°°° Gateway °°° In the basement of the Lower Class Condo, the Lower Nine and Lower Four coaches both looked into each other’s eyes. Miss Jameson was no longer trembling, but the look of horror on her face was still quite present. Carlos, on the other hand, remained calm and maintained his dominance. He had to be somewhere else at the moment, but he was still waiting for the lady to make up her mind with a patient smile. He was trying to get information concerning Sean, Kate, and the Cataclysm Order themselves from Miss Jameson, but he was also wisely using the time to adjust the energies flowing through his body at the moment. His seals had been damaged, and if he did not take the time to see to it that the rifts and crevices created by Miss Jameson's attacks were sealed, he risked an expansion, and he knew this body would break if more energy escaped without him resting for a while. He had maintained this aura of dominance not because he needed Miss Jame

°°° Uncharacteristic Characters °°° After a full four minutes of pushing, Carlos was finally able to get the "table’s" lid to open up about a quarter of the way and stopped pushing. He staggered back and let himself fall into the embrace of the high-back reading chair, panting heavily. "Um... what just happened?" The confused Emily Sanders asked with eyes wide open. Is this not the same man that returned from a fight with a Sequence One Radial moments ago? "How is he straining to push this open?" she quizzed herself internally. Carlos took a moment to catch his breath, then he said, "A gate to the infernal void was just opened; that’s what happened." He really is rebuilding the Infernal Void. No one has ever been able to locate any of the three gateways, and he was fortunate enough to find them, and... could it be that he was also being honest when he said, "I am the Infernal Void"? Is this man the Black Death? "Is Carlos Wilson the Black Mist?" she thought to herself,

°°° Taste of Death °°° • Carlos Wilson’s Underground Study • In his study that once smelled like old parchment and wood, the Black Death scholar Carlos Wilson held back his urge to puke as the stench of rotten fruit and sewage took over the room. He had turned off all the light sources, turning the study into a dark space. Following the contents of the page, he created ragged, asymmetrical diamond shapes in-between the double circles of black powder with the same powder, placing them at the approximate north, south, east, and west sides of the double circles. According to the Grimoire, the black powder of crushed dragon bones and scales wasn’t just for containment. Apparently, it was also to appease and attract the attention of the entity he was about to call upon, as it produced a smell only this entity could perceive. After adding the blackish liquid he had put in the middle of the double circles to the center points of the asymmetrical diamond shapes and after

°°° Diversion °°° • Central City, Philadelphia • -Colonel Jennifer’s Residence- Sitting in the comfort of an arm chair in her bedroom, the Colonel and newly and officially appointed Oracle had her ears covered with ear muffs. Having just ascended, officially, to the class of an oracle, Colonel Jennifer Moretti was yet to get her body conditions completely under check. Her senses were almost literally all over the place. Although she was able to get most of it under control, her ears were still going crazy, hearing anything and everything within a kilometer radius. Although focusing her abilities on a single point on the outskirts of that radius helped to reduce the noise, some other sounds managed to squeeze into her ears. The muffs were to help with blocking out the sudden, ear piercing sounds that filtered in on their own accord. Taking deep and calm breaths, the kilometer radius slowly dropped. Finally she found a little peace and comfort, and a smile found it’s way

°°° Blood Pool°°° • Kengle Park, Oak Lane, Philadelphia • Raising his head, Sean saw the hooded fellow, Jay, holding a knife, stabbing at the same spot he had just left. If he had been a second slower, he might have been stabbed multiple times in the back. Injuries from blunt attacks like the brass knuckles and the wooden bat, he could take and survive; with the dagger in play, he had to be weary of Jay. After his boastful comment about their trump card, the teen with the brass knuckles, Henry, scoffed and ran at Sean. Maintaining his unclenched fists in the air, Sean widened his feet, firming his stance as he awaited his assailant. In seconds, Henry was at striking distance and threw his fists at Sean’s torso, aiming for the sides, but Sean blocked and parried each hit with his cupped palms, until Henry suddenly spun on the balls of his feet, sending his elbow into Sean’s chest, forcing the young lad to stagger backwards. "You look surprised, Bull’s Bane!" Henry chuc