hack straight into your nervous system and play back whatever you want most and fear most. You were hugging that coat rack and crying your eyes out, so I pulled the plug."
Ethan's eye twitched.
Still, he understood. Without Ryan, he'd probably have lost his mind inside that illusion for good. He sighed and quickly tied Donna to a heavy chair with the curtain cords, good and tight.
"I'll go get some cold water." Ethan turned toward the washroom.
"Don't bother." Ryan walked behind Donna, pressed two fingers into a pressure point on the back of her neck, and pushed.
Donna jerked awake with a pained grunt.
She tried to struggle, only to find herself bound to the chair. And Angie, the doll that had always spoken for her, the doll that made her feel safe, was lying on the carpet across the room like a piece of discarded junk.
Without the doll to hide behind, Donna's scarred face was fully exposed. The eerie menace and arrogance were gone from her eyes, replaced by raw panic and timidity. She was shaking all over.
"Awake? Good. We're on a clock, so let's skip to the point." Ryan dragged a chair over and sat down across from Donna, legs spread wide. "You can think about my cosmetic surgery offer later. Right now, my friend here has some personal questions for you."
Ethan strode up, slammed both hands onto the armrests on either side of Donna, and locked eyes with her. "Where's Mia? What did you people do with her?!"
"I... I don't know..." Donna shook violently, her voice so raw it sounded like sandpaper on sandpaper.
"Don't play dumb with me!" Ethan ripped out his pistol and pressed the muzzle flat against Donna's forehead. "You freaks dragged her into this nightmare. You'd better tell me where she is right now, or I guarantee you won't need cosmetic surgery ever again!"
The cold steel against her skin sent Donna's breathing into overdrive. She glanced at Ethan, then at Ryan's impassive face, and her walls finally crumbled. She stammered out the words. "M... Mia... is... is with Lady Miranda..."
"Miranda?" Ethan's brow furrowed. That name again. The Duke and Lady Dimitrescu had both mentioned her. "Who the hell is this Miranda? Why did she take Mia? Where is she?!"
"She... she is a god..." At Miranda's name, a flash of near-fanatical reverence crossed Donna's eyes, and her voice took on a manic edge. "She created us... bestowed her grace upon us... Mia... Mia is important to her... you can't beat her... everyone will belong to her..."
"Okay, stop. Hold it." Ethan dug a finger in his ear, impatient. "I asked for intel, not a sermon. Besides the fact that she's a cult leader, does she have any weaknesses? Where exactly is her lab?"
"I... can't say..." Donna shook her head frantically, her eyes showing a terror deeper than what the gun had caused. "If I betray her... it'll be worse than death... you have no idea how terrifying Lady Miranda is..."
Ethan racked the slide on his pistol, ready to push harder.
"Forget it, Ethan. Someone this far gone isn't gonna give us anything useful." Ryan sighed and stood up, walking behind Donna. "If you won't talk, back to sleep."
Another clean chop to the neck. Donna didn't even get a last word out. Her eyes rolled back, her head lolled, and she was out cold again.
Ethan watched Ryan administer the physical anesthesia with practiced ease, and quietly holstered his gun.
"Quit staring. Grab that glowing glass bottle she had on her. That's the crest we need." Ryan pointed at a strange yellow crystalline flask on Donna's person.
Ethan stepped forward and secured the crest. The two didn't linger at the manor, turning back the way they came.
...
Without Donna's influence, the hallucinatory fog blanketing the valley dissipated completely, and the path ahead became clear.
On the way back, a few roaming Lycans and some Ghouls that had crawled up from underground tried to block their path. But after Ryan's crash course, Ethan had shed every trace of his earlier panic.
Ethan crouched behind a rock and fired with calm precision. Gunshots echoed through the valley, each bullet finding its mark. He'd even learned to use the terrain, luring several Lycans onto a narrow suspension bridge and wiping them out with a single grenade.
"You're a fast learner, Ethan." Ryan trailed behind him, hadn't even drawn his gun. Pure sightseeing mode.
"If it means saving Mia, I'll learn anything." Ethan swapped out his magazine on the move, heading toward the altar. "Two more crests to go. We need to pick up the pace."
Through the last iron door of the underground passage, they emerged back at the snow-covered altar.
But just as Ethan was about to place the yellow glass flask into the mechanism at the altar's center, he froze.
The altar, previously empty except for the Duke's carriage, now had two uninvited guests.
On the left, a hunchbacked, misshapen figure draped in a ragged black robe. His body was covered in revolting blisters and pustules, like some mutated giant toad, crouched on the ground and hacking up green slime.
On the right, a man in a vintage trench coat and round-framed sunglasses sat perched on a boulder. A cigar dangled from his lips, and he was toying with an enormous metal gear. The gear had no visible support, hovering above his palm, spinning with each flick of his fingers.
The other two Lords: Moreau and Heisenberg.
When Ryan and Ethan emerged from the passage, Heisenberg blew out a thick ring of smoke, his lips curling into a wild, arrogant grin.
"Well, well. Look who's back."
Heisenberg hopped off the boulder. The massive gear behind him morphed into a terrifying heavy hammer. "The American with more lives than sense, and his mystery pal who blew that old hag Dimitrescu sky high."
He shouldered the hammer and sized Ryan up from behind his sunglasses, his tone dripping with open provocation. "Heard you two paid Donna a visit. What, her pile of busted toys couldn't keep you entertained?"
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