Their prior leisurely pace evaporated faster than water in a desert. Grace and Enrico hefted the barely-conscious radio host onto the litter within moments of the two Devils striking an accord. While they busied themselves with securing Robb, Dee dusted himself off a bit and began setting up his own preparations for the dead sprint ahead of them. For having just met each other, the two parties displayed a shocking amount of coordination. No need for words, orders or other directions. They just moved for their common goals in their own respective ways.

Dee carefully stepped around the handiwork of the two Reformationists as he stood up from his ivory throne, and with a snap of his fingers the neck of his electric guitar zwipped to his outstretched hand as if pulled by an invisible wire. Giselle produced what appeared to be spare aux cord from somewhere behind the seats, and knelt down besides Robb to secure him tightly on what little flat walkspace there was on the raised platform. Simple knots, using the woven pattern of the bone flooring to provide secure points to tie off on. Henry noted she was awfully handy for someone he'd mentally catalogued as 'cosplayer'.

Topics to explore at another time. While she busied herself with that, Dee withdrew a pick from his leather jacket and slung the instrument around his neck. He licked his lips in anticipation, and with little more than a power chord, the entire undead formation around them began to move.

Several dozen skeletons from the rank and file approached the litter while Henry busied himself with prepping every speed-loader he had available to him. He watched in mild interest, then partial discomfort as the skeletons began to… conglomerate… into the palanquin, for lack of a better term.

"Uh… just what exactly is happening right there, Dee?" Henry asked, watching the scene play out while trying to keep the mild undercurrent of disgust out of his voice.

"Oh, this?" he replied. "I call it the Running Man. For, uh… reasons that will be obvious momentarily. Don't worry, I'll have equally sweet rides sorted for the rest of you in no time."

I really hope we agree on the definition of 'sweet' here…

One by one, the skeletons each split apart at the waist. The lower half with the legs would walk underneath the raised platform, while the upper torso crawled onto the sides of the litter to hang on for dear life. This process repeated until there was no more room left beneath, and by the end of it there were enough skulls and ribs dangling off the edges that it looked like it had a skirt. A rather macabre skirt, Henry thought, but unmistakable nonetheless. Every square centimeter underneath became fully occupied, and the original procession of carriers dropped the platform onto the assembly with an audible series of clicks.

By the end of it all, the palanquin had an unsettling, insectoid look to it, reminding him distinctively of something closer to a centipede than anything else that was comprised mostly of human bones.

"Whaddya think?" Dee asked, as a literal ripple of movement squirmed through the mass of too-many legs. "Is this driving in style, or what?"

Henry felt unclean just looking at it. But Dee was clearly proud of his work, and they had more important issues at stake currently than aesthetic tastes.

"...I think there's not going to be enough space on that platform for all six of us," he eventually settled on. Not exactly a compliment, but the other Devil certainly took it as one.

"Ah, right you are, old bean!" Dee responded in a cheery, posh accent. "I shall summon the levvies!"

"...old bean…?"

An invigorated thrum resonated from within the guitar, and he leapt into another riff with gusto. From within the gaps formed by the assimilated soldiers, three new, larger figures began emerging from the foggy ground below. A hoof emerged. Then two. Great beasts of burden slowly began unearthing themselves, shaking off loose clumps of soil as they trotted out through the self-pulverizing rock beneath Henry's feet.

They looked… almost like warhorses. No doubt, if there'd been even a bit of flesh between the three of them, they might have been indistinguishable from those steeds of legend. As they were now, however, there were some rather glaring differences that were immediately noticeable.

For starters, normal horses didn't have parts of their ribcage fused together to form bone plates. Nor did they come with bits and bridles literally built into their anatomy. These creatures had both. Heavy, scale-like plates overlapped their bodies like medieval armor, and every trapping a rider needed was literally grown out of the thick ossified surface. It even had stirrups. Fully functioning, bone-and-vertebrate stirrups.

They were nightmares that looked more at home in some horror or dark fantasy movie than in real life. But, considering real life had essentially become one of those for him, that meant it might just be the perfect thing for charging headfirst into a vampire attack.

Perfect, except for one, tiny, insignificant detail.

"I hope you know I've never rode a horse before," he informed Dee.

Honestly, it probably would've been weirder if he did. Out in the countryside? Sure, it might have made more sense for him to pick up a skill like that. He was from the city, though, where the closest he'd ever been to horseback riding was his old clunker of a motorbike. Destined to live out his days in a greasy flat with nothing but four walls and an antiquated answering machine to keep him company. A boring life, sure… but not one where he risked being trampled by his own undead warhorse, either. Some considered that a fair trade, but Henry had his doubts.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Oh, don't worry too much about that," Dee responded unconcernedly. "They're dumb as a box of rocks. Won't do anything you don't want them to, and follow directions to a T. I spent ages figuring out the wetware to make it as intuitive as it is, but there should be no problems after the last batch."

"...Last batch?"

"Like I said, don't worry about it."

Giselle silently flashed Henry a look that said maybe worry about it a little, which did not inspire confidence.

He sighed. "Well, not like we have the time to be picky…"

Henry awkwardly hopped up into the… saddle… of the beast after nearly losing his balance a few times. Dee gave him a nod of approval and prepared to give his army the order to move out.

"Alright, boneheads! We've got a job to do! On my mark, I want all of you to-"

"Look out!"

