The Collector's room, much as expected, was extravagant. His canopy bed was draped over with black curtains and sat on a raised platform, of which was covered in a fine fur. A few steps down from there, the rest of the floor was made of a rich, dark wood. In the corner, two leather chairs were placed on either side of a small table. To the women he often brought back here, it was one of the most beautiful rooms they'd ever seen. To Ryan, it was a sign of his arrogance and greedy.

Though there were a few dolls set around, this wasn't the bulk of them. It wasn't even a sliver compared to how many are resting in spellbound cages somewhere else in this glamorized Hell. Only the ones he was most proud of, or the ones he needed to watch, remained out in the open. Apparently, he must've deemed the young Native American's soul as highly valuable. The Collector placed the doll on a bench at the end of this bed.

He gestured over to the leather chairs across the room as he walked towards a cabinet against the wall. "Please, sit. Let me get you a drink. It's such a rarity for you to visit these days."

"It's such a rarity for you to claim me as your son these days." Ryan bitterly responded with crossed arms. The comment he'd made to that lustful woman earlier still bothered him. He was only his son when it was convenient.

The Collector turned back around to face him, two crystal glasses now in his hands. "Touche." He took a seat, though Ryan refused to, and set down one of the glasses on the small table beside him. "Though, you don't act like my son much anymore."

Ryan grabbed the untouched glass and glared at him spitefully. "Would you rather I was a drunk that overindulged in sadism, like Judas? Or became addicted to my own insanity, like Rush?" He took a seat, knowing he'd be here awhile.

"You may be different than them, but you are no better. You are addicted to your youth, and obsessed with protecting a glorified sex doll. And, at least Judas and Rush listen to me. You look for opportunities to disobey and insult me. I know you have your wits about you. You can't use an insanity plea for your mistakes, not like your brothers."

"They are not my brothers!" He snapped, "And I don't give a fuck who you are or what kind of power you have over me, don't speak of Chris that way. I do all your fucking dirty work for you. The least you could do is respect the one thing I care about. And yeah, I'll be the first to admit that it's fucked up that I have a sexual relationship with him, but he wants it just as much as me, if not more. What he's never asked for is the terrors you implant in his head. He's just a child, and you show him things that would destroy the mind of a grown adult."

"He's just a child." The Collector mocked him. He scoffed, "A child that gets down on his knees and sucks your cock every damn night. It doesn't matter if you've taught him to enjoy it, to want it, you know it's still just as fucked up as anything I've ever done to him. If you want to prevent it, I suggest you follow your orders properly. Why don't you enlighten me as to why it took you so long to hand over Nimo Foster's soul?"

"I didn't have the proper vessel prepared at the time you gave the order. I had to catch him in something temporary, then make the right doll when I got back to the shop."

"Are you sure your hesitance had nothing to do with guilt your harbored for harming the boy?" He questioned, receiving telling silence from Ryan. "That's what I thought. I understand he is one of the few you felt a sort of... Connection, with, but you don't understand exactly what his little resistance group had brewing." The Collector placed his drink down just as there was a knock at the door.

He rose to his feet and glided across the floor. The long red robe that adorned him like royalty followed behind him so gracefully. The fabric covered almost every inch of his pale blue-grey skin. Only a few of his dark grey tattoos along his neck were visible. His age showed in the tattered edges of his wings and silver that had consumed his entire head of hair. Yet, not a single wrinkle resided on his face.

The Collector opened his door to his true first born. He was offered over a silver case, of which he happily wrapped his monstrous fingers around the handle. "Recently, Nimo struck a deal with a rather nasty alchemist. An ex-friend of Kuza's, as well. In exchange for the resistance's muscle, the alchemist created a deadly virus. It was highly contagious, and extremely deadly." He unlocked the case and opened it in front of Ryan. Inside, three glass tubes containing a glowing red liquid rested. "They had planned on releasing the virus this morning. It would've taken two days to infect the majority of the population, and it kills within five days of infection. They planned to only offer the antidote to those that joined them."

"If you'd taken any longer than you did, seven billion people would be dead." Judas stated as he entered the room.

"You could've told me that beforehand." Ryan replied.

The Collector snapped the case shut. "I shouldn't have to. Your job is to follow orders, no matter who or what they concern. In my opinion, giving your little toy a nightmare was a rather forgiving punishment for your defiance."

Judas smirked sinfully, "How is that beautiful little whore?"

"Like you give a fuck." Ryan sneered, standing from his chair, "If you want to punish me, then punish me. Leave him the fuck alone, both of you."

"When will you understand? His pain is your punishment. I could whip you until you were covered in blood, and it'd never correct your behavior. But, if I dare to touch that child, it straightens you out for a damn long time. You're not going to step out of line for awhile now, are you?"

He glared back at the wretched creature he's forced to serve. Ryan was out of words to say. All he could see is red, and he didn't want to make a foolish mistake. As much as he despised them both, he didn't have the ability to overpower either. He remained silent in response as he stomped out the door, slamming it behind him. His adopted family watched him leave, feeling only disappointment in his anger.

"Could you imagine, living your life in such a veil of anger?" The Collector wondered aloud. He picked up his crystal glass once again, taking a slow drink.

"No amount of magic will change the fact that he's a human. They're stupidly self-centered." Judas replied.

He sighed, pausing for a moment to think. His eyes lingered across the room on the door. "Recently I caught Kuza trying to find something using a smoke spell. Something on the surface. Find out what it is for me. I have a feeling there's something going on with those two. They've both been acting rather defensive."

"Is it alright to leave it for tomorrow? He's got that damn water witch of his around and as long as he's there, Kuza won't talk to me. Regardless, I shouldn't leave Rush alone much longer."

"Yes, that's fine." He responded, "I doubt their secrets will disappear quickly."

( ø )

After delivering a disgruntled dollmaker to the dry tunnels again, Asher returned to his master's side. When he became this distraught and saddened, Kuza worried to leave him alone. He tried everything in his power to help calm Asher. Much like human medicine, there are all natural potions, and more toxic, artificial options. Kuza was a man of nature. He avoided the sickening chemicals that many potion makers weren't nearly as cautious of. An unfortunate result of that was he didn't have the best solutions to help the disturbed.

"Tell me," He spoke just above a whisper, "Why does he upset you so much?"

They'd moved from the main area of his chambers back to the bedroom. It was quiet in here, only the occasional sound of water dripping or the natural music of the caves could be heard. Asher laid with his head on Kuza's chest, listening to his calm breathing.

"Every soul has a clock inside of it. He's tampered with his, and it's left something disgusting behind. His soul is rotting. It smells disgusting."

"Does my soul have a smell?" He asked.

"Every soul has a smell." Asher answered simply, "Yours smells like lavender; Devotion and virtue."

"Hm, I figured it'd be something more spicy."

"You're more than you give yourself credit for." Asher smiled softly, closing his eyes. He often wasn't a fan of being around anyone else, but Kuza didn't bother him. That was one of the few people that wasn't noisy or angry. He could actually rest, for once.