Episode 99: Collapse

Written By Karl White

Vienna lay quiet beneath a winter sky, the kind of cold that pressed sound flat against the streets and kept most people indoors. Across from the hotel, Larry Halford watched from his position, eyes fixed on the thirteenth floor where Dr. Bellian Vale met with his conclave. He’d been in place for hours, patient, unmoving.

This was it, the end of a pursuit that had stretched across decades. It carried an echo of his final encounter with Ichikawa, a moment that ended not with confrontation, but with a frail man who never quite matched the horror of his work. But this was different, Vale wasn’t evil of mind, but something otherworldly wearing the skin of a man.

Halford checked his watch. No sign of Bhekizizwe. No movement from the surrounding streets beyond the normal rhythm of the city. He’d built his plan assuming support would arrive, and he’d step into the room with an Eternal. But as time stretched and the meeting inside began to break, he understood one way or another, he had to do something.

Larry Halford watching his quarry - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

Those who gathered began to leave in staggered intervals, careful not to appear connected. Each disappearing into waiting cars. As his initial count dwindled, it was now or never. Halford waited just long enough for the street to clear, then crossed without hesitation. 

In the hotel, he moved with purpose through the lobby and toward the stairwell he’d identified as the most viable point of interception. Halford pushed through the door climbing…

When he reached the thirteenth floor, he took a moment catching his breath. The heaviness of the moment settled in. All he carried was a gun. He hoped it would be enough. 

As Larry crept in, Vale stood in the meeting room, and regarded Halford as if the moment had been expected all along...but Larry kept his gun trained on the doctor.

HALFORD: I’ve been looking for you a long time.

VALE: And now you’ve found me. You should consider what that means.

HALFORD: It means you don’t get to hide behind governments or men who don’t understand what they’re protecting.

Silence settled. Then Vale stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Up close, the human illusion held, but something beneath moved subtly, like a reflection that didn’t quite align.

VALE: Now what? You’re here to stop me? 

HALFORD: Something like that.

VALE: The plague is not a weapon, Mr. Halford. It’s a necessary correction. It’s survived empires, been buried in the bones of history, and returned each time stronger than before.

HALFORD: I’ve seen what it does. There’s nothing necessary about it.

With nothing else to say, Vale raised his hand, and the space between them seemed to collapse inward. The edges of his form blurred, and for a moment the shape gave way to something vast and chilling. Halford tried to move, but couldn’t. 

Vale steals his soul - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

There was no violence in what followed. Vale simply placed his hand against Halford’s being. Every muscle in Larry’s body locked, held in place by a force he could neither see, nor resist. His eyes remained open, focused, aware, but whatever was behind them was being drawn away.

Vale withdrew. Halford remained standing a moment, before collapsing heavily onto the marble floor. His body was intact, but his soul was gone. And holding it, Vale faded from this world, returning to whatever Hell he’d come from. 

Minutes later, Bhekizizwe arrived, finding Halford’s body. There was no blood or signs of injury. Behind him, his Slayers fanned out, checking the room, the exits. But there was nothing to find.

Bhekizizwe lowered his head, as another man who’d stood against the roving death was gone. And the hunt for Vale, it seemed, was far from over.

Despite dissolving the DMD in 1982, Win Wheeler never felt safe. The threat he issued to his former friends should’ve been enough, but trust was a liability he could not afford. So, methodically, one by one, he eliminated those who could connect him to what they’d done, using methods that left no trace...poisons, obscure illnesses, quiet endings that raised no suspicion.

Win at a friend’s funeral - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

Still, his ambition remained unchanged. The scale of destruction he envisioned could only be achieved alone. After high school he enrolled in college and moved into the guesthouse on his parent’s property rebuilding his lab from what little he’d preserved. The single remaining vial of the Crimson Virus became the foundation for what followed. He cultivated it carefully, expanding his supply, and alongside it, raised pigeons, tracking their range, and reliability. Prepping to use them as the vehicle to spread the plague. But questions remained with the reliability of the specimen, so a test was necessary.  

In 1984, accompanying his father Stanton, to Los Angeles under the pretense of visiting medical schools, Win saw opportunity. The city was hosting a summit on communicable disease, drawing officials and diplomats from across the world. It was a convergence point, dense with influence. While his father attended meetings, Win moved quietly through the hotel, releasing the virus in controlled points throughout the building. Within hours, the outbreak began. Panic spread through the upper floors as guests fell ill and turned into zombies, the violence erupting faster than anyone could comprehend.

Security forces contained it quickly, sealing the building and evacuating survivors under strict quarantine. The explanation was kept simple, a precautionary evacuation because of a gas leak. The story never reached beyond that. But inside, the damage had already been done. Dozens were dead, and the cause was unmistakable.

Dr. Zhou looks for clues - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

When Dr. Mei Lin Zhou arrived, she recognized the pattern. Tests proved the strain matched what she’d seen in Seattle. This was the same hand, reaching further. The investigation narrowed quickly, focusing on those in attendance with ties to the Pacific Northwest. Among those questioned was Senator Wheeler and his son. Both were cleared. There was nothing to suggest otherwise. 

Returning home, Win slipped back into routine. He concentrated on his doctorate at the University of Washington, studying epidemiology. His academics providing cover, helping him refine his personal work.

By the spring of 1988, everything was ready. The pigeons had proven viable. The virus had stabilized. The plan was no longer theoretical, it was scalable. But before Win could unleash hell…everything unraveled.

With his father in DC, Win’s mother, Sharon, was preparing for his graduation. Wanting to surprise him, she and a neighbor, Mrs. Beck, entered the guesthouse while Win was in class, searching for his address book to build a guest list. His home lab was organized, precise, but not secured against someone who didn’t know what they were looking at. In the process of searching, Sharon knocked over a canister containing an active sample of the virus. They cleaned it quickly, unaware that it had already spread.

Feeling unwell, Mrs. Beck returned home. Under the weather, Sharon also laid down on the couch, assuming it would pass. Within the hour, the change began. By the time Win returned home, the house was dark and silent. He found his mother, no longer herself, driven by the same violent instinct he’d cultivated, and unleashed on others.

Seeing what she was, he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t. He killed her where she stood, the act immediate and necessary. But it did nothing to steady what followed. There was no one to call, no version of the truth that wouldn’t destroy him. So he tried to erase the problem, setting the house on fire.

He was unaware Mrs. Beck had turned next door. Her son, alarmed by her condition, called for help. When EMT’s arrived, they could tell something was very wrong. At the same time, fire crews were dispatched to the Wheeler estate. The two incidents converged within minutes, drawing law enforcement into a situation that escalated quickly.

Caught in the act - © 2026 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC

Police came upon the scene to find Win destroying evidence. He was taken into custody before he could finish. From there, it unraveled further. Mrs. Beck’s condition triggered escalation protocols, bringing in Federal health officials. The same markers Mei Lin had been tracking surfaced again, but this time, they led somewhere concrete -- Win Wheeler. 

And when the full scope of what he’d done, and what he’d planned, came into view, it uncovered something far more unsettling than a single crime. It revealed how close he’d come to succeeding. 

TO BE CONTINUED…