Vladimir stumbled out of the mansion in his black trench coat, covering his raven purple shirt and corset. His short, slicked, jet black hair was tucked away by his top hat from the last remaining drops of the sky, the clouds slowing down their tears. His breath reeked of expensive wine and was a tad bit drunk. So was everyone else for that matter. He turned his head towards the mansion door as he saw Lucifer and Ferguson stumble out, arms wrapped around each other. “Ya know?...You're not so-hic- bad…” Ferguson slurred as he pulled Lucifer close.

“You either, handsome.” Lucifer said as he pinched Ferguson’s cheek. Vladimir looked at Lucifer knowing full well the truth. Lucifer was very much sober. Just a faker. 

Vladimir found his fascination with humans bizarre and the way he went about it was unbecoming. 

“Still…not interested.” Furguson responded, sluggishly shoving Lucifer off. “I…mgh…need to get home to my boy…” he began to stumble down the crumbling brick road. Vladimir could only think of how foolish he was. He knew the man could get run over in this state. Sighing, he began to march over to him.

“Ferguson!” he shouted to him, trying to get his attention from his drunken haze.

Ferguson blinked, dumbfounded. “Oh! If it isn't old Ebaneza Scrooge!” he said, chuckling and stumbling towards him. 

“Me, a Scrooge?” Vladimir asked, taken aback. “Why, I never-”

He was interrupted as Ferguson tripped and landed onto Vladimir's chest with a loud thud. He then proceeds to poke his face. “You are such a...mgh, grumpy, grumpy pants…” he responded.

Vladimir slapped his hand away. “Keep your hands to yourself,” he hissed. “I’ll take you to your abode. I just need to find out where it is…” he held his fingers to Ferguson’s temples, proceeding to close his eyes and focus on the rivers of memories flowing in Ferguson’s head. He was able to find memories by manipulating his cranial and spinal nerves to join with his. It was a complicated and straining process, but he needed to get the man home. 

He soon found where he lived, seeing a humble abode. Nothing extravagant, but he was definitely well off.  “There you are.” Vladimir said as he removed his fingers. He patted his cheek. “Come on, chap.” 

As Vladimir walked him to his carriage, Ferguson trudged behind him like a drenched dog. He pulled him in as he stumbled himself inside to his seat. “Take us to Birch Road!” he ordered as he tapped against the roof with his cane. The carriage trudged off, throwing Vladimir slightly off balance in his seat as the carriage moved the opposite direction as him. 

Vladimir slapped his cheeks with both of his hands, trying to sober up. He stared at Ferguson as he saw him drift to sleep, drooling. He grabbed his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the man's mouth. He would not have drool in his carriage. He didn’t know what the other members saw in this man. He seemed washed up and melancholy. Not very befitting for a leader. He sighed and shook his head as he looked out the window, woeful clouds beginning to blend into dull brick buildings. 

As the structures began to feel endless in the eyes of Vladimir, the carriage slowed to a halt, causing Ferguson to fall onto the floor. He let out a groan in pain.  “Where… Where am I…?” he spoke, slurring his words.

Vladimir sighed, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Not at our destination,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why the devil did you stop?!” he hit the roof of the carriage once again in frustration.

“M-my Lord…” the coachman stammered. “I simply don’t know how to d-describe-”

“SPIT IT OUT!” 

“I-It’s like a graveyard of bodies…” the coachman whimpered in fear. “I-I think I hear-” the last thing that was heard from him was a scream that quickly trailed off and a force that shook the very core of the carriage. 

Vladimir held onto the walls of the carriage for dear life as Ferguson’s body slammed against the carriage door. “What in the hell?!” Ferguson shouted as he crawled onto the seat. The slam seemed to have sobered him up. “I already have a bloody headache!” 

“Hush your mouth, fiend!” Vladimir hissed as he looked out the window. “We’re in a bit of a bind…” It seemed as if the fog suddenly formed as Vladimir could only see forms of body mass on the brick road along with glowing wisps of blue. He tensed as he began to unscrew the top of his cane. “Stay inside.” 

Ferguson looked dumbfounded and scared. “W-where are you going?!”

“I said,” he pulled out a blade from his cane and pointed it at him. “Stay. Inside.” Ferguson held up his hands in defeat. “Good boy.” He chuckled at his own comment before speeding out the carriage door, slamming it shut behind him. 

His eyes scanned the area, stepping over the dead bodies. Sounds of faint screeches deafen his ears as he tries to sense how many there were. Two. Four. Six. they seemed to grow in mass steadily. His eyes darted in panic before locking eyes with a set of glowing blue ones. Its mouth was frothing like a rabid dog and its eyes were widened in alarm. It bore its fangs at him, crouching on all fours. It seems like some skin was falling off due to decay, exposing the maggots underneath. It was as if he were a zombie. But it was definite that there was a vampire in him. 

More appeared, appearing similar to the one he locked eyes with. Tens. Hundreds. He was outnumbered, but he stood his ground. There was no way he would back down. But just as he thought that, a man walked up. 

He had the same glowing blue eyes, but he stood tall. His skin was the normal pale color, but blue veins were visible through it. His eyes pierced Vladimirs. And all they did was stare, and stare, and stare. Without knowing it, he soon blacked out.

**********************************************************************************************************************

“Vladimir!” shouted a voice that Vladimir himself connected automatically to Ferguson. “Oh thank heavens you’re not dead!”

“Nothing could kill me twice,” he murmured as he sat up from the asphalt. “Now quit hovering over me.”

“Right, right. Uhm… I would like to thank you for saving me back there.”

“Saving you?” He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well, when you came out and ran into the fog, all those blue dots came together then quickly dimmed to nothing. That’s when the fog cleared. Odd how the weather works.”

“Yes, how odd indeed.” he stood up, holding his head. “Where’s the coachman?”

“I believe that, when those dots disappeared, he went with them. Poor man,”

Vladimir groaned silently. “That leaves me to drive the coach home. Get inside, dawn is approaching quickly.”

Ferguson nodded and made haste to the carriage. They trudge on, rolling over the mangled corpses below them as muscle turns to mush and bone turns to dust. As they make their journey, the gray sky gets a peak of happiness as a small glint of sun peaks over the stone buildings. Not enough to hurt him, but enough for him to worry. 

They soon arrive at his home, relieved that Ferguson will finally be leaving him alone. “Thanks for taking me home, Vladimir!” Ferguson said on his way out the carriage. “And, again, for saving my life. Those creatures could have killed us.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe…” Vladimir responded, exhausted. He had to ride the carriage himself after everything that happened.  “Please get out. I must return to my abode.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Vladimir.” He stepped out of the carriage and walked inside his home. Vladimir heard the laughter of children as they greeted Ferguson, a cough following behind it. Vladimir sighed as he whipped the reigns to usher the horses forward. He was a long way home, dreading the long ride there.