Arc 3 - Chapter 61: GRIT II

(Gertsmonath 16, 52 / 10:01PM)

14 years ago…

“Need company mister?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m a married man.”

The city of Lagefor bustled in the dark. Lights radiating the endless streets, and along the sidewalks, only the alleys were riddled in darkness. Some citizens smoked, some gambled, while others sold sin.

“Oh come on mister, I know you want it~”

“No really, I am fine. I’m actually not here for services.”

“Oh really~? What do you want me to do~?”

“It’s just a question.”

A woman, barely in her 20s, leaned against the edge of a building. Her body all wobbled and unbalanced, eyebags clouded her upper cheeks, and her stench was horrid. The man she talked with wore a business suit. Dress shoes, slacks, his hair was groomed and painted blonde. He had a slight side bang tickling his right eyebrow.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Mary?”

“Mary? Hmm…” The color in her eyes darkened, and strands of hair rested on her forehead. For a split second, she soured her cheeks, and she leaned her body off of the building. Standing straight, she folded her arms beneath her chest. “Maybe. Maybe not. There’s a lot of women named Mary.”

“You see, my wife used to work for a certain agency, a program you may call it. When going through the reports, I happen to stumble into a little girl she mentored…” The prostitute felt rising saliva creep up her throat. Wanting to retort, to dub it crazy, she kept it all wrinkled inside her stomach. But the well-groomed man took a step back. “Life isn’t fair to those society casts out. My wife was lucky, really lucky I gave her something to live for.”

“Do you want a service or not? Stories bore women like me, you know?”

“On second thought… I would like one request.”

Pulling his right hand from out of his pocket, a small business card spawned out of thin air. Like a magic trick, he let the woman’s eyes raise, before extending his hand out. Seeing what it was, the prostitute took a step back, her body grazing against the brick building.

“Take this card. If you were in that program, I know you’ll excel greatly.”

“I don’t like this request. Choose another.”

“Alrighty then.”

Walking forward, he made sure that his body didn’t glow under the city lights. Submerged in the darkened alley, he basked in it, before turning his head right. He noticed the subtle fear she had, like a mouse backed into a corner. Both of her bare feet loose, the tips of her toes gripped the ground.

“Let’s see if you still have it in you.”

________________________________________________________________________

Back to the present…

The charger sniffled the air. Stan’s ears rang, as the churning fear he had bottled down returned to him. Having his hands grip his rifle, he knew for a fact bullets wouldn’t make a dent.

Someone patted his shoulder.

“No worries Stan, it won’t be easy.”

Holding his hand, Lorraine saw the foul saliva sleaze out of its mouth. Rusting against the metallic floor, the only thing it could do was sniff the air like a dog-human. But that same pat, that same hand, different Loraine, lowered to its original owner.

“And besides, I think there’s a way to take down the charger.”

Looking at the bar to their left, bottles of wine and beer were stacked behind glass. Glimmering under the chandelier light, Stan saw a slight reflection, but it was short-lived. Without chuckling, Fred’s voice lowered to a mere whisper.

“Ethanol is in those bottles. If we somehow ignite them, along with a few other explosives, we have a shot at taking out the charger; but this train cart is gonna be blown as well.”

His own knees felt buckled against, all by the weight of his body. So much pressure, so much stress, it all cultivated on top of his shoulders. Pushing his fingers deep into the rifle, the metal croaked.

“Fred… the odds we are up against—”

“Doesn’t look good I know. But it never hurts to try, no?” His lips quivered, pursed against the tips of his own teeth. “And besides, Luke promised that we’ll make it back alive. No matter what.”

Stan loosened the grip on his rifle. For a split moment, his mind returned to a time six years prior. That day, that collection of screams, blood, debris… all before that, was a time of peace. A time of progress.

‘I did promise that I’ll make it up to him… goddamnit.’

Breathing in once, and then breathing out, each airway that took in oxygen marinated his throat. Feeling it wallow his gums, it wasn’t until he closed his eyes, and saw only black. Being alone with his thoughts, darkness tried to sweep in. No, it was sweeping in. Like some plague, some infested parasite that he wished to leave… he figured it out. He opened his eyes, and allowed his kindled resurgence to witness reality.

