The air inside was tinged with the faint metallic scent of machinery and the soft musk of aged upholstery. A single door led to the corridor, closed tight, muffling the chatter of other passengers and the occasional clang of a distant bell. The seat tugged faintly beneath the body as the train swayed, the motion both soothing and disorienting. There was a strange feeling of peace on the train despite the noise and aches of a tired body.
The faint tug of the train’s acceleration pulled at the chest, while the vibrations beneath the floorboards hummed through the feet. Occasionally, the shrill blast of the horn pierced the air, echoing into the twilight. Outside, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, slowly fading to indigo. From a simple duffle bag a leather bound journal is taken out.
May 25th
Dear Diary,
It has been one week since I performed the exorcism of the Puppet Master. A week to reflect, recover, and resist the temptation to send an very and I do mean very profanity laced letter to Harker for this wild goose chase he and the organization sent me on. Seriously how do you mistake a knight or prince of Hell of its highest classes of annoying Demonic Banes for a damn PUPPET MASTER!
When I heard of this case I just knew it had to be a a knight. I knew i finally had a way into hell to get....her back. I naively assumed I’d be dealing with a Knight of Hell—or perhaps even a Prince. But no, it was merely a puppet demon tied to its Master, a class that is, while not as powerful, infinitely more irritating. They aren’t as grandiose as their overlords, but they make up for it with relentless cunning and manipulation. Their unique ability to control others with energy strings make them dangerous and always travel as a Duo.
The exorcism itself? Overkill. I admit that. I unleashed the Full Word upon the Puppet Master, every syllable crafted with precision and righteous fury. It was effective, yes, but it left me drained. The darkness they conjured was no place I intended to linger. if not for the alter with its religious pieces I would not have had a source to use as a starter. The price of bearing the word is great, the reward in battle against demons is worth it however. But every use is a constant reminder than there are certain forces Mankind should not use, even if we are allowed and even asked to call upon them.
The Exorcist Report of my work, as Harker expects, remains unwritten. Not because I lack the time, but because I’m still seething at the wasted energy. If another Knight or Prince decides to rear its head I rather not engage them without the full word, I’m not yet fully recovered to meet them at my best. And that, Diary, is unacceptable.
I am currently on a train traveling from London to Budapest. The journey spans almost an entire day, but I prefer the slow, methodical nature of trains. Planes are far too fast and impersonal, and their sterile corridors lack the grounding vibration of earth-bound travel.
What I do not prefer is this toothache—a sharp, persistent pain that arcs from my ear to my eye. The left side of my head feels like it’s caught in a vice, and every blast of the train’s horn rattles it like a hammer on glass.
Despite the discomfort, I find solace in the fading light. The sun sets now, streaking the sky with colors that will soon yield to the cool, quiet embrace of night. I wonder what Hungary holds for me—a place to settle, perhaps, if only briefly.
For now, Diary, I must bid you farewell. Night descends, and I have a report to write. If I don’t commit my thoughts to paper soon, I fear they will fester like the Puppet Master’s shadow, lingering far longer than they should have. But like all Banes...They will meet their end.
Yours,
V Helsing
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Subject: Exorcism and Purge Report – May 18th, 2004
Submitted By: Van of House Helsing
To: The Baptist Organization
On the night of our Lord, May 18th, in the year 2004, within the borders of the City of Lost Angels—known colloquially as Los Angeles—I, Van of House Helsing, submit this report with the utmost solemnity to the Baptist Organization. May the wisdom and humility of John the Baptist guide His soldiers in our ongoing efforts to purge the unclean and restore righteousness to the world in the service of the King.
Whereas on the night in question, I was arrived to a dwelling located at 1428 Wood Gate. (Assigned Case number 90210) The household was occupied by three human beings: one husband, one wife, and one son. Present alongside them were two banes—unclean spirits of the demonic class—classified as Level C+ at best, possibly B-.
Identification of the Demon Class: Puppet Master Duo-Class
- Name: Puppet Master Duo-Class
- Description: This demonic type often operates in tandem with a lower-class demon, typically an unclassified or lesser demon used as a lure. The lesser demon is a disposable pawn, acting as bait to distract and destabilize victims while the Puppet Master exerts its true influence.
- Abilities: Puppet Masters control their victims with intangible "demonic strings," manipulating behavior without full possession. Their influence fosters internal discord, manifesting as paranoia, anger, and deep emotional rifts among family members or groups.
- Signs of Presence:
- A strong sulfuric odor in the vicinity.
- An overwhelming sensation of dread and depression in the household.
- Heightened aggression, particularly among close family members.
- Lack of unity and a distinct absence of love or compassion.
Evaluation of the Incident: The son of the household was under the Puppet Master's control but not fully possessed. The manipulation he suffered will leave lasting emotional scars and trauma. Counselors have been dispatched to assist the family; Harker is advised to follow up on their recovery.
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Whereas early signs in the surrounding area suggested the presence of a Prince of Hell or a Knight, further investigation revealed these fears to be unfounded. Signs included:
- Cattle mutilations in nearby rural areas.
- Northern lights visible in latitudes where they should not have appeared.
