Sutter Center of Psychiatry, Sacramento.

"Aren't we all," said Praetorious. "I think you'll be fine, though. Without their Objects, Holders are nearly human. I doubt that any sort of supernatural weaponry will be necessary." The car pulled up to the Sutter Center, Argyle slowing down as he neared it. Praetorious gripped the pocket watch tightly, thinking of the Holder.

He was a relatively old man, his realm being mostly dark, the only defining landmark a bloodied guillotine. How easy would he be to break? Praetorious supposed that that would depend on how long it had been since Jon Stokes had gotten the Object. Which begged the question, how long did it take for a realm to disintegrate completely? Praetorious always assumed that Seekers would become Holders when they were taken over by their Objects, but what happened to Holders after their Objects were gone? They obviously did stay around, but would they disintegrate, or would they become human again? Intriguing.

Of course, it was an afterthought. Praetorious' actions further perpetuated the cycle of Seeking and Holding, becoming a balancing factor. Seekers took Objects, and Praetorious returned them. Equilibrium.

He looked up at the Sutter Center as he stepped out of the car. He wondered if they would recognize him from when he tried to get to the Holder of the Mind, and now he was with someone even stranger. He smirked just a little to himself thinking about how they might react.

Holders as an addict. When Praetorius had said that, it made him think more of Seekers than anything. Why were Holders addicts? He thought they were only there to guard the Objects from the addicts. Or did the Holders and Seekers have more in common than he thought?

"There's so much I still don't understand," he said aloud, "but I'm looking forward to getting answers."

He walked in with Praetorius.

"Let's see what we can find out," said Praetorious as he walked inside. The chain of the Pocket Watch was wound around his right hand, and he held it clasped between his fingers. He strode nonchalantly to the front desk, addressing the receptionist there.

"Excuse me," he said to her, "I'd like to see the Holder of the Tower." He held out the Pocket Watch for her to see. "It's urgent."

Security guards burst into the room, but they did not arrest and condemn Argyle and Praetorious as the Holder's instructions said they would. Instead, the guards formed a sort of perimeter around them, as if to protect them from some sort of danger. The security men ushered Praetorious and Argyle silently through a pair of double doors that didn't appear to be there before, and only darkness could be seen beyond them.

After a few moments of walking in a total, foggy darkness, the guards were gone, and Praetorious and Argyle found themselves looking at a massive building, part of it buried in the ground. Praetorious led the way, climbing through a window int a room that looked much like a library of some sort. It was caked with dirt, however, and obviously hadn't been used in years. It was almost pitch dark, and Praetorious could almost make out the figure of an old, well-dressed man as Argyle climbed into the window.

The Holder of the Tower.

Argyle followed silently behind, coming down to the floor with a thud as he looked up at the figure before them.

This was only the third Holder he'd ever met. The first two times, he took a life. The first was taking the Holder of the Unknown's life with the Object he took from her, and the second, he was forced to shoot a man strapped up as a target in order to claim Accuracy's rifle. Both times, he had done it without shame and guilt.

He wondered if it would be similar this time. Would he have to kill again? Or had he just been lucky the first two times? He flanked Praetorius as they approached the Holder of the Tower, his face blank.

The Holder lit a candle, illuminating the room ever so slightly. "What is it you want?" he asked wearily, obviously tired from missing his Object. His face was lined deeply, his suit greyed and tattered, as if it were thousands of years old. Which, Praetorious mused, it was.

"A better question is," he said, holding up the Pocket Watch, "what can you give us?"

The Holder looked up at it, as if it were something very dear to him that had been lost quite some time ago. "My watch..." he said, trailing off. His face softened. "I will give you whatever you want," he said, moving closer to Praetorious timidly. "Just please..." he looked at the Watch with a sort of reverence.

"We'll see," said Praetorious, giving Argyle a "so far so good" look before continuing. "We want to know about the being that calls itself Muramasa, as well as a servant of Edo Edi Essum's that has blonde hair and pink eyes."

The Holder seemed to shudder ever so slightly at the mention of the latter name, as well as the description of the person of interest.

"I know almost nothing about this Muramasa. Legends say that he has fought in thousands of battles through time, and now holds himself together through sheer force of will. That is all. As for the other of which you speak, I have only slightly more information." The Holder looked reverently at the Pocket Watch, hoping that his answers would be satisfactory.

"His name is Marnin, a man whose birth was engineered by the Devourer. He was once human, but Essum's servants raised him like a son, shaping him into a loyal servant. I do not know what it is he desires, but one could only assume that he wants to free Edo Edi Essum from Balance's prison. I know nothing else." A pleading look came over the Holder's face. "Now, may I please have my Object back?"

"I don't know," said Praetorious, looking back at Argyle, "anything else you want to ask?"

Argyle thought for only a second. He came here for answers, but for another reason as well. In fact, only one question really rose to his mind now.

"As a normal Seeker, I'm constantly risk of dying at any moment. Especially with Marnin and Muramasa about. I want to avoid that. How can I become stronger?"

Other questions could wait. Or, he suspected Praetorius would be able to answer some of them. Right now though, this was what he wanted.

Praetorious was somewhat surprised by the Argyle's question. Obviously, he took his humanity more than a little personally. Of course, in a world populated by beings like Praetorious, or Muramasa, or Marnin, or Edo Edi Essum, who could blame him?

The Holder took a tentative step forward, trying to get closer to the Object. Praetorious took a step back in response, glaring at the Holder of the Tower with a don't-even-think-about-it look in his eyes. "Not yet," Praetorious said, "answer the question."

The Holder of the Tower swallowed, somewhat afraid, trying to be ingratiating toward the two who had his Object. "There is one way," he said, looking timidly at Argyle, "but you would not want to do it. There is one who knows the way to perfection. He is called the Artificier. The warrior god-king of flesh and bone and steel. If you were to convince him, perhaps he would change you, improve you. But I warn you- it will be the most painful thing you will ever feel. Your screams will tear your throat, and you will beg for death with every breath you draw. Your only solace will be the fact that the Artificier would most certainly grant such a wish. But if you survive, I think that you will have what it is you want." The Holder fell silent, trying to move closer again to Praetorious, making an inarticulate sound, like that of a baby that wants something, but can't quite articulate the words.

Argyle raised a hand and continued to hold the Holder back, for one more question.

"How do I contact him?"

He gazed into his eyes. He wouldn't leave without that much. He didn't care about the risk, or the pain. He had lost part of himself when Bayle died, and nothing could be worse. It didn't matter how much he was tortured. He would become stronger, and not so worthless.

Strong enough to have his revenge.

Praetorious regarded the determination in Argyle's eyes impassively, although inside he was amazed. A glance at the Artificier was enough to tell one that he had tortured himself beyond the limits of sanity to become what he had. And Praetorious had no doubt that he would do worse to someone else. Argyle's resolve was truly staggering. Seeing this as well, the Holder answered his question.

"From what I understand," it said, trying to move toward its Object again, "contacting him involves a sort of sacrifice. One must sever their dominant hand, and mentally offer it to the Artificier. Only then will he hear your call, and perhaps be reasoned with. But I warn you again- you may not like what it is you wish for." The Holder took another step forward. "Now, I have answered your questions, can you..."

Praetorious stepped back again, searching Argyle's face for a reaction. All he saw was a grim determination. He saw a man who had everything taken from him, a man who had had his world upended over the span of a day. He saw a man who was broken, and would do anything to fix himself. Praetorious knew, at this point, that trying to persuade Argyle against bargaining with such a dangerous and powerful creature as the Artificier was futile. There was nothing he could do.

"So," he said to him after a moment, "will that be all?"

"So, will that be all?"

Arygle's mind was racing, and he thought over the consequences. He wasn't afraid, by any means. He would go through anything to assure that he would live to carry out his revenge. However...

"But I warn you again- you may not like what it is you wish for."

