According to Garbage, Fulk arrived inside Dr. Yves' house shortly after his run-in with St. Giradin's spirit. The moment the spirit faded, Garbage fell out of his trance and led Fulk the rest of the way, hoping Fulk would ignore the saint's advice and murder Dr. Yves in his sleep.

When the candle in Fulk's hand illuminated the first room they entered, he saw a strange bed in the center of the room with leather straps sticking out of it. The straps were loose, but judging by the curve they had been used recently to restrain something. Or someone.

"What is this place?" Fulk whispered.

"The doctor brought a dead man back to life here," said Garbage.

"There's far too much of that going on..." Fulk muttered. He continued on, pressing into the next room. He stepped so lightly that his boots made no sound in contact with the stone floor. Fulk had been a fugitive and a murderer so long he had learned all the tricks of the trade.

"Dr. Yves sleeps in there," Garbage whispered, pointing to a door on the other side of the foyer. "Useless is probably standing guard in his room."

"Useless? Is that a homunculus?"

"No, that's the man he brought back from the dead."

Fulk set down his candle on the mantle over the fireplace and gripped his mace in both hands. "Then I'll have to send him back to Hell."

Fulk approached the door to Dr. Yves' bedroom. Outside, he paused a moment, as if contemplating how he should begin his attack. Did a man who had been brought back from the dead need to sleep? If so, perhaps Fulk could open the door slowly and crack the skulls of both Useless and Dr. Yves before they woke. If not, then opening the door slowly would just give Useless all the time he needed to prepare his counter-attack.

Whatever conclusions or guesses he came to, Fulk decided that kicking the door open and barging in was the best plan.

With a loud crack the wood broke away. In the darkness the silhouette of a man in black rushed at Fulk. The candlelight gleamed off a steel blade.

Fulk swung his mace, knocking the blade away before it could reach his neck, and threw his shoulder into Useless' chest. Ribs cracked from the impact, causing Useless to stumble back.

Useless shoved Fulk away with surprising force, sending him sprawling back onto the fireplace mantle with a hard thud.

The candle fell from the mantle and rolled on the floor, casting light and shadows over the walls in a violent whirlwind.

Crack!

Crack!

Fulk and Useless fought, their weapons clashing together violently.

Fulk threw in a punch or a kick whenever he saw an opening. Though bones cracked and broke with every hit, Useless seemed almost unaffected. As if the man who'd come back from death could no longer feel pain.

Snap!

With one final collision of Fulk's mace upon Useless' blade, the weapon broke in two.

But Fulk's victory was short-lived as Useless seized him by the throat and began to squeeze. The mace fell from Fulk's hands, and all his fingers struggled to pry Useless' grip from his throat.

"That's it!" Dr. Yves shouted from the bedroom. "Crush his windpipe!"

Fulk's face started to turn purple, and his head trembled. He reached out with one hand and grasped Useless' genitals. He closed his fist around them so hard the testicles crushed in his palm, then gave a violent twist.

Useless made no sound. Not so much as a wince from the man who'd come back from the dead.

Fulk dropped to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up.

Garbage had hidden himself in a closet with the door barely open, watching the fight unfold. Though he saw Fulk dying, he did nothing to help him.

"Damn you!" Fulk wheezed, his teeth gritted. He punched Useless in the face over and over, each strike growing weaker and weaker. Soon, they were little better than the slaps of a child throwing a tantrum.

Dr. Yves cackled. "Choke the life out of him! I want to see the light leave his eyes forever!"

Fulk's left hand found the handle of his mace, but he feared he'd be too weak to lift it.

So he picked up the candle instead.

Fulk shoved the candle under the hem of Useless' tunic. The flame caught the dead man ablaze, which caused him to release Fulk's throat.

While Useless flailed about, trying to put out the fire as it engulfed him, Fulk took in long gasps of sweet air and forced himself to his feet.

Dr. Yves was shrieking something indistinct at Useless. The resurrected man stumbled about, the flames from his body reaching out to lick the curtains, catching them ablaze too.

Heat and black smoke filled the room.

Useless' body collapsed on the ground, the flesh melting off his bones and hair burning away.

Through the smoke, Fulk staggered forth and seized Dr. Yves by the throat in one hand.

"Choke the life out of him?" Fulk croaked between gasps. "Don't mind if I do!"

Fulk raised his other hand and grasped Dr. Yves' throat in both hands.

Dr. Yves reached into the sleeve of his sleeping gown and produced a dagger, jabbing Fulk in the gut.

One hand left Dr. Yves' throat and gripped his wrist, slowly forcing him to pull the dagger out of Fulk's bowels. With a violent twist, he forced the mad alchemist to drop the dagger.

Then, Fulk shoved Dr. Yves away, sending him toppling over his bed.

Fulk was staggering. Dizzy from blood loss, air loss, and heat exhaustion. Keeping his head under the smoke, he stumbled toward the front door of Dr. Yves house and threw his shoulder into it, forcing it open for the sake of his freedom.

And he fled, knowing not whether Dr. Yves had lived or died.

A trail of blood followed him for a time, but it stopped just two blocks from Dr. Yves' home.