“Fred, Loraine, can you two distract the charger while I ready the bottles? Make sure Diego and Gary are up as well.”

“Bet.”

“Double bet.”

“But easy with the footsteps. Who knows how good the beast’s ears are.”

While Stan tiptoed his way toward the bar area, Fred himself had his hands hovering over his hips. His fingers trickling his yo-yos, it wasn’t long before he reached where Gary was. Drool lingering from his lips, Fred bent over.

“Hey get up.”

His voice reduced to a mouse whisper, the chubby man groaned subtly with rolled up eyes. Completely numb to sound, let alone feel, Fred tugged both of his shoulders quietly. Stealing glances at the charger, it growled and roamed on the other end of the train cart. Moving his eyes onto Gary again, he tugged him a bit harder.

“Come on fatass get up…”

“D-D-D”

Sensing that both of his fingers moved, his feet spazzed subtly but not silently. Hearing him fight his unconscious state, Fred grinned… until it went sour.

“Don’t call me a fatass!”

With one yell, Fred burdened his face a crimson red. Quickly turning toward his right, its nuzzle pointed directly at him. He froze, along with Gary who realized his fatal mistake.

The air throttled in a herculean roar.

“C-Crap!”

Having no time to think, Fred and Gary both sprang out from the ground. But unlike Fred, Gary was still recovering from Alexandra’s punch. His legs feeling like jello, he did his best to maintain balance… but that was a far cry. Whilst they heard the charger thunder the floor.

“D-Damn—”

—They heard a gunshot.—

Coming from in back of the beast, it glided through the floor until it stopped in front of Fred. Inches from ramming into he and Gary, it turned its nuzzle back, and inhaled the sweet release of gunpowder. Fred and Gary looked as well, and noticed a man rising from the floor. His hair disleveled, it glued to the sweat on his forehead and temples.

“Come at me… gasps… that punch was nothing…”

Diego pushed up a chuckle, while his whole body radiated warmth. Lowering his revolver, the charger violently shook its head, before charging straight toward him. Barely having enough strength in his legs, he sprinted left. The contents of his stomach rocking cruelly, all he wanted to do was excrete out vomit.

‘Shit!’

Lunging to the right, he did a roll on top of it. As soon as he gripped the metallic flooring once more, he continued on with his sprint. Panting, he pointed his revolver in back of him.

“Come on! I ain’t done playing!”

Firing twice, it only sent the charger to seethe with rage. Pounding the floor, it created a dent, but not enough to create a hole. Drool salivating from its mouth, it began its unholy charge. Feeling the floor quiver, the pain in which it endured vibrated his feet. With half of his ammo in the spinning chamber, his palm pressed hard against the grip.

‘Easy does it Diego…’

Making his footing light, small cramps reverberated across his thighs and shins. With his revolver to his side, he breathed in, and he breathed out. Pushing his body weight on his toes, he bit his lower lip… before lunging forward.

‘You got this… just be lucky…’

He narrowed his eyes and held his breath. The seconds passed like minutes, and he couldn’t even feel the reverberations any longer, until the roaring floor suddenly ceased.

Sliding across the floor, he looked back, all to see the beast struggling to move. Both of its hind legs were wrapped around rope, but not just any rope…

“What are you doing!?”

“Distracting it!”

“Doesn’t look distracting to me!”

Reaching the charger, Diego took out a simple bullet from his pocket. But unlike the others, there was a carving on its shell.

‘Just hope this thing actually works.’

Opening up the chamber, he pushed the bullet into its resting spot. As soon as he clocked it in, the metal clicked, and he spun the chamber before—

—It escaped.—

“Gah!”

Jumping back, Diego didn’t have enough time to draw, let alone shoot. His shoes sliding across the floor, it wasn’t long before he turned around and sprinted away. Barely avoiding a slash from its claws, that single injury would’ve turned lethal. Running toward a wall, he spread out his arms, and looked back. Gripping his revolver, he shook his head, and saw the beast… it didn’t pursue him.

Pointing its nuzzle at a certain teenage girl, her eyes widened tenfold. Using its toes, it crackled the floor as it prowled the poor metal.