When he spoke, it wasn't with fear in his voice, but a steady reason. "One more thing. If I won't like what I wish for, then I don't suppose there's any better way to achieve what I want?"

He would go through anything to become stronger, but if there were multiple options, it was only rational to choose the best one. He may be half-insane and paranoid, but he knew how to look for good deals.

"Better way?" The Holder stammered, although one could hear a note of anger in its voice, "A better way? As if there were 'good' ways to achieve power. Look at me. Look at your companion. Look at all those you wish to equal. Do you really think that they didn't pay dearly for every iota of power they gained?" The Holder was practically livid at this point. "You fool! Power never comes without a price! Power, in the end, is never what you wish for! Power always corrupts, destroys, and ruins! If you believe otherwise, you know nothing!"

The Holder's voice split, becoming more than one voice as it spoke, every one permeated with fury. It seemed to gain power around its Object, its limbs lengthening, the blackness around Praetorious and Argyle darkening even more. "I have answered your questions!" It roared, "you have disrespected me, a Holder, playing me like a weakling! I will have my Object now, and you will meet your end here!"

Its voice became shrill, coming to an almost deafening crescendo. It shook the floors and walls of the room, books falling from the shelves. The Holder's hands became claws, its arms extending as they slashed forward, scoring a gash across Praetorous' face before he could react.

"Now would be a good time to leave!" Praetorious shouted, struggling to be heard over the hideously loud thrumming sound that now permeated the room.

Argyle was already turning and running as the Holder slashed Praetorius, clearing the space to the window and diving forward in five steps.

Damn it... He should have known better. He knew they could only dangle the Object before them for so long before he snapped. He should have known when to cut his losses and go home.

This wasn't like weapons deals. He couldn't play the system like he used to. He couldn't be in control. He was the one who was always being played.

Damn it!

The Holder's claw sliced open Praetorious' upper left arm, clear blood leaking slowly from the wound. His right leg spasmed, and he fell over, crashing into the hard ground as the Holder lunged for him, grabbing at the Object. It was on top of him, and thrust its hand through its chest. Luckily, there was nothing there, and Praetorious rolled, pinning the Holder's arm down. He pistoned his left leg into its chest, and heard a crack as something in the Holder's pinned arm gave way. It howled in anger, pulling its arm back and freeing him for the moment.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Praetorious threw the Pocket Watch as hard as he could at the other side of the room. It hit the wall, small gears and springs flying everywhere as it cracked. The Holder's attention turned to it, thundering toward the Object, muttering something incomprehensible. Praetorious managed to stand, limping to the window. He tried to climb out, but both his arm and leg spasmed at once, causing him to fall gracelessly out of the window and back onto the barren landscape.

Seeing Argyle already running, he tried his best to follow, falling more than once onto the hard gravel of the landscape. He heard the Holder's roar behind him, and knew that they didn't have much time. Praetorious stumbled again, but luckily didn't go down. After some distance, he saw the black fog they had entered the Holder's realm through, still swirling. "Argyle!" Praetorious shouted, pointing at it.

Argyle nodded, continually cursing to himself from the beginning of his sprint, and headed straight for the fog. Praetorius was still stumbling behind him, but he couldn't afford to wait. The roar of the Holder echoed behind them.

He bent his head down as he plunged into the black fog, never once having looked back at the Tower behind them. Everything went completely dark behind him, and the Holder's roar quickly faded away as he ran. Beneath his feet, he felt the floor change.

He burst through the double doors back into Sutter, crashing into the front desk at a full sprint and skidding to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. As he gasped for air, he looked back up at the double doors, waiting for Praetorius to come through.

Praetorious ran as fast as he could, tripping and stumbling incessantly. His damaged nerves always seemed to pick the worst time to act up. The mutated Holder was climbing out of the building's window, roaring again in anger, dark energy seething around it. The black fog was still a hundred or so meters away, and Praetorious couldn't run any faster than he was already.

