Alec’s side-real form ripped The Baron’s loa to pieces, and scattered it like leaves into the Æther.

In the real world, The Baron wasn’t faring much better. Alec sank his fangs deep into The Baron’s throat, draining him.

“A little to the left, bastard,” Blake muttered, his 44 aimed, trying to get a clear shot.

Simon cradled Angela. She was coming back around, still groggy, with a bruise forming on her jaw.

Alec shifted, biting down hard. Blake had his opening. He squeezed the trigger…

“Uncle Blake,” Angela shouted, fully alert, “look out!”

Blake’s shot went wide as he was knocked to the ground by Hoven, foaming at the mouth and raving mad. “Verletzen Sie den Meister nicht!” the decrepit Nazi screamed, slashing at Blake with a scalpel.

Simon rushed to Blake’s aid. No time for subtlety, Simon promptly booted the old man in the head, knocking him cold.

There was the recognizable Ch-chak! of a shotgun being pumped. Blake and Simon looked up to see Agent Winters standing over them, 12 gauge in hand…