Alysa and Creed drove the truck toward the highway and out of sight; in case they were being watched, they wanted to appear as though they left the area. Once they parked the truck on the side of the road around the bend, they trekked back to the compound on foot, arriving at the rear of the large fenced-in building. “Picking anyone up?,” Creed asked. Alysa shook her head, “Still only sense one guy in there.” Creed approached the fence, “They’re hiding something. Let’s hop the fence and see what we can find.” Creed crouched and braced himself while Alysa conjured some telekinetic magic, “Ready?” Creed nodded and mystic energy swirled around him, catapulting him high into the air before dropping him onto the other side. “Wanna work on the landing next time?,” he groaned as he picked himself up. “Said you were ready,” Alysa whispered under her breath and when she lit her hands and feet up with mystic energy, she leapt over the fence and landed next to him.

They quickly made their way to a back door which was surrounded by a series of trashcans that obscured the lack of a knob, handle, or even a lock to pick. “Damn, it only opens from inside,” Creed noted, “Let’s find a window.” They circled around, quickly finding a window low enough to the ground. Creed cupped his hands and boosted Alysa up who first peeked inside to make sure no one was in the room before using her magic to unlock and open it. After she climbed inside, Creed pulled himself in after her. Once they were in the building, they noticed they were inside a meeting room which was set up with a stage at the front and several folding chairs stacked up along the far wall. As expected, a Nazi flag hung at the front of the room behind the podium.

The single guard walked through the compound, passing the kitchen, the rec room and the sleeping quarters which were all empty. As he made his way through, rifle still slung over his shoulder, he heard the sound of a cat meowing. Surprised but undeterred, he produced his rifle and went to investigate. He heard the sound coming from the small private gym and began to poke his head inside, ready for an attack from the front. Just then, a strong arm wrapped around his neck while another removed the rifle. Once he was pinned face-first to the ground, he heard the voice of the man at the gate earlier, “You really are the only one here, huh? Where’s the rest of the party?”

“You know this is a felony, don’t ya?,” the guard told him, “You really wanna go to this length for a damn music box?”

“Not normally,” Creed explained, “But with you being a Nazi and all… I can live with it.”

“It’s still a felony, even when it happens to us,” the guard finally noticed Alysa standing off to the side, “Makes sense to see you here what with crime being second nature to you people.”

“Wanna know why no one will care that we broke into a Nazi compound?,” she said, “It’s shit like that.”

“If you’re still feeling salty, we can call the cops,” Creed leaned in, “You’re okay with cops swarming this place, right?”

The guard grit his teeth, “The music box is in the basement. I’ll show ya.”

“Thanks but I think we can find our way,” Creed looked up at Alysa, “Go ahead and put ‘im to sleep.”

“I got you,” Alysa smiled, raised her foot and promptly slammed it into the back of the guard’s head which bounced his face off the floor and rendered him unconscious. Creed burst out into laughter, knowing full well she could have used magic but opted not to. “Ah, you’re a good kid,” he said as he dragged the guard to the gym, “Let’s find some rope or somethn’.” Alysa happily skipped after him. In the gym, they found a jump rope and tied him down to a weight machine before searching for the basement.

For the next few minutes, they wandered through the compound for the basement area, but found no doors leading to stairs. “Was the guy lying?,” Alysa asked, “Where’s the basement?” “Hidden,” Creed answered, “This place was built into the side of a hill instead of on top of it. There’s something under us. We need to find a draft.” Alysa used her powers to locate even the smallest amount of air coming through the floors or walls. She soon located the draft in the meeting room and when she mystically increased the flow of the draft, they found the Nazi flag swaying despite being draped against the wall. They pulled the flag down and began feeling along the plaster until Creed pushed the far end and a portion of it began to swivel, revealing a door leading to a winding staircase. Once they went downstairs, they came to a dusty basement with no lights, so Creed and Alysa used the flashlights on their phones. Immediately, Creed spotted a long, table-like structure that was completely covered by another Nazi flag with a table and an old music box beside it. “Is that what we’re looking for?,” Alysa asked. Creed picked it up and examined the box. It looked like the photo Larry showed him: a small pine box that, when opened, revealed a disc that played music and a crank. The lid contained a painting that appeared to be European mountains. On the base was some engraving that appeared to be German. “I think we got it,” he told her.

Alysa moved her flashlight to the rest of the basement and gasped loudly once she made the discovery of a room full of men hanging upside down from the ceiling. Creed cast his flashlight on them to get a closer look. “Creed,” Alysa began, “They ain’t alive.” Their eyes were closed and their arms crossed their chests peacefully. As he passed along the bodies, Creed noticed a large, bald man with tattoos, “Check out Mr. Tats,” he drew Alysa’s attention toward the swastika tattoo on his shoulder, “I think that’s the guy Larry told me about. Big dude with full sleeves and a swastika on his shoulder.”