The Holder shot after him, its arms extended enough that it ran on all fours, closing the distance between them rapidly. It had become even less human by this point, its teeth extending into fangs, its tongue long and pointed. It slavered disgustingly, saliva hanging in strings from its mouth as it ran.

Up ahead, Praetorious saw Argyle entering the mist. He viewed that as both good and bad- Argyle was safe, but how the beast would focus all his attention on him. It roared at him again. He had perhaps fifty meters left. However, the Holder was moving at least twice as fast as he was. He was forty meters away. Twenty. Ten. The distance between then halved. Halved. Halved again.

Leg spasming, Praetorious hit the ground as the Holder leapt through the air, tackling him. The impact caused him to skid, bringing him to the edge of the fog. The Holder's teeth sank into his right arm, and he registered in a detached way the muscle being punctured. Twisting on the ground, he twisted his right leg over its neck, shifting so as to apply his weight downward and pin the beast to the ground. He managed to break the beast's hold, but he was far too light to pinion it to the ground. The Holder threw him off, and he hit the ground hard, taking note of two of his ribs cracking. However, he was now inside of the mist. The beast grabbed his leg in one of its claws, and Praetorious forced himself backward, the mutant Holder's claws scoring gashes down his lower leg.

It pounced again, but this time he was prepared, and the monster's head collided squarely with Praetorious' heel. The beast was thrown back by the reaction force, and Praetorious dragged himself away, feeling the floor change. He got to his feet, and limped as fast as he could.

Without warning, he collided with the double doors of Sutter Center, stumbling through them. He could hear a faint roar from the Holder, but it was silenced as soon as the doors closed. He fell, his right leg giving out, landing a few feet in front of Argyle.

Praetorious looked at the gaping humans in the waiting room, as well as those at the front desk. He managed to pick himself up, limping to the front desk and using it for support.

"Well," he said to Argyle, "that was fun."

Argyle would have smirked if he weren't so upset. His eyes flitted back to where the double doors were, but they had gone as soon as his eyes were off of it. Everyone one else standing around in awe didn't even seem to register a door, as none of them were looking at where it once was.

He grabbed the counter and pulled himself up, taking deep breaths.

"Let's get out of here," he said in a groan, stumbling towards the doors.

Stupid, stupid, stupid... Sacrifice for power... Was it really worth it? He only saw two ways out of his situation. He had lost control of his life and was at the mercy of the monsters and more powerful Seekers. He either had to join them or die. He wondered what he would have to give up in exchange for becoming more powerful.

"You don't have to say that twice", Praetorious remarked, limping toward the door. He shrugged off the stares of the people around him, focusing all of his energy on keeping himself upright. Pushing the door open, he leaned against the building's outside wall, supporting himself. His leg spasmed, but he was ready, and shifted his weight to his left foot. He swayed slightly, but remained vertical. It was a good sign. Perhaps the Holder's realm had been corroding his damaged and exposed brain further.

Argyle exited as well, and they both exchanged looks. That was a close call. If Praetorious were fully functional, he might have been able to take on the beast, but not in the state he was in. And now he had a few more wounds to deal with. He wasn't concerned so much that he was wounded, but rather that he was losing blood. He needed it to make his toxin, and his body didn't produce a lot of it. It was vexing to lose so much. Of course, lacerations wounds like those would heal in a day or so.

He turned to Argyle. "So," said Praetorious, "are you going to do it? The Holder had a point, but I won't stop you if you've made up your mind."

Argyle knew he meant well, but had difficulty keeping the derision out of his voice from the anger. "Do you have a better idea?" He paused shortly. "If I don't do something, I'm going to die. Muramasa, the Artificier, Marnin. I scraped by those by pure luck. And now there's Chael. He wouldn't have any difficulty killing me, but that would probably be true even if I was stronger."

He turned to face Praetorius directly. "With all honesty, if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it. I wouldn't enjoy taking such a risk for this, but death is around every corner. I'm not going to curl up in a corner and hope it goes away.

