Everything had been set into motion. The potion was brewing, the mechanisms in motion that would see his master back to his own body. Samael had even convinced Downing and Calloway that there was need for a test, a simple subject of no consequence to ensure the process would work. After all, he had argued, should it fail, they didn't want to lose yet another part of an already septated Dark Lord to a botched attempt. He had a specimen which would work, he argued, and should that work, they would have another of the potion brewed in tandem so they could immediately see to the rise of the Dark Lord into his former glory. They could do with the other as they so chose. Only, they had no idea what or whom it was he had chosen. They had no idea that there would be no discarding of the other whether they so wished it or not.
Samael had, of course, spent many evenings studying over Downing's work, researching both the potion ingredients and their known interactions with others and the potion itself. It was dark magic, something rarely attempted, but followed to the T with no mistakes, it seemed sound and proven. The man who had created it had looked for a way to bring back his deceased lover, and there had been reports of sightings following his suspected attempt. Whether it was true or not, Samael could not 100% determine. It could be absolute hogwash, but the lengths Downing described having had to go through to attain the manuscript provided him with doubt. Someone had given it enough stock to collect it and possibly to hide it over the years. There had been tales of its disappearance at some point in history.
The night had arrived to bring his master back, but he had one last thing to draw. The time taking care to hide Captain Markus von Wolfram and even moving him in some instances when his pesky lover and former partner or even a pesky Nosferatu had found their noses a little too close for comfort had paid off. His hard work had paid off, and tonight? Tonight, he would be reunited. The fools were unlikely to recognize his master in his full glory. The only pictures of him were mangled and kept secret from the public eye. He had been referred to as a mere murderous "vampire," but he was so much more. And together, they would prove to the world that there was no escape.
"It's a fine night, isn't it, Captain?" Samael said as he set foot into the dank room he had Markus strung up in. His hands were clasped behind his back and his face cordial. A thin stream of moonlight came in through the small, rectangular window near the ceiling. The moon was very nearly in its full glory. A dangerous time to revive his master, yet he had no doubt he could hide him away the night of the full moon and keep him safe from those who might wish him ill until he was well enough to exact revenge upon the wolf who had killed him.
"At least, it is for me. A night for rejoicing, you might even say." He grinned a fanged grin as he stepped into the stream of moonlight, his face half-occluded by shadow. "It might yet be for you, too, Captain, believe it or not. If you play your cards right, you might find yourself free to return to the arms of your lover." The captain was a sight to behold. He may have healed him of the wounds from the muggle weaponry, but he hadn't bothered since. He'd found keeping him weakened and tired to be a better strategy than allowing him his full strength. They'd spent many a night together, Samael doing everything he could to break the once-strong man, the man he'd once admired and fancied to be like once his training had completed. Now, he pitied him at best, despised him at worst. Or perhaps the indifference that he found seeping in would be considered worse. Samael wasn't certain these days.