A stone basin of holy water toppled to the ground. Terrified clergy members ran left and right as the village church was razed. The dark priest Zead watched contently as his skeletal helpers carried out their brutal campaign, occasionally pointing or waving his arm to direct them to a new victim. His sinister delight was only interrupted when he felt a set of slender fingers chop across his shoulder. The strike was weak, probably delivered by some foolish mage who had convinced themself they were a fighter. After only suffering from some slight annoyance, Zead narrowed his eyes and casually turned his bald head to the source of the attack. When his eyes focused on the remarkably brave (or incredibly stupid) individual who had lashed out at him, his smile then quickly returned. He had found his true target.

Angela glared toward Zead with an unusually stern expression, holding her ground with some sort of amateur martial arts stance. She was a blonde-haired young woman, somewhere in her late teens or early 20's, and her attire stood out from that of the other church workers. Whereas her associates were adorned in full cloaks and various religious regalia, Angela's outfit was noticeably more revealing. The short white and blue dress left much of her legs, midriff, cleavage, and arms uncovered, and the draping sleeves and sash she wore conveyed her role as a ceremonial dancer. This clothing still held a certain refined look, however, and was accented by a gold trim. It gave her an appropriate angelic look.

Zead wasn't threatened by his opponent's bravery in the slightest. He snapped his arm forward to remove the crucifix that hung from the dancer's neck, then carelessly tossed the trinket away. As Angela gasped at his inhuman cunning, his opposite hand lunged forward to take a hold of the fabric choker adorning her neck. With his icy fingers wrapped around her throat, he easily lifted her into the air. His arm ceased moving upward when the toes of her long white boots began dangling and hopelessly reaching for the floor.

Zead chuckled softly before speaking to his new captive.

"So, you're that pesky girl who's been helping the Belmont."

Both of Angela's hands had locked around the dark minion's forearm by now, pulling and clawing as she attempted to free herself. Her determined expression briefly turned to fright when Zead dropped his human disguise. For barely a second, his grinning face transformed into an empty skull, revealing the priest's true form of Death incarnate. Angela quickly regained her composure, however, and questioned her enemy through grit teeth.

"What of it, you monster?"

Zead's mischievous smirk grew wider when he replied.

"The master requests your presence."

Before Angela had a chance to question him further, he abruptly tightened his grip around her throat. He called back his army after his prey slipped into unconsciousness and went limp in his grasp.

Angela slowly began to stir before her eyelids fluttered open. She was now in a dimly-lit dungeon, undoubtedly somewhere in the depths of Count Dracula's castle. Her arms wear bound in chains over her head by the wrists, keeping her standing against the prison wall. When she turned her head from side to side to scan her surroundings, she quickly realized she wasn't alone. A solitary nun stood just to her left in the same position as herself, having been captured in the same raid. The young woman was around her age and clearly frightened, but relief glowed on her face when her eyes met Angela's. She spoke in a relatively joyful tone.

"Angela, you're awake?"

Her positive character quickly faded, however, and she stared toward the floor as she mumbled her next words.

"They're going to kill both of us..."

Angela tugged her arms against her chains to test their strength. Although it was a futile effort, she replied to the other prisoner with a cheery demeanor. She had little doubt the two women would be rescued soon enough.

"They won't get the chance. Trevor will save us."

As soon as the confident dancer finished speaking, the deep, sultry laughter of a third female echoed off the dungeon walls. The haunting voice taunted the two confused captives.

"Do you really think so? He doesn't even know you're here."

Before either Angela or the nun could discern the location of the speaker, a curvaceous figure materialized directly in front of them. It was a winged succubus, wearing nothing but a black corset around her waist and a few flowers in her crimson hair. She continued speaking to her two shocked guests as a coy smirk crossed her lips.

"Don't worry, girls. Dracula has special plans for both of you."

As the captives remained in baffled silence, the demoness stepped forward and reached for Angela's bindings. The lock just above Angela's wrists gave away at the succubus's touch, allowing the cleric to freely (but cautiously) step away from the wall. The succubus then placed her arms forward, and a folded set of clothes appeared in her hands. The outfit was composed of burgundy-colored leather and light armor, probably designed for a thief or assassin. On top of this collection rested a brooch. It was a simple purple jewel with a silver frame, and the demoness spent a substantial amount of time giggling as she gently stroked the tips of her fingers across it. Finally, she turned her attention to Angela and coldly spoke to the captured magician.

"Put these on. He had them made just for you."

Angela was clearly offended by the strange command. Her hands began glowing with a small, white aura of holy power as she responded angrily.

"Are you kidding? Why should I listen to you?"

Her lewd enemy seemed tickled by her rebelliousness. She shifted the bundle she was carrying to one arm, then casually approached the still bound nun and moved her free hand to the captive's neck. She smirked as the sharp black fingernail of her index finger grazed the terrified girl's throat, nearly cutting into the flesh along the way.

"If you don't, maybe I'll make your friend's worst fears come true."

When Angela gasped at this threat, the spell she had been conjuring dissipated from her hands. Her confidence faded and her voice lowered as she submitted. Her comrade's well-being was more important to her than her own dignity.

"Fine. Give them to me."

The succubus nodded in satisfaction. The metallic components of the rogue costume clinked softly in her arms as she offered it to its new owner. Angela took the "gift" with uneasy arms as the villainess teased her.

"Don't worry. That outfit will cover you up more than what I'm wearing."

The red-haired demoness shrugged before she continued.

"Not by much, I suppose, but enough for you keep at least some of your modesty."

She then moved to the attention to the remaining prisoner, and spoke with a playful smile.

"You can watch, if you'd like."