“Loraine!”

Gary shot out two times, but its frustration only worsened. Hanging out its fangs, many droplets hissed the floor, and even the ceiling and walls. And worst of all, it didn’t bother to turn toward Gary or Diego. Their distractions,unable to work any longer, the only thing that they could do…

It stumbled.

All three of them, including Fred and Stan, felt a burst of wind explode onto them. Squeezing their eyes, everyone stopped and turned toward the charger. Seeing it roll onto its side, its shoulder burdened against the metal.

“How…”

Despite having a bullet in her stomach, and her body riddled with electricity, her fist was balled and paled. Her knuckles popping out like pop-rocks, she heard them click her ears. Barely keeping herself standing, the woman cladded in black pulled back her arm.

“It hurts.” Blood stained her pale skin. Both her arms resting on her sides, each intook of air soured her throat. Her lips crusted and dried, her voice traveled to a mere whisper. “Although you hurt me, beat me, made me an example of your wits… what I’m seeing aches me more.”

Getting up from the floor, the charger pressed its tar-shot eyes onto the woman in black. Hearing it growl, feeling its anger, it held the fury of a thousand roars. Its teeth only showcased its undying rage, one that was forced upon by the man he was once was.

“He was one of my VIP boyfriends. I promised him a spot… he didn’t have to go to such lengths.”

With both of its front legs, it pounded the metallic floor, creating another dent. This time, cracks sprouted from the flooring, making Alexandra slide her right foot back. Feeling her toes squeeze the leather, she raised both her arms toward the height of her face.

“So you better let me fight.”

“I mean, he’s all yours. We won’t try to take you down or anything.”

Giving Gary a nod, Alexandra didn’t bother to look in his direction. Biting her lower lip, a trail of blood flowed down her chin, before lunging forward. Thrusting back her arms, she side-stepped to the right, to avoid a slash from the charger.

“We got to help her out.”

“Come on Loraine, I think she’s got this.”

“Yeah, but what happens if we all try to escape? You think the charger would let us?”

Even if Stan were to cock up the explosives, there was one variable that they left out. One of which is to keep the charger down, while it succumbs to the flames. It has to be close to the bar. Gary looked down at the ground, and tightened the grip on his pistol, before being helped by Loraine.

“We’ll think of something. Right now, we have to make sure that charger stays put.”

Looking over at Diego, he was still sitting on the ground, his eyes quaking with fear. But it was reasonable. For a split moment, his whole life flashed before him. Memories, experiences, laughs, cries; the whole catalog, yet Gary experienced the same thing.

“Diego! Get the hell up will ya!?”

“Don’t you see we’re biting more than we could chew!?”

“Yet that didn’t stop us huh!? We handled worse than this!”

Diego felt his grip loosen the revolver. Feeling his throat wallow in stress, wallow in nervousness, it jumped and rattled the longer he listened. Turning his eyes toward the charger, he saw the way Alexandra moved with it. But he wasn’t like her, nor Gary or Fred or anyone in this cart. Not even Loraine.

“Come on Diego! It’s better to fail than to not try!”

Better to fail than to try. Even if their plan goes up in smoke, at least they pushed in the effort. And although failure wasn’t an option, it gave them the hope that things would be better, to push for something that’ll be rewarded. With a single breath in, the oxygen circulated around his airways like a whirlwind. Pushing it all out in return, his lips creaked and crackled, before narrowing his eyes.

“F-Fine then!”

Tightening his grip on the revolver, he walked right alongside Fred. The four of them stared at Alexandra’s little ballad.

“What do you want us to do!? Play tag with it!?”

“Loraine and Fred have ropes. To bring it down completely, we have to wrangle those ropes around its legs, tightly.”

“But this isn’t a cow we’re wrangling up.”

“Does it look like I know that? We aren’t that strong to begin with, but I know one person girthy enough to do so.”

All of their eyes were pushed on Alexandra. Sensing that there were eyes on her, she turned to look at them, specifically Gary. Seeing his nod, she jumped back, and made her way toward the group.

“You guys ready?” Asked Gary.

