Act III: Enter the Labyrinth
London, five months after the second battle for Britain
What had once been a lively metropolis and the seat of the British government, had been turned into a massive field of ruins and ash. Most of the structures in the once proud city had partially collapsed, many of them completely. Despite the British military doing everything it could to clean up the city up and prepare it for it to be rebuild, dead bodies still littered the streets. There were just so many: soldiers and civilians alike. Nobody had been safe from the destructive will of the Crusader Corps. Even though in the end the freedom fighters had won the last battle and had send the crusaders back to Rome with their tails between their legs, there was hardly a reason for a celebration. Not now, with the smell of death still in the air and the tears of those who lost their loved ones still raining upon the burned soil.
In one of the British refugee camps in the city, where many civilians tried to forget their pain by aiding the cleanup effort, a bright flash illuminated the scene for a split second. Those unlucky enough to look straight at it would find themselves rubbing their eyes in irritation due to its intensity. Two grim looking men were now standing there. They were dressed in black battle suits. An expert would recognize the armor as being a variation on the standard suit used by the Holy Inquisition, but these were no ordinary inquisitors. The two men did not bear the coat of arms of the Holy See: instead, they bore the coat of arms of Pope Bardarus Bismarck. Of course, the two men were members of the rogue inquisitors, loyal only to the true Bishop of Rome.
They walked towards one of the bigger tents in the camp, where two British soldiers stood guard. The two rogue inquisitors approached the soldiers, who watched them suspiciously as they approached. It was understandable why they were so suspicious. The strangers were dressed as inquisitors, and bore the coat of arms of a man the majority of the world believed to be a genocidal tyrant and religious zealot. Those who knew the truth however, often wondered whether Bismarck's reputation would ever be restored again. Some believed it would be better for Bismarck to not bother with his reputation at all and just simply disappear and continue his good works from the shadows. Only time would tell what he would do.
One of the British soldiers stepped forwards, stopping in front of the two rogue inquisitors. The three exchanged some words, and the rogue inquisitors showed the soldier what appeared to be a plastic card, after which the soldier stepped aside and nodded to his colleague, who stepped aside as well, granting the rogue inquisitors entrance to the tent.
Inside of the tent, it was an organized chaos of military officers, police officers, civilian representatives, and city administrators coordinating the cleanup effort. Amongst them were Dugal Cain and Snowflake, who had been helping the British clean up ever since the battle. The two rogue inquisitors noticed the two, and approached them. "Hello, Dugal. Snowflake. It's been a while," one of the rogue inquisitors said as he offered to shake hands. The heroes would instantly recognize the two men as Sebastian Fedorov and Karl Bachmeier. "There's something very important I want to discuss with you. Do you have a moment?" Sebastian's gaze switched from Dugal to Snowflake, indicating that he wished to speak with both of them at the same time.
Research Facility VI, unknown location
In a dark and silent room deep underground, Dacarus Bartolt and Oberus Janner stood next to eachother, gazing upon a large glass container in which a young man was suspended in a strange liquid. The young man was Silas. His body torn, his skin ripped from his flesh. Silas was unusually calm; his eyes were closed, he did not scream. He had been sedated: Janner had found him to be a nuisance when awake. Too much noise. It distracted Janner from his work.
"How many souls have the harvesters salvaged?" Bartolt asked. Janner looked down at his handheld computer. "Eighty-three percent," the scientist replied, after which his gaze switched back to Silas in the container. Bartolt nodded approvingly. "That means we're on schedule. Our original plan can continue without delay. Well done, Janner." Janner looked at Bartolt, a somewhat angry look on his face. "Your thankfulness seems to imply I am doing this for you, Bartolt. Don't forget who it is I am really doing this for." There was a moment of silence. "I'd never forget that," Bartolt replied without showing a single emotion.
Silas' eyes suddenly opened wide. A long and terrifying scream echoed throughout the facility, sending shivers down the spines of everyone there. Everyone but Bartolt and Janner, who continued gazing upon the young man. "Isn't he a beauty," Janner said with a twisted admiration.