The young clergywoman only responded by shamefully turning her head away as Angela placed the stack on the ground and began reluctantly disrobing.

Angela remained in the same powerless state when she allowed the succubus to chain her wrists back to the wall. She was now clad in what she could only think of as a slave girl's repertoire. The jewel brooch rested on the center of an armored collar around her neck. A leather cuirass covered the front of her torso, held in place by a series of narrow belts that wrapped around her back. Her pants were made of the same material, albeit in a mesh design that didn't leave much between her bottom and the freezing stone of the dungeon wall. Her feet were clad in high heeled boots made of a rust-colored armor. Long, purple ribbons hung from her belt, resembling the white sash of her previous attire. Small, spring-loaded bracelets kept a pair of folding daggers stored at her forearms, but she couldn't discern how the mechanism for the weapons worked. The suit was uncomfortable and felt degrading, and she still didn't even know why she had been forced to wear it.

Angela questioned her captor as she struggled to regain a more positive complexion. The nun was still held in place at her side, just as uncertain of her own fate.

"Wha-... what is the meaning of all of this?"

The succubus was facing away from the two prisoners, and focused on disposing of the clothes Angela had arrived in. She extended one hand to the floor of the prison, and a tiny fireball flew from her palm and incinerated the pile of white and blue cloth in seconds. She watched the ugly uniform burn to ash in amusement when she replied.

"Isn't it obvious? You're Lord Dracula's property, now."

Angela lowered her head to sulk, now having her suspicions confirmed. The succubus only smiled again when the small bonfire died down and her gaze turned to her defeated rival.

"I'm a bit jealous, to be honest, but I guess I shouldn't worry too much."

She approached Angela and leaned toward her face before speaking again. The enslaved dancer could see a hint of envy in the lustful creature's eyes.

"You probably won't even last that long with what he has in store for you. You're still only a human, regardless of how great your magical power is."

Angela had reached her limit. Her pent up anger and disgust gave her a new spark of energy, causing her to yank against her chain bindings in another attempt to lash out at her delighted enemy. She stopped only when a new, distinctly male voice boomed from the ceiling of the prison.

"Enough!"

The succubus sighed and shook her head in disappointment as she backed away, putting ample space between herself and Angela before she disappeared from the room. In the spot where she had been standing appeared the Dark Lord himself, Count Dracula. He briefly studied Angela's surprised form in silence, then lifted his right hand and calmly snapped his fingers.

Angela's brooch burst to life with an ominous magenta glow. Horror quickly filled her face, and she seemed to struggle against some unseen force. Her complaints gradually subsided, however, and she closed her eyes as her golden hair strangely changed to a platinum color. At the same time, lines of mysterious runes appeared across her bare arms, marking her skin like cursed tattoos. They seemed to be a manifestation of the girl's inherent power, only in a much more sinister form. When her eyes opened again, her irises began glowing in deep red and she studied her surroundings with a vacant expression. In addition to her physical changes, she no longer seemed to be her usual friendly self.

In a display of augmented strength, the new slave broke the chains that held her to the wall and separated her arms. After taking a few steps forward, she opened her hands and somehow willed her wrist-mounted blades to flip forward. She turned to the nun, who had been watching these events in a combination of fear and amazement, and cut away the fellow prisoner's chains with a single slash from her right arm. The nun shook her sore wrists for a few seconds while she glanced toward Angela, then stepped forward to grasp her shoulders. She could see her comrade was somehow being controlled by the count, and she desperately tried to bring the spellbound girl back to her senses.

"Come on, Angela! Get a hold of yourself! We can escape now!"

Angela's stoic expression never changed. Her glowing eyes only narrowed slightly when she heard Dracula speak in an annoyed tone.

"Angela, quiet your friend. Her screeching bothers me."

Angela instantly reacted by slamming one of her armored knees into the nun's gut. The young woman quickly toppled to all fours with a harsh grunt, leaving herself prone as she placed her hands over her abdomen. The Dark Prince grinned contently before he commanded his new minion again.

"Now, send her soul to the God she cherishes so much."

Unlike before, this order brought conflicted emotions to Angela's mind. After she turned away in despair for a brief moment, the crystal in her brooch increased its luminance and seemed to quell any objections she held. When her eyes returned to the helpless cleric, her lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

"As you command, my lord."

Using her existing agility in tandem with her newfound power, Angela lept straight into the air. She somersaulted as she begun her descent, outstretching one of her arms along the way to perform an elegant crescent slash. When she landed on the prison floor in a kneeling position, the silver blade cleaved the nun's head clean from her shoulders. Angela then returned to her feet, unhindered by the fresh corpse now staining the stone floor. Her weapons returned to their idle positions on her forearms when she turned her attention to Dracula.

Dracula was thoroughly pleased by his servant's actions. The recruit had proven her loyalty, and now she would be the perfect psychological weapon against his greatest enemy. He questioned Angela in a courteous manner.

"My dear maiden, do you know why you were brought here?"

Angela's red eyes blinked as she replied in the cold manner that had become her norm.

"To guard your throne and allow darkness to consume this world."

Her master nodded before questioning her again.

"Very good, and how do you plan to accomplish this?"

Angela responded without hesitation, in a slightly lower voice than before.

"I'll kill the Belmont."

Dracula grinned in delight at this response. He then commanded his bodyguard with a more stern way.

"Thank you, Angela. You can take your post."

Angela lowered her head in respect.

"Yes, master."

Dracula faded into the air, leaving his servant alone in her cell. Angela cast an emotionless glance toward the body of the executed nun, then left the dungeon and began an uneventful walk toward the castle's throne room.