“I’m born ready.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, let’s just do this.”

With the five of them charging up front, Gary and Loraine ran to the left. While the charger had its eyes on Alexandra, she didn’t jump or leap like she used to. Using only the tips of her toes, like always, she side-stepped around the charger.

Having her within its pupils, it gave Loraine the chance to thrust out her arms.

“Heave ho!”

Her nylon rope extended out, it tightened around its ankles, digging them deep. Despite it being flexible, Loraine’s arms were built for strength. Feeling her shoulders and biceps already strangled in stress, red burdened her eyes.

“H-Help!”

“On it!”

But even with Gary’s help, they were far from holding it down. Feeling its ankles stall, it turned toward the direction where Gary and Loraine were. Showcasing its blackish teeth, it clawed its way toward the two of them.

Their faces squeezing themselves together, they couldn’t allow an ounce of fear to reign in. If they panicked, their plan would be for nought. Barely able to clench on the floor, their footwear started to scream from—

—It’s chin slammed to the floor.—

They stared at the beast that sprawled with conjoined feet, their bodies recovering from the mini quake. Two pairs of feet, all wrapped around their ankles, while the other rope that was used had razors. Acting like barbs on a bee-stinger, it glued deep into the tar.

“Too easy!”

Right behind Fred, was the tuxedo wearing woman. Her palms stuck to the yo-yos, she and Fred soared all they had in those razor-whips. But what about Diego? Hovering right behind Gary, a spiked hair man dug their palms on the nylon.

“So what now!”

“I don’t know! I never thought we would make it this far!”

“Then how do we get it to the bar!?”

“... shit!”

Despite it having it submit to their whims, they were farther away from the bar than they thought. As the charger did its best to wiggle, half of the group’s strength was all done by Alexandra. From the bar, Stan noticed their struggle, as he finalized the last of his concoctions.

‘So they finally got the bastard down…’

Broken locks littered the floor, as whisky and wine mingled in the free glass cups. Shards crunching beneath his feet, the cabinets he opened by force hang loose. But above all, the stench of ethanol fluttered his nostrils down to his lungs.

‘But they really bit off more than they could chew. How will they get the bastard near here?’

It’s nuzzle thundering like a motorized car, it throttled the air and metal around him. Feeling it pulsate his heart, it was in sync, until he shook his head and looked down at his bottles. All of the caps were sealed off, with vapors trickling the inside glass. With no ventilation, pressure increases, making ethanol more unstable than it should be. And because alcohol has a staggering amount of ethanol…

‘Looks like everything is accounted for. All I need is a boom…’

Pushing his left hand into his pocket, he caressed the metal of a spherical ball. Knowing what it was, he nodded to himself, before pulling his hand right out. He heard a snap. From Loraine’s nylon rope, the center began to strain in a monument of stress. Noticing even Alexandra getting tired, a flicker of sweat ran down his temple.

‘But they need another distraction…’

Loraine laid down on the floor, with only biceps, triceps, and shoulders bulging in strength. Both Gary and Diego hung their jaws out, along with Fred, as they all were bent with exhaustion. And being the only one to not do anything, both of his hands contorted into fists. Pushing his nails deep into his palm, he soared all that he had.

‘How can I distract it?! It uses scent, but I don’t smell anything unique! Does it hunt by perfume!? Odor!? What type of liquid does it—’

His nails chipped.

“Gah!”

Feeling it burn his fingers, he raised his right hand, and noticed the crookedness of his nails. Blood riveting from the tips, he hissed it out through his lips, before… he looked up. Staring at the charger, its body loosened slightly, while it arched its head up. Like it was sniffing out something, it tried to detect whatever satisfied its pleasure. Looking back down at his nails once more, he gulped, before darkening his eyes.

‘Guess this is how it goes…’

With his left hand, he grabbed a nearby beer bottle that was empty. Slamming it on the table, hundreds of glass shards rolled on the wood, and to the floor. With one side of the bottle sticking out, it took the form of a knife.

—‘Forgive me Hope.’—

Having his right hand on the table, he laid the knife-like bottle on his pinkie. Gulping once, he pressed the bottle deep, and began slