Arc 3 - Chapter 38: Train Holdout II

Benn lit up the barrel.

Pushing his bones to rattle, each bullet that escaped was sent into the growing night. As he did this, Betty dashed toward the train, and took cover underneath it. Having herself hole up in the tracks, not a single bullet had scratched her.

Ceasing his firing, he didn’t run.

‘She has to step out some time.’

Having the same form as Benn, Hope had the barrel pointed at Betty’s position. The two waiting, they felt the humidity begin to dampen their clothes.

Two seconds, four seconds, they continued to wait. Feeling like they were waiting for a call or a voice, they didn’t allow anything to disrupt their attention. One two, one two, one two, one two. Like a clock ticking in their ears, Benn tried to counter it by clicking his tongue. Keeping his lips sealed, he could’ve stepped forward, but the cost and risk would be—

He saw black.

‘Huh.’

Moving his barrel, along with his body, he tried to pertain the reality that turned abysmal. Trying to see trees, grass, anything that whispered real…

“Benn! My eyes there…”

“Get close!”

Hearing her voice, Benn had his shoulder leaned right next to Hope’s. Waving their barrels in each direction, they held their breath, while the wind slowed to a complete crawl.

But he perked his nose.

Taking the scent of cigarettes and whiskey, his nose trailed the unholy stench in back of him. Moving his body, and his gun toward the direction, it wasn’t long before he pulled the trigger.

‘I could track her with my nose. She smells like the epitome of regular trash.’

His nose followed the scent, as it moved and swerved. Because of the slight delay, his accuracy decreased drastically. But because she was dodging bullets, lead that tried to strike her, she just had to be fast.

Continuing to feel his body shake, he felt Hope wrap her arms around his.

‘But Hope is right near me. I can’t let her be open. The risk is too high.’

Once he emptied out the chamber, he pulled the trigger, and he heard an empty click ring his ears. Grounding down on all of his teeth, he dropped his machine gun, and then did the one thing he could do…

Pushing Hope away, she tried to grab him, but she caught empty air. Almost tumbling forward, she was alone, alone with black vision.

“Benn! Benn, where are you going!?”

“Run away from my voice! Whatever you do, don’t get—”

The smell enhanced.

His hair rising like porcupine needles, a dribble of sweat ran down his temple. Turning his head around, he raised both of his forearms, and protected his face. Once he felt small pops, it was like tiny fragments of metal had lodged into his skin.

But he knew the pain, knew it all well.

“Try to sniff me out sharky!”

Jumping back, he slid through the ground that was rustled with grass. As he closed to a stop, he felt another stab, another jab of knuckles that crashed into his arms.

The more he slid, and the more he leaped, that smell worsened. And the more he tried to escape, his body welcomed more rigid strikes. Clenching down on his teeth, straining his gums and his tongue dry, he growled through a trembling throat.

‘How much longer can I keep this up…’

His body all bulky, his own weight failed to get him out of the spotlight. Sliding through the grass once more, he bit down on his cheeks, and iron drew out from them.

Tasting his own blood, a sudden strike to his forearms crunched his ears. All ugly, all filled with bitterness, sweat molded from his forehead down his chin. His shoulders and wrists turning to jello, his breathing began to turn rampant.

‘How much… can I…’

Air escaped from his mouth.

Even when his nose tracked her down, he was pushed back with so much force. So much weight. Extending out his arms and legs, he felt his body tilt back, before crashing into the ground.

Hitting the back of his head, a low yell groaned from his throat. And that wasn’t the end of it.

Struggling to take in air, nothing could marinate his lungs that were robbed off of it. His arms and legs spread out, sprawled, he tried to take a single breath… before his whole throat was pressed against.

“Gah!”

Unable to jitter, or even groan, he balled both of his hands but couldn’t raise them. Saliva dribbling from his mouth, the darkness that he could only see worsened his fear.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Sharky.”

His nose grew cold, followed by his smell dimming with each second. Unable to take in anything, no scent or stench gave off.

Hearing only his beating heart, all of his soul rode on him getting up. If he could just push, just push her away… why couldn’t he?

“We don’t take kindly to scum.”

His heart dimmed, and his convulsions worsened. Two four, two four, two four, two four. Five ten, five ten, five—

Air finally returned to him.

Taking a big breath in, he heard a plop, but his focus was on the oxygen that he lost. Slow and steadily, each gasp for air swelled his body in some form of satisfaction. Raising his right hand up to his chest, it was uncurled…

Night grazing his eyes, and the grass trickling his pants, tears welled in his eyes. Glancing to his left, he saw a woman laying on the grass, completely unconscious.

“Save you just in time.”

In back of the sprawled Betty, was a ginger-haired elf with green eyes. Wearing the same attire as him, and everyone else in the group, he had his Thompson tucked in his holster.

Hope being free from Betty’s curse, she blinked, and noticed she stood right in front of the van. Turning to her right, Chrisitan and his siblings had already finished their battle. While they ran toward her, Benn got up with only his hind legs.

His hands and arms wobbled like jello, it was clear that his bones shattered. But Sean didn’t care.

“Come on. Let’s try to hit that treasure. It should be—”

“Stop.”

His voice was like venom.

A single dribble of sweat swept from his temple, and he had no choice but to turn around. Pushing his eyes on Benn, his whole attention was directed on him.

“The van’s that way.”

The wind picked up once again, and Sean’s hair ruffled against his forehead and temples. His eyes struggling to keep hold on Benn’s face, he crunched his cheeks, before balling both of his hands.

“Not you too…”

________________________________________________________________________

Luke, Luna, and Miles huddled together like a pair of sardines. Being the smart one of the trio, the two strongest fighters stared at Luke.

“Got a plan Luke!?” Yelled Miles.

“I threw my last bottle of nitroglycerin. The rest should be in the van!”

“Who cares about those! How are we getting out of this shithole!” Yelled Luna.

Luke couldn’t take a peek, as the gunshots acted like a barrier. Squinting his eyes at the floor, the grip on his uzis tightened the more he thought.

Seeing bits of lead dribble on the floor, some of them nestled near their boots. Glancing at one of them, he stared at his own reflection, while mesmerizing what he could do. So much he could do, but with so little time—

He clicked his tongue.

“I think I have something.”

“And?! What is it!?”

Pushing his right uzi into his holster, he moved his hand into his pocket. Feeling his knuckles graze the leather, it wasn’t long before he pulled out a metal canister. The two of them staring at it, the two made deadpan eyes.

“That’s it!? That’s your plan!?”

“Miles. You charge headfirst toward Doug. Me and Luna will do what we can with the guards.”

“Roger.”

“Scoffs, fine!”

With a flick of his thumb, the pin was released. Throwing it a few feet away, the three awaited for the smoke to rise.

But instead of a slow burn, the gray fog bursted free. Devouring half of the train cart in zero visibility, the guards thought they were safe. If they were trying to run in the fog, they had the upper ground.

Once they rested their—

“Gah!”

Two guards toppled down, and then four.

Ambushing them, the barrels of Luke’s uzis roared through the air. Taking aim at the guards, he sprayed and paid with precision and skill. Moving with no limitations, the only thing he had to worry about was his luck failing him.

The guards taking aim, some of them…

“Catch me!”

Taking out a handful of guards, with just her fists, blood drenched her knuckles once more. Creating her own fighting ring, all of the guards moved their barrels toward the tanned woman.

Unleashing lead, it wasn’t like last time. They were focused, and their barrels were aligned with her body. But unlike last time, she had someone right next to her.

—Here…

Pulling the trigger of both his uzis, he ran with throbbing arms. Most of the lead striking the guards, they were stunned, unguarded with no resilience to them. Taking position near the crates, his instinct roared at him, as many bullets ricocheted from the metal.

So quick, so swift, he clocked in the magazine and ran again. Spraying his uzis, the bullets that tried to strike him only grazed his boots, while Luna popped in and out like a magician’s rabbit. Doug’s guards keeping watch on both fronts, he growled as the more of them plopped.

