Quincy's eyes were firmly shut, but that did not make him see any less. No…

He could almost taste the world around him.

The new Heart was close, very close at hand now. It called to him, echoing out in that intangible way that he'd been beaten and abused into learning. During his time as the Mad Prince's oh-so-humble servant, he'd ingrained the faint tune each Heart carried into his mind, his body, perhaps even his soul. It had taken tremendous effort, and even more tremendous pain.

But he would not call the effort torture for torture's sake. No. This was the purpose he was broken down and rebuilt for, back in the tower. There, he was recognized as a mere student, a menial to be trusted with only the most limited of tasks.

Soon, no longer. Soon, he would fulfill his purpose.

He coaxed it slowly, carefully to listen to his call. The pseudomind within the pillar heard, considering his presence with hesitant curiosity. Quincy was, after all, unlike anything it had ever encountered before.

Given the distance involved and the potential for failure, he used the slowest, most delicate touch available to him. Hours would have to be spent communicating in this manner, but failure in his mission was not an option. If he failed, there would be nothing left for him to return to back in the clock tower.

Death would be a blessing compared to the outcomes in store for him then.

His two identical minders kept an eye on him from close by, completely oblivious to what he was doing. All they saw was that he had gone completely still some time ago, and had yet to move even a millimeter since then.

"...He's not dead, is he?" one of them asked.

"How should I know?" came the weary reply from the far end of the room. "You're the one standing right next to him."

Quincy shifted ever so slightly as the tip of a worn shoe prodded his side. Beneath the hood, he frowned in slight displeasure; a distraction even as minor as that had a chance to upset the careful balance he was crafting. And yet, he sensed that they would not let this go any time soon.

Best to nip it in the bud, then. He put a pause to his meditations, and set his full attention back on his captors. The presence of mundane reality took hold once more.

"Ah, h-haha…" he stammered, glancing down at the foot still poking his ribs. "I-is there a problem? I w-w-was just resting…"

"Just resting?" the one at his side withdrew his leg and placed it back down. "Soft sleeper, I guess. And… able to sleep sitting up… posture perfect…"

The feeling of silent, intense scrutiny washed over him. Quincy resisted the urge to flinch.

"Indeed," he replied languidly, dropping the stutter from his voice. "One develops strange habits in stranger company, wouldn't you agree?"

The response only confused his interrogator further. Quincy could practically see the gears turning in his head as his words wormed their way in. Had he dropped the facade? Was this the facade instead, and the stuttering buffoon was the real him? Round and round and round it would go, and the longer he considered it, the further from an answer he would be.

He wanted to sneer. Leave the mind games to the masters, boy. Compared to his master's usual questioning – and his threats – half-hearted attempts like this barely even held a candle.

It was clear that the Thirteenth Devil was far from satisfied, but before he could act the door to the room opened with a loud creak. A third copy entered, quickly grabbing the attention of the others.

"It's showtime," he announced without preamble. "One of you needs to come with me, the other needs to stay here."

There was a brief, hushed discussion amongst themselves, one that Quincy was not privy to. Frustrating. He had a rough idea of what they were planning, but no clue as to how it would affect him and his attempts to trigger the Heart. No answer was forthcoming, either, and in short order two of the three were filing out.

The whole procession took no more than maybe five minutes. Whatever was going on, it was clear that urgency was very important. The remaining one settled back down, watching him intently but making no moves to start another conversation.

This suited Quincy just fine. He had his own conversation to attend to.

< -|- -|- >

Kensington Palace

~1 week, 5 days remaining

…It was time.

The anticipation was palpable. An electric feeling ran through the air of the southwestern front, a feeling of great change on the horizon. Even the streets themselves seemed to recognize it, as the fog settled into crevices away from where the final confrontation was about to take place. It was like the whole world was trying to hold its breath.

In the next few hours, either the monsters of the night would triumph or the tattered survivors would carry on to see a new day. Either result would have dramatic ripples throughout the whole of Hallow London.

…Or something to that extent. Henry wasn't much of a poet, truth be told. He could whip up stories that were just believable enough any day of the week, but trying to figure out that sort of artful wordiness just… well, just wasn't for him. Scraping by in the day to day was challenge enough already, thank you very much.

He chuckled silently to himself. Wasn't that rich coming from him. How would the average survivor react, knowing he was complaining about the dangers of the world despite being capable of fighting back better than most? It sounded like a recipe to get laughed right out of town.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Oh, you think you have it bad? he could practically hear them say. Just wait until you hear about our lives! I had to eat shoe leather for breakfast this morning!

Honestly, he wouldn't mind being the butt of a joke like that if it meant things went according to plan. The past few days had been a nonstop frantic rush from one crisis to the next, and by now he was more than ready for a break to come. Once this was all over, he was determined to lie low and let things calm down a while.

Somewhere safe. With enough food, water and defenses to last well into the years to come. Maybe somewhere where those considerations weren't even necessary, perhaps? The concept felt almost foreign to him, after so long getting used to scrounging up the bare necessities.

But, that was for later. Right now, they needed to fight for that shelter with both hands.

"Everyone ready?" he asked. Nothing more needed to be said, he simply received a chorus of nods in return. Dee and Claire were in agreement on this plan, surprisingly. Giselle had wandered back and fallen in with the rest of them, and now even Cecil had thrown his dusty officer's cap into the ring. Between the five of them, and the soldiers lying in wait for their cue, he was pretty confident that they could make a convincing show of stumbling at the most crucial moment.

Henry nodded back at them, then took a deep breath. Time to face his demons… and of course, the vampires too.