Giselle was the first to notice the immediate problem with that plan. Her timely interruption gave them all precious reaction time, as the first of the vampires that had been circling went in for the kill with a flying leap. Evidently, none of them were too keen on them getting away faster than they could manage.

Henry's attention immediately snapped to the divers as brought his revolver to bear. One round, carefully placed. Punched clean through the ugly flat nose of the first one to make the jump. His ears rang as the bullet essentially clotheslined the vampire in midair, arresting its momentum entirely while the remaining opportunists landed on the platform.

Or, what they thought was the platform. The skeleton torsos provided a little bit of extra space to grab onto, but they let go of their perches the moment the vampires found solid footing. The fall wasn't far, but it was far enough to leave them as easy pickings for Grace and Enrico on the ground.

Let it be known that even without a steady supply of blood, vampires could still dish out some heavy beatings.

Enrico aimed above the belt. Grace aimed below. Probably something to do with the environment they learned to fight in, but the results were the same either way. Another vampire toppled to the ground in a twitching heap, face squashed and with broken shards of hip bone poking through the already stretched skin. The rest began to circle, snarling angrily but slowly building up the numbers to overwhelm them.

The one on the ground struggled pitiably. Not dead. Just crippled. Might as well be the same thing with what their plan was.

"Get moving!" Grace shouted at the rest of them. "We're right behind you!"

The odds weren't great for them even now, but it was more likely that they'd only get worse from here. Henry was more than happy to oblige with the order, confident in Grace's ability to keep the situation from spiraling too quickly. Spurring the skeletal horse into action, he swapped a fresh round out for the one he'd spent.

Those two practically lived and breathed fighting vampires at this point. If anyone knew when to hit and when to run, it would be them. If they said they'd catch up, then they'd catch up, without a doubt.

Though, after a bit of thought as he and Death Jr. drove their respective monstrosities through the streets, he grabbed two extra rounds from his satchel and jammed one into each ear. The combination of cold metal and a tough fit was not conducive towards it being pleasant, but it would sure beat the alternative. He figured he was about to do a lot of shooting, so the last thing he needed was to be deafening himself again.

It proved to be a worthwhile investment from the moment they rounded the first corner.

Like termites, small ambush groups of vampires crawled out of the woodwork. Literally crawled. It was like watching someone kick over an anthill with how many were coming out of hiding. The numbers were vast, vast enough to make one thing abundantly clear to him.

"Either the entire western thrall-camp is out in force tonight, or there's something else going on…"

"Huh?" Dee winced as another round tore through the night air and found a home in the skull of a vampire that got too close for comfort. "Say that again?"

"We might be in for a worse scrap than we thought!" Henry shouted over his shoulder this time. "This is an absolutely reckless amount of vamps for a group that constantly infights with each other!"

"What- ngh- what are you suggesting is going on, then?" Dee dodged an errant swipe from a vampire on the ground before bringing the side of his guitar down on the outstretched fingers of the monster as they passed. It was a miracle he managed to hit anything, or that the offending vampire had gotten close enough to begin with. They were moving pretty close to top speed already.

"I don't know," Henry responded. "But it's nothing good, I can tell already!"

He turned his attention back to the road, the galloping of the horse beneath him bobbing him up and down. As they cut throught the enveloping swarm like a knife, the trail of bodies chasing after them only got larger and larger. Before long, the whole street was looking like an inverse of a running of the bulls, where instead the crowd was chasing the animals rather than the other way around. Henry chewed through round after round as they sped on, an equal amount of bullets being fired over his shoulder as were being directed towards the enemies in front. There seemed to be no end to them in sight. At this rate, he might actually run out-

For the first time in a while, a vision flashed through Henry's eyes as he caught a glimpse of their destination. Phantom pain blossomed in his neck, and for a short moment he felt his skin growing cold as the lifeblood was drained from his body. Then he was back, and he realized that the numbers he was seeing now were nothing compared to what was currently besieging the warehouse.

It was ridiculous. Complete overkill numbers of vampires. All very clearly more than any one thrall-camp could ever field at any given time. All for a small handful of mages. Henry's estimates of their odds were slipping by the second, but at this point they were in too deep to back out now.

It wouldn't be long before they arrived at the warehouse at this pace. As such, it was in his best interest to make the herd to be as thin as possible by the time he got there.

He spun another speed loader into the chamber, and kept up the pressure as best he could. It wasn't anywhere near enough, but it was a start.

< -|- -|- >

The duplicate saw his progenitor die right in front of him. It wasn't a pretty death, but at the very least it wasn't anywhere near some of his absolute worst.

Funny how every death, regardless of severity, always seemed to be preferable to running out the clock. As bad things were, and as peaceful as the timer expiring looked from the outside, each of them knew for a fact that surviving until the very end was, unequivocally, the worst way to die.

Having your crystal separated from your body was a close second, the main difference being between experiencing true nothingness and experiencing the agony of losing everything all the way through the last minutes of your life. He'd make sure to go out ahead of schedule, too, if he got the chance. Right now, he had one empty slot to work with, and by God he planned to make use of-

A flash of somewhere else briefly caught him off guard. A lone copy, on foot and surrounded by vampires in Walworth, much like he was. Just… seemingly nowhere near anywhere important. He died in pretty much the same fashion as his progenitor. It wasn't quite obvious what had been happening there.

Well… I suppose that makes it two slots, then…

He didn't have time to think about it. Knife fighting in the middle of a horde tended to sap your attention like that. He barely had time to rotate in another copy before-

Too late. His turn now.

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