"I'm sick of not being able to control my life. Ever since Jack showed up, I'm at the mercy of Holders and Objects and Seekers and all other damned things. One way or another I want to be able to decide whether I live or die. I need to find something that will give me that power. You're able to survive bullet wounds to the head, but if that man had been aiming for me, it would have all been over. If I hadn't been picked up off the circus floor, it would have all been over.

"So, you see the way I look at this, but..." He paused again, trying to calm down. His frustration had boiled over, and it wasn't right to take out anger on the one man trying to help him. He took a breath. "You've had more experience at this than me, and I respect your opinion. Given my circumstances... what would you suggest?"

Praetorious' eyes widened slightly at Argyle's outburst. He could understand it, of course- Argyle was in a world he had virtually no control over, a world where beings far more powerful than him held sovereignty. The thing was, Praetorious couldn't empathize. Of course, that didn't mean he begrudged Argyle his anger.

Eventually he calmed down, taking a deep breath. "You've had more experience at this than me, and I respect your opinion. Given my circumstances... what would you suggest?"

Praetorious took a breath himself before answering. "I don't know if you can ever have 'experience' in things like this. To tell you the truth, my 'circumstances' were once the same as yours." He paused for a moment. Sage advice was something he could honestly say he'd never given before.

"Just like you, I had someone taken from me, violently. I wandered for a long time, searching for power, lusting after it, so that I could have my revenge. It corrupted me, destroyed me, left me a slave to the very thing I hated most. And yet, in the end, I ended up exacting revenge. But did I do the right thing? I don't know. I don't know if there's even such a thing as 'right'. Looking at the world around us, I doubt it. The fact is, Argyle, that if you stay human in this world you've irrevocably stepped into, you will die.

"But herein lies the dilemma: the only thing worse than power is power for the sake of more power. If you can honestly say to yourself that you will not lose sight of what you stand for, what it is you believe in, no matter what that may be, then you should do whatever it takes. Stand before the Artificier, and endure his tortures, because you'll be able to withstand them."

Praetorious stopped for a moment. His eyes locked with Argyle's.

"If you can't do that much, then you're better off dead."

"Yeah, I know that. That's why I want to go through with this. I just wanted to know if there was another way. If there's not, then I'll do what I can."

He walked to the car and leaned against it.

"I don't want power for the sake of power, or even as much for the sake of revenge. I just want control. Even revenge is secondary to that. If I keep that in mind, I can keep from being overwhelmed by it. I don't wish to be sound naive, but... I know I won't let the power go to my head. I've lived in a world where I've had to deal with that already on a smaller level. It sound stupid, but I'm more confident of that when I saw that circus girl.

"I can't imagine how that girl can still be so happy when she's a Seeker. She seems even happier than average non-Seekers. At first I thought it was because she's stupid, or actually insane. I still think that, but if someone like her can keep her self maintained so easily, I certainly has hell can.

"And like you said, if I can't, I'm better off dead. That's all there is to it."

His face was set with determination again. Control or death. He would face the Artificier and receive one of those. He wouldn't back down from the test. He opened the door of the vehicle and got in.

"Let's head back. I'll do it when we get back to the mill."

Praetorious nodded silently. He knew he should probably say something, some word of affirmation, but he couldn't think of anything. He had, he noted wryly, probably used up every ounce of eloquence he had in the speech he'd just given. So, instead, Praetorious went with "well, you've got the keys."

He climbed in the passenger seat awkwardly, letting Argyle, who could still control his nervous system properly, take the wheel. The engine coughed and sputtered, eventually coming to life. Praetorious sat back, contemplating. He wondered what he'd set in motion. Or if he even had set it in motion. Argyle couldn't be stopped now, that much he could tell. Whatever the Artificier would throw at him, Argyle would take it, or die trying. Praetorious sighed.

At least cutting off limbs was something within his area of expertise.

The car lurched slightly, before making a U-turn. They headed back to the steel mill, Praetorious thinking silently, contemplating power and weakness, right and wrong.