“They’re just kids! Take em down already!”

He felt his back hairs rise.

Moving the barrel nearly instantly, he turned toward the fog of smoke. He saw a blur, one that was cremated in lines of black. The motion shape-shifting, his mind treated it like a crack in reality. But before he could even shoot, his instinct screamed at him to jump.

“Gwah!”

Because he was chubby, he didn’t have that motion to his body. Barely able to slide through the ground, his boots squeaked against the metal, while he tried to aim the—

He pulled the trigger.

But like he was swatting a group of flies, the charging man deflected it with his right shield. Having it cover his wrist and hand, the buckshot bullets traveled toward the clouds.

‘Sweat heavens…’

Unwilling to indulge in such fear, he began walking back while throwing a fist. Seeing flickering blue with his very eyes, Doug arched his head back, and narrowly avoided the sudden attack. Feeling his nose be scraped against, he tried to pin the barrel, but—

When he pulled the trigger, it was already too late. Using his left wrist, his other shield shot out like some garage door spring.

By the time the buckshot fired, the miniscule bullets scattered into the horizon. With nothing to defend himself with, Miles immediately threw a spring-like punch toward his face.

He heard a snap.

“You think you’re the big brother of us!?”

Doug still stood, leaving Miles no other choice but to throw more of his strength.

Each time his shield thrusted to his body, another crack reverbed his ears. Every thrust of his arms, every bulge to his shoulders, he felt it strangle what bulky muscles he held. And as he connected those punches, he glared forth with strained eyes.

—Miles is really going at it…

Luke glanced at where Miles was, while taking cover beneath a small height of metal. Having a grip on both of his uzis, he felt a dribble of sweat run down his temple.

—But Doug had it coming. It’s clear that he has it out for us.

Moving out of cover, he pinned his barrels at the guards once more. Sprinting toward cover at the same time, he fired, the metal of his uzis ricocheting and rumbling his bones.

No lead to strike his body, he was guaranteed safe. Even when he heard the bullets whistle, even when he felt the heat from the lead, he held his breath. And upon placing his back against the cover, he kept his body still.

“Come out and fight like a man! Damn weasel!”

“Wish granted.”

Those two guards, those same ones that kept Luke held down, gasped air through their mouths. With crackled lips, they quickly toppled to the floor, crashing chest first on the metal.

Vanishing into thin air once more, the guards could barely keep their eyes on her. Poofing out and in, or to the sides or near walls, whatever they least expect it… she’ll pop out. And she’ll bring in hell.

“How can such a woman—”

That same guard flew back a couple of feet.

Each thrust of her fist, and with Luke’s support, the two created a trap. The two being in sync, any guard who was in between the two of them meant certain unconsciousness.

Meanwhile…

Sending an uppercut to his chin, Miles’s shield chipped whatever bones Doug had.

Crashing onto his back, Doug breathed through an open jaw. Dislocated from the rest of his face, he tried to intake air through widened nostrils. Raising his hands up to his face, blood swept down his neck.

“S-Stop… n-no more…”

“So you do feel fear. Then that makes it easier.”

Pulling back both of his shields, the light from them faded. Having his right hand on his holster, he took out his sawed-off, and aimed the barrel right at his face.

Making Doug crawl to the edge of the train, his breathing intensified the more he upchucked. In and out, his throat throttled in so much dryness, it was like it was stuffed in sand.

“Now hold on. If I blow out your brains, then you’d just regenerate them.”

“W-What are you…”

Moving the barrel toward his chest, he had his arm and shoulder aligned perfectly. In such a vivid motion, he took aim with only one eye, his precision perfectly suited for this very moment.

Doug widened his eyes instantly, his words choking on his own breath. Moving his hands toward the ground, he grappled the metal with chubby fingers, while looking deadset into…

Miles’s darkened eyes.

“To tend a corrupted heart, you have to know what it looks like, right?”

Before he could even give Doug to—

—A gunshot grazed the air.—