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Mark would be waiting for a suitable form of repayment because while he could not remember who Kostya even was again, he did remember that some Russian guy owed him, which was either Kostya or the guy who occasionally appeared in his room, the other Russian now-in-a-wheelchair guy.

Somewhere in a galaxy far, far away from Mark's current free time was a Death lead most likely waiting on the other side, probably frowning or glaring laser beams right through the door, or both, it was disputable.

"The door is ******** open. Use your goddamn hands and open the ******** door yourself."

Also, he was in a slightly more terrible mood than usual.

The Death lead was in his office doing Death lead-y things which was probably things like staring at walls angrily, or polishing his artifacts, or going to a booth to look find free hair product samples only to send people to the Sahara angrily to check their privileges, or a combination of all of the above. As soon as Kostya entered it would reveal he actually just pulling out a sword from the wall, for some reason. Just. Maybe he was having artifact compensation issues.

He paused for a second, just long enough to place the sword back on the table as he searched around his desk, pulling open a few drawers - and about several ones that seemed physically impossible to fit in such a desk. "And."

Halfway pulling out an even longer sword artifact and comparing the two, the Death lead paused. Hopefully his Death lead-y training didn't actually extend to dual wielding uneven sized artifact swords as this was a path that could end badly for one person in the room, the one that wasn't a communist.

"I will judge your loyalty," a sneer, "along with your other skills. This isn't a ******** division that takes on useless baggage. You will have to earn your right to be and stay in this division."

Caelius finally stopped fiddling with the two artifacts long enough to stick both of them at roughly three feet opposite from each other just jutting off the floor. They didn't seem to have any reaction, and the Death lead sat back down, apparently inadvertedly trying to recreate the poster from Game of Thrones. "I will however, give you the limited semblance of choice. You are allowed to contact any two Hunters to accompany you. You are allowed to choose internal or external for your mission type, whatever you consider suitable for your acclaimed assets. And when you are ready, we will begin your division transfer mission. You have five minutes."

His attention returned back to the two swords that were unsurprisingly, not doing anything.

Mission. Okay. Caelius? No, no, no, no.

His steps quashed that small part of his mind that still held onto hope, however, as he hurried to meet Konstantin. The hallway leading to the Death offices was becoming far too familiar, but Shiloh did not dawdle, stepping in behind Kostya in record time, like the good little dog he was hoping to prove he was.

Shiloh was even panting a little, before he straightened up and smoothed the wrinkles from his coat. He smiled a little at Kostya, nodding his head in greeting. When his attention turned to Caelius, the smile faded, cut away by the sight of the Death lead handling sharp and lethal objects. The hole in the wall too was curious, but Shiloh thought better than to ask and instead imparted the same simple greeting to the Death lead.

"Konstantin. Sir."

If the Death lead was a proverbial npc in an online game community, his respect points would most likely be gained by only the most tactical, dedicated, and suicidal players. Or just ones that spend thousands of dollars trying to reset their points or buy points because nobody would honestly try to aim for something that pointless or futile. Unfortunately, since his reputation could not be bought with money (unlike his assistant), Kostya would have to settle with his expression turning from neutral to what was notably an angry and growing angrier tick of the Death leads's eyebrows at the former Moon trainee's choice in buddies. While he thought of Otto as mostly garbage, it was absolutely no surprise to anyone (and hopefully not the former Life trainee either) how much he disliked Shiloh. It was probably the rubber ducky boots. It was probably the rubber ducky boots and Shiloh's shortlived attempt at insubordination and playing a hero. Thankfully, as Shiloh hadn't actually stood on a table and publicly declared an open coup d'etat against his leads, Shiloh was, thankfully, at least a tier in above Melvin in Caelius's personal record of ranking people from worthless to most worthless.

The folder the Death lead had been holding however, was suddenly switched as the other two entered the scene. "There is a notable difference," he began, all lecture mode, "Between being confident and actually being capable. This takes up my time as I have to actually think of what I could possibly occupy you with that is actually ******** beneficial to me in any shape or form without you ******** up. At this point the only ******** thing you could actually provide of use would be to dig your own ******** graves-"

- Mark made a face here-

- "But fortunately, there are somehow others even less capable than you. They can dig your graves-" this was a joke wasn't it? It was hard to tell since Caelius had a sense of humour bordering from non existent to Rep's ability to see past his own ego - "while you complete their job. You will take their assigned portal location at the Lighthouse portal and retrieve one ******** artifact. Do not ******** touch it. If I so much as see a ******** fingerprint on it, failing your division transfer mission will be the last thing you will even so much as think of worrying about." That sentence would have made more sense and had been more threatening if it wasn't sort of confusing. Did Caelius mean the thinking about the mission part or the thinking about worrying, and how did exactly one think about making sense about the-

-"Are there any questions." He made it sound like he really did not want any questions.

Kostya resisted the urge to shrink back at the obvious disapproval, and his pesky urge to please started to burn brightly within him. If he failed the Death lead now, it would mean that his entry entry into the division would be out of his reach.

That was an unacceptable outcome.

"Yes sir," Kostya replied, nodding in acknowledgement to both Otto and Shiloh, who had fortunately shown up. "No questions, sir. Vill go now, sir."

And then, with the few scraps of dignity he had left, Kostya beckoned to his partners and scurried off to the lighthouse.

"Thank you," he said to them, as soon as Cael's office was far behind them and hopefully out of earshot, "thank you. Only vent to request into Death, and poof, he demand mission right now, am being. So sorry. Thank you. Vill make up to all."

Kostya entered the lighthouse, staring at the portal ahead of them, wondering if there was equipment for him to take, or...

A Lighthouse sentry noncommittally pointed to the portal the second Kostya and co headed over, most likely having gotten some variation of their plight a little earlier.

One quick portal ushering - sans any form of supplies later - and they were at some sort of dark opening. It was rather beautiful, mission or not. Most of the area was dim, covered in dank wooden boards and crumbling stone covered with layers of thick moss and blooming foliage. An old rusted sundial lay in the center rather peacefully. The sun filtered in from a large opening on the rafters, giving the old church a strange, incandescent look. Perhaps this was as close as they would ever get to the infamous angel division.

There was however, no mistaking the long bloodstain that trailed approximately from where Kostya had arrived at, across the floorboards, and then to the one ill lit part of the church. A staircase, leading downwards.