- An influx of wandering spirits displaced from their usual haunts, possibly driven away by demonic forces or angelic intervention.
Despite these omens, no higher-class demonic entities were detected. The Puppet Master proved to be the primary cause of disturbance in the area.
Action Taken: The Puppet Master was defeated through the application of The Word in full. While I acknowledge this was overkill for a demon of this class, the act was necessary to both cleanse the space entirely and deliver a point to any observing malevolent forces.
Suggestions for Follow-Up:
- Dispatch marriage counselors to the household. While most parents strengthen their bond after such an ordeal, I observed significant relational tension that will likely fester without intervention.
- I recommend spiritual guidance as well, as this family appears estranged from Christ. My brief interaction with them was enough to test my patience—particularly the husband, whose demeanor left me tempted to administer divine retribution in a more direct manner.
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Van Helsing sighed heavily, setting the pen down for a moment as the train rumbled beneath him. He leaned against the window, watching the countryside blur past in the deepening twilight. The faint colors of the setting sun painted the horizon, but his gaze was distant, unfocused.
After a long breath, he resumed writing.
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While the immediate threat has been neutralized, I must express my concerns with the organization’s methods. The screening and detection of banes, especially of the demonic class, remains insufficient. Signs pointing to a potential Prince or Knight of Hell proved false, yet they consumed time, energy, and resources. Had a greater threat emerged, I would not have been fully prepared due to the unnecessary exertion required to cleanse this case.
The Puppet Master has been defeated. The household is free of immediate danger, though their spiritual and emotional recovery will take time. Harker must ensure that the family’s care is handled properly.
Case closed.
Signed,
Van Helsing
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Van Helsing let out a deep sigh as he folded the report, slid it into a battered leather folder, and secured the latch with a satisfying click. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, but the rhythmic rattle of the train against the tracks was a balm of sorts, a reminder that life moved forward regardless. He leaned back in his seat, staring out the window as the countryside rolled by in a wash of muted greens and golds, the sun long since set.
Hours passed. The train slowed with a shuddering groan as it pulled into Budapest Keleti Station. The platform was dimly lit, the stark fluorescent bulbs humming faintly above the bustling late-night travelers. The air smelled faintly of exhaust, old brick, and rain, though no storm had yet arrived.
Van Helsing stepped off the train, his boots striking the platform with a deliberate cadence. The station was an architectural relic—arched ceilings, iron beams, and walls soot-streaked from decades of steam engines past. Now, sleek modern trains sat incongruously on the tracks, their smooth metal surfaces reflecting the dim light.
She was waiting for him at the edge of the platform.
The woman was tall, her build lean but powerful, her presence commanding. She wore a sharp gray pantsuit with a black tie, the tailoring impeccable. Her short, dark hair was styled close to her scalp, accentuating her strong jawline and sharp features. An androgynous beauty radiated from her, but there was nothing soft about her demeanor.
Her arms bore tattoos in sharp, geometric patterns, black lines and shapes winding down to her wrists. On her right forearm, a series of runic symbols peeked out from under her cuff. Her ears carried several piercings—simple silver studs and small rings—but her most striking adornment was the black septum ring that sat unobtrusively on her nose, balanced against her otherwise composed appearance.
Her voice was low, smooth, and confident as she greeted him. “Welcome to Budapest, Mr. Helsing.” Her eyes, sharp and discerning, appraised him.
the tired Helsing nodded, tipping his hat slightly. “Thank you,” he replied, his tone even but reserved.
She gestured toward the exit. “The car is waiting.”
Outside, the night air was cool and crisp. A vintage Lincoln Continental idled at the curb, its black paint gleaming under the pale glow of a streetlamp. She opened the door for him, and he climbed inside, the leather seat creaking faintly under his weight. The interior smelled faintly of old tobacco and polished wood, a lingering echo of another era.
The woman slid into the driver’s seat with practiced ease, the engine rumbling smoothly as she pulled away from the station. The city of Budapest unfolded before them—a blend of old and new. Narrow cobblestone streets wove between Gothic spires and ornate facades, while modern glass-and-steel buildings loomed in the distance. The streets were quiet at this hour, the occasional flicker of neon signs casting fleeting glows across the sidewalks.
After several turns, they pulled up to their destination. The building rose before them like a fortress of opulence and power. A grand structure of dark stone and intricate ironwork, its fa?ade was a seamless blend of old-world charm and modern precision. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the upper levels, their glass glinting like polished obsidian, while the lower floors were marked by columns of carved stone, each etched with symbols that hinted at both beauty and danger.
The entrance was illuminated by a canopy of soft golden light. A wide staircase of black marble led up to double doors framed in ornate brass, their handles carved into intricate shapes resembling crossed swords. Two men in dark suits stood on either side of the doors, their postures straight, their gazes unflinching.
The tired exorcist stepped out of the car, his boots clicking against the marble as he ascended the steps. He paused at the top, his hand resting briefly on the brass handle. For a moment, he gazed up at the building, the faint hum of its presence filling the night air.
With a deep breath, he pushed the doors open and stepped inside.