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"Listen," you say as you start getting up slowly.

You bolt and the preachers stand there and do nothing. "Who the fuck was he?" you hear one of them demand quietly when you are nearly out of range. The New Church brought the living dead into Metropolis? Children have been killed for less. Obreal will have someone's head for this.

You bolt toward Obreal's tent like you had wanted earlier this day. The few citizens who have not taken part in the illegal services at Church today watch you run because there isn't anything else as interesting going on. You know even before you see Obreal's personal guards you will be stopped, but you do not slow down. You bank around a bend, an asthmatic for air, where Obreal's personal guard stationed. Both men step forward on your advance, more than the hint you need to slow yourself.

"I'd slow down if I were you", one says gruffly, "running isn't going to permit you to see Master Obreal any more than waving a gun is."

"What's your business?", the other says flatly.

"They... The New Church, they've brought one into the city. There's one here!"

The guards exchange glances. Both of their faces search the other's.

"Alright. You need to be searched before you can go in. Turn around, hands in the air."

You comply. The New Church is so dead. The true significance of your presence at Obreal's tent hits you. If that zombie was the special something intended for today's church service, a citizen could be infected and the beautiful Metropolis could already be finished.

You stand ready for the guards' hands to probe you for weapons or poisons with you back to the tent.

Something heavy hits you in the back of the head. You had thought the world was silent while you were standing, but somehow on the way to the earth floor, the world seems even more mute. Tight knots bind your wrists together and the last thing you feel before you lose consciousness is the scraping of the ground against your face.