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Jack slowly came to consciousness. He heard hushed voices. One was the cold but kind voice he had heard before. The other was familiar, almost as if it was his father's. It was the voice of his pastor at the Lutheran Church outside of town.

"Vaness did this to him" Masu told Pastor John Dilire. "I tried to stop her, I tried, but her barriers were too great. I managed to stop her from feeding, but that was it." He seemed downtrodden and furious at himself.

"You did what you could for poor Jack, and that is all that matters." Pastor Dilire sighed. "You do know what this means, though. He has seen creatures of the night, but he is not a holy man. He either must join the darkness, or he must die."

"There must be another way, some way to save him?" Masu pleaded.

"I wish there was, but if he does not become one of them, the Reaper will come for him."

"Very well, I'll wake him up." Masu began to walk over to Jack. By now, Jack had regained his full consciousness. As soon as Masu neared him, Jack opened his eyes wide. He looked up into the face of his rescuer. And screamed bloody murder. For beneath Masu's dark hood was a skull. Not a human skull, but a reptilian skull, bleached white and rubbed smooth, with curved teeth.

Dilire clapped his hands to his ears, shouting, "Stop! Stop!" Finally, Jack's scream wore down to terrified gasps.

In his fright, Jack had taken in every aspect of Masu. The robe he wore was ragged and torn, but seemed to flow over everything including the snagging nails on the floor. His hands were covered in metal gloves, made up of a system of linking pieces, with each finger ending in a curved metal claw. The knuckles of the gloves had spikes about an inch long and a centimeter thick at the base protruding from them. Masu's feet were covered in heavy metal boots that had metal spikes covering the bottom. Everything was black. But the part of Masu that frightened Jack the most was his skull. In the sockets were two black orbs, both emanating shadows like smoke. The skull was covered in a see-through layer of shadow, and in the mouth was the see-through shadow of a tongue. Every inch of the skull showed no hint of the kindness that Jack heard when Masu spoke.

After Jack had finally shut up, Masu looked at Pastor Dilire and said, "Told you."

"Yes, I knew he would be afraid," the old man snapped then turned to Jack. "Jack, it's all right, he won't hurt you. He only wants to help you. Jack, I want you to listen to me, and listen good. You are about to make a life changing decision. Your whole world and the way you look at it is about to change, for better or for worse, I don't know. But one thing is certain: if you don't choose correctly, you will die.' Dilire took a breath to let the morbid news sink in. "Come with me," he said, starting down a corridor that led to the Sanctuary of the church. They entered the large room, with Masu trailing behind. Dilire led them to the altar, where a statue of Christ hanging from the cross sat. Dilire reached behind it and felt around until he found what he was looking for: a chain protruding from the floor. He yanked on it until, with a grudging grating noise, a trapdoor opened in the floor. "Quickly now!" Dilire said, not even stopping to usher in Jack.
The trapdoor led to a stone staircase that wound down into the darkness. Jack followed Dilire obediently into the darkness. After what seemed like hours, they finally came out at the bottom. As soon as he looked up, Jack gasped. They were in a huge underground cavern. In the center of the floor there stood a great stone table. On it sat hundreds of syringes, each filled with its own unique liquid. Dilire took Jack to the table and stood him in front of the needles.

"Now Jack, I want you to choose the needle with the liquid that just says 'Pick me!' to you, understand? None of them will hurt you, but we need to know which one is right for you." Jack silently nodded, too terrified about what was going to happen to say anything. He stared for a long time at the needles, until he grabbed one that was filled with a red liquid and one filled with a gray liquid.

Masu whistled. "Damned if you do, Damned if you don't." He muttered to himself. Jack silently contemplated both syringes, even though his hands were shaking. Slowly, he lowered the gray needle down and handed the red one to Dilire.

"Good, the lesser of two evils is always the best choice." He lifted the needle up to a light and said, "Jack, now is the hour upon which you will be transformed. What I am about to do to you will only harm you once a month. Otherwise, you will be in complete control every night, but will still transform."

Jack trembled. "But Pastor, I'm not quite sure I understand what you're saying."

Dilire was about to say something when Masu cut in. "Jack, we are going to turn you into a werewolf. Believe me, you'll be a lot better off than if you had chosen any other syringe. Besides," he added casually yet kindly when Jack began to shake with uncontrollable fear, "its better than dying, right?" Jack slowly nodded, then rolled up his sleeve and gave Dilire his arm. "Welcome to Hell kid." The moment the needle pierced his skin, Jack lost consciousness for the second time that night.