“But how did they die and who put them here?,” Alysa asked, “I don’t think that guard up there could’ve overpowered them,” she raised the flashlight to the ceiling and noticed their feet were flat against the wood panels, “Creed, what are they hanging from?”

“Shit,” Creed quickly returned to the strange structure on the floor where he found the music box and threw the Nazi flag to the side. It was there that he noticed an old coffin. He turned to Alysa, practically snatching her by the wrist, “It’s time to leave.”

Alysa and Creed raced up the stairs, the music box still under his arm. “Like what ya saw down there?,” they could hear the recently awoken guard shouting from the gym. They didn’t try to remain quiet as they rushed through the compound. “We’re gonna find your asses,” the guard called out to them, “See what happens when you mess with us? This is what happens!” They made their way through the kitchen to the back door, knocking over a trashcan in the process. “This is what happens when you mess with us!,” they could scarcely hear the guard as they raced outside, toward the fence. Alysa used a spell to twist and bend the fence, ripping a section off big enough to escape through and they were off the property. It was already dusk, which made Creed nervous and by the time they ran down the old road to the truck, it was nightfall. That made him even more nervous to the point where he wasn’t very cautious as he tossed the music box into the floor board and started the vehicle.

“What the hell was that back there?,” Alysa asked but Creed didn’t answer as he peeled out. Back at the compound, an old, throaty voice shouted orders in German. Moments later, dark figures flew out of the doors and a few more crawled out the windows and along the walls before taking off into the sky. Meanwhile, Creed drove Alysa away from the area, rolling down the driver-side window and pulling the pistol from his jacket soon after. “So there’s good news and bad news,” Creed told Alysa but before he could finish the thought, a figure landed on the hood of the truck. A pair of boots stood firm on the hood as Creed swerved back and forth. The figure crouched down, exposing the face of “Mr. Tats”. His eyes were wide and glowed red; when his mouth opened, it revealed two rows of gnarled fangs pointing in different directions. Creed shoved his pistol out the window and began firing at near point-blank range, each shot ripping parts of Mr. Tats’ face apart. The flesh around the right eye exploded and he jerked back, but never quite lost his footing. A few more shots went through his face, exposing skull and muscle, then he finally let go and fell past the grill where he clung on by his fingers, the metal bending under his great strength. He began to pull himself back up, his teeth snapping and his lips curling into a disgusting snarl. By the headlights, they could see the flesh of Mr. Tats’ face returning as it healed. Alysa had already rolled down her window and sat on the rim. A flame ignited in her palm and she tossed it his way, which startled him and forced him to let go. He finally fell below the front of the truck, which bounced as it ran over him. With the truck jostling, Alysa began to fall but Creed reached over, snatching her by the leg and pulled her inside the cab. Then he floored the accelerator until he reached the highway.

“Like I was saying,” he said in a much more calm tone once the excitement was over, “There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is that, not only are they Nazis but they’re also vampires. The good news, though, is that they are both Nazis and vampires.”

“The hell does that mean?,” Alysa asked.

“It means that no matter what we do to them, we don’t gotta feel bad.”

Back at the compound, Mr. Tats descended from the air, his face having already stitched itself up with no signs of ever having been shot. Some of his brethren stood in the field, keeping watch, their eyes glowing in the darkness just as his did. “Hey, Bobby,” the human guard exited the compound’s front door, “The Master wants a few words with ya.” Mr. Tats nodded and moved past him, then went downstairs where he found a man in a Nazi commander uniform waiting for him next to the coffin. Like Mr. Tats, the man had vibrant eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth as well as a youthfulness that served as a contradiction to the old, dusty uniform he wore. The German officer silently picked the Nazi flag off the dirty ground and placed it back on his coffin. “They took the kalliope,” he said in a thick German accent.

“I found them on the road,” Mr. Tats told him, “I couldn’t get it back, though. I think the black one knows magic.”

“Iseda followers are common in this area, like a cancer eating away at the host,” the officer placed his gloved hands behind his back, “We have the rest of the night to find them. If we do not succeed, we shall tomorrow night and the night after that until it is found.”

“Master,” Mr. Tats began, “I feel like these aren’t normal prey. They’re not like average humans.”

“Did you forget I’ve also faced humans who were not… average?,” he growled, showing two rows of fangs that seemed to point in every direction.

“I understand, Master. I’m just saying that… maybe we can let it go? It’s only a music box.”

“Yes, only a music box,” the officer said calmly, then violently snatched him by the throat and hefted him off the ground, “… And you will find that goddamn music box, is that clear?”

Mr. Tats choked through his next words, “Y-yes,…. Master.”

The Officer dropped him to the ground and turned away, “See that it is done,” he disappeared into the darkness of the basement, “In the future, be sure to know your place.”