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A beep of a new message was heard from the bedroom. Stooping down, Arthur sadly went to the bedroom. Respiratory slowed down, heart

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rate went back to normal, but dragging pain, ruthlessly undermining the soul, had not stopped.

– Message from Thierry Zemeckis – began the computer in an unctuous voice. – «Detective, start to the police station, we have arrested a subject with a severe fotoaugliofobia». The reading is finished. There are no more messages.

– Damn! The world is crazy, and it has involved me into the vortex of madness; I will not stand the new regime. No, I can't stand it! Listen, I can't stand it! – He shouted in syllables, turning to the extinct computer monitor.

The clock on the nightstand to the right of the bed, highlighted figures showing that it was two o’clock a.m. Arthur took remote control, turned on the miniature music center which started playing a melody with a dash of gentle and invigorating notes of rock ballads; the composition provided a smooth awakening.

The lights studding the ceiling crossed with iridescent unevenness flashed. Arthur passed to the bathroom again, turned on the faucet adjacent to massive rounded tub, set the water temperature and, after removing the tight-fitting trunks, put his body under the hot water flow.

After seven minutes he was sitting on the glass chair at the same table. The table had one leg consisting of two winding pipes curved on the floor. Arthur was eating chicken cooked on the electric grill with side dish of brown rice and raisins from transparent deep square dish, washing it down with clean water. Having finished, he put the dishes in the sink, passed the kitchen doorway, and appeared in the bedroom. Doors of the built-in metal wardrobe slided apart and a coat flashed from there with its leather shine. The city was raging in the ebullient night life. The moon was shimmering in shades of blue tones, turning into flushed yellowness, or crimson glow. Silent graveyard was bathing in the dim light, and the pervasive and routine silence was disrupted by a bunch of young people in black clothes. People were the teenage Goths waiting for transformation; and the creatures were

enlightened werewolves.

– There are dark gravestones, lit bonfires and the forthcoming Orgy

with the female of the pack of werewolves who was the witch; there are captives, chained with barbed wire to abandoned, overgrown with morning glories crucifixion; everything is so delightful, – prepuce voice was heard. –

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You’ll behold the reign of darkness this night, and you will change. Darkness will embrace your souls and the blood will wash you, throw you out of the relation… ha… and you will become a part of the new life that will gain you.

The quiet of the night was broken by roar of a motorcycle; chrome turbine was spitting fire.

– You, Sweeney, come. Take this blade from my hands and stick it in the heart. Yes, Sweeney, in your heart. You, Bella, take off your garments, appear before Baal; tie her to the altar… – the speaker tripped and fell with his head crushed by the slug.

Bulky motorcycle shooted up off the sloping roof of the vault and landed on the cemetery's land; and, throwing the ground from under broad rear wheel, whirled, and intensively ran off ahead. The driver in the black fluttering cloak opened out his hands clutching the silver and black handguns and started riddling cartridge clips of lead. Eluding like the lightning werewolves were escaping wounds; suddenly the werewolf grabbed the bumper and knocked the «steel horse» appeared from nowhere.

– Shit, the sect, I see the things seem to be crappy…

Pale werewolf in a suede cloak stood up. The upper part of his head, having been splitted, exposed brain.

– Oh, shit!

– Yes. Yes! – chuckling, said the disfigured. – You showed up on time to become the victim.

– Fuck! Arthur King has two tiddlers, and they like it hot!!! – He grabbed out two guns; werewolves swiftly ran. – A-Ah!!! Devil, die!!!

A Goth, appearing behind him, stuck a folding knife between his ribs. Arthur howled and threw the teenager over his head; bullets flew cursorily, without touching the moving werewolves. His hair dropped on his sweat face and prevented him from seeing the surroundings. The sword ascended, and the detective, dodging the naked blade of the katana, disappeared behind the scattered column with the cherubim. Moving in the flying dust, he took a short blade with the fabric intertwined handle from his trouser-leg. A single swing resulted in a demolished to the ground werewolf’s head; katana of the defeated enemy struck in his hands, and Covenant invested by the master, was expressed in the speech:

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– The debt of the soul is deeper than the seas and higher than the mountains. My enemies are you. Happiness is ephemeral, when a foe’s heart hits shivering of life and bubbling Evil deters willful strike of all- conquering character. Have I frightened you, whoresons?! I’m pouring out my blood; – he laughed madly, – do not rejoice! I will die with you, here and now! Fear, rescued from my soul, will descend in you! – and, playing with the swishing blade, Arthur was rapidly approaching the werewolves, ripping and crushing the Goth who had broken into a run. His sword was seen as a revolving circle, being a perfect mastery of renzoku-waza that is a complex combination of thrusts. His gaze became cold-blooded determination and extraordinary calm; the second werewolf fell, having experienced the power of iaijutsu; the third, being behind Arthur, clasped him in his arms and plunged the claws into the flesh, whispering in his ear:

– You will die a long and painful death. Your words are mere. Fear is inside you, for you are hopeless; the wounds are incurable. You are bleeding profusely. And your blood is blackening. Do you imagine yourself the hero? Nonsense! – the claws sunk deeper into his flesh close to the liver. – Who are you now? Or what will you be? You are nothing. And do you know why? Because you're a human being. And like Neko-Mata I’m going to amuse myself with your lifeless body. Are you terrified with the impending decease?

– The teacher had been telling me from the first day of consecration to remember about the death. When I go to sleep or wake up, when I eat or starving, when I’m awake or reflect when I watch the farewell rays or the rising sun, I always remember about death. So behold the feeble person, me Arthur Jorja King!!! The man who doesn’t care about death, who doesn’t care about you, freaks! That’s because God is with me, and you are beneath me! – he burst into insane laughter, stamped his boot – the blade slipped off the soles – a kick in the groin followed; the werewolf recoiled, and Arthur turned around with lightning speed, picked up the fallen sword and cut off werewolf’s head with the blade. – Who wants the tail, who wants the crock, huh? Neko-Mata, dammit!

Sighing heavily, he wiped the blood flowing from his nose, and, clenching his bloodied teeth, with a shout rushed toward the Goth appeared in his way. He hack the body from the shoulder to the belt. The youth fell to

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his knees, breathless with the blood gushing from his mouth. Black bangs fell on his pale forehead, eyes with red lenses look upward. With pain Arthur looked at the ruined soul, at the sacrifice made not by his hands. The barrel of a gun set into his head and he heard a female voice:

– You’ve ruined everything! I'll kill you! You’ve killed them, you’ve shredded them like babies! Damn! Who the hell are you?

– You wish to hear the answer… And who are you and who are they? You’re going to kill me? Do! I’ve seen enough of horror and death! These O-Yama and Beherits are different in the languages but the same in nature. They are those slanderers and opponents, the Devils and Sets that have poured into new regime and flooded the minds of people as parasites, stuck in you, in me. I’m fed up with them for they have filled the whole world! The world is being convinced and has been convinced by them that there is no, no, no, fuck, either Evil, or Good! Because we're Evil and we're Good. Yes! We humans, puny humans are the both. Then, then, then we are Gods, only we are and nobody else! – he turned around and the muzzle of the gun set against Arthur's forehead. – So, bitch, you want to know the answer, don’t you? – he shouted, – Must you know the answer or not?!