Only a ladder stood between him and the top of the trench. As his two other clones fell in behind him, he crested the top of it hastily, giving the rest space to climb out as well. He stood in front, taking the first steps alone.

Just the first ones. Rushing in blindly and unsupported was his old way of doing things, after all. Today was the beginning of something different, something new. Perhaps something better? Surely, it had to be, compared to what he'd had going on before.

His friends were right behind him, ready to follow him to the ends of the earth for one reason or another. They came out of the trench one by one, fanning out to his sides and preparing their own tools and weapons in much the same way he himself was.

It felt… right. He was reminded of that weird dream he'd had not too long ago. Their gaze followed his own; Down the mountain path, towards the sun.

Isn't that nice...

A faint smile rose in the corners of his mouth. They'd all do great, he could already tell. Nothing left to do but get this show on the road.

Deep breath in… deep breath out. He prepared the loudest shout he'd ever dared to let loose on the city's empty streets, bellowing a challenge out to the silhouette still looming on the distant rooftops.

"NOAPTE, YOU SHAMELESS BLOOD JUNKIE!!" The words echoed out through the night like a discordant note, triply so due to the assistance of his clones mimicking him. "I'M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU YET!! ONCE I FINISH WIPING OUT YOUR PANSY LITTLE MINIONS, I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS SO HARD IT'LL LOOK HEALTHY ENOUGH TO PASS FOR HUMAN AGAIN!! AND IF YOU SURVIVE THAT LONG, I'LL GIVE EVERYONE ELSE A TURN, TOO!! BETTER KILL ME FIRST, DON'T YOU THINK?!?!"

He spat on the ground for good measure, before charging in yelling at the top of his lungs. The others followed behind him doing roughly the same as well.

Not bad actors, the lot of them. Dee was maybe going a bit overboard with the expression of mock rage, but that's just how he was. Not quite sure if that made it better or worse than Claire's, though, because she definitely wasn't acting. He got to see glimpses of them as they ran together in a rough knot, some darting out in front for a moment before ceding the lead to another. Covering distance mattered more than a cohesive formation at the moment, so they let it happen and just let the meters fly.

The first obstacle they encountered was, ironically, the second ring of trenches. Not that it was much of an obstacle to begin with, but it was the first point where their dead sprint slowed down a little. The inside was completely empty, save for a few cannibalized bodies that were all pale as a sheet. Not a single living soul in sight.

They jumped over it without a second thought. The vampires had had barely enough bodies to man this line to begin with, and after their… rapid downsizing they'd been forced to abandon it altogether. The only reason they still had everyone pinned down in the palace was that they were now all more than capable of catching up should any of the humans decide to run for it.

With three main defensive rings around the palace, it was pretty obvious where they were deciding to make their stand. Especially since the building Noapte was currently observing from was within spitting distance of it.

It was about halfway through the remaining distance when the first signs of trouble began to mount. A single vampire rose up from the trench in front of them, and by the looks of it, he was pushed out rather than being foolish enough to meet their charge alone.

A sacrifice, then. Without a doubt the rest were lying in wait just behind him.

"I've got this one!"

The clone at his left side called dibs, and Henry acknowledged it by tossing the pipe shotgun over for him to use. Unfortunately, they'd have to share a bit – only the plain steel knives they all had were able to carry over from duplicate to duplicate, and recently they'd been relying much more on magic items that didn't share that same property. Going into this, he expected a lot of battlefield scrounging to take place against the mob.

Everyone let the duplicate take point, fanning out a short distance away and readying their own spells and artifacts. An ambush was only as good as the victims caught in it. Either the vamps called off theirs and left the runt of the litter to die, or they pushed into it anyways knowing that doing so would open them up to being caught in a much bigger one.

The answer was obvious if you only looked one or two moves ahead. They could weather more than a few storms now that they'd eaten all their supposed friends.

Three more leapt in to corner the first clone, while the rest poured out from the trench like an overturned anthill. Henry's estimate had been mostly right – they were currently outnumbered four to one, Noapte notwithstanding. More than enough to keep them stuck in place while he went and completed whatever objective involved wiping the rest of them out. His next move would tell them what was more important – keeping all of them from leaving here alive, or reaching the palace itself.

This would be a battle of wits as much as it was personal strength. Who could get into the others head better, for longer? Who could predict what the other would do next, and plan accordingly? Who could show unexpected strength where weakness was assumed, and vice versa? Henry could only hope that he'd stacked the deck in his favor enough to pull through on that front. Because he certainly didn't know if he had the raw strength otherwise.

Take the bait.

Up above, Noapte stirred. He leaned out over the edge of the roof, peering down at the battlefield below. No doubt contemplating whether his intervention was necessary or not, but Henry couldn't manage more than a quick glance before he was embroiled in his own battle for survival. Himself and his two clones managed to divert about half of the vampires away from the others, but they'd still have to fend for themselves against the other half.

Take the bait.

The sound of reactive shields squealing in protest filled the air. He focused his efforts on the vampire to his immediate right, swinging the artifact pipe wildly in his hands and opening a pocket in the gang surrounding him. The vampire he wounded tumbled a significant distance away, battered and severely injured, but not dead.

Scratch that, Not dead, and slowly regenerating.

Take the bait!

One of his clones died with a yell, unable to dodge a bite in time moments after his shield finally cracked. Even in death, he managed to take a few out with him, kicking and screaming. Things were shaping up to be a desperate melee with no clear winner.

Henry frowned in equal parts frustration and concentration.

What are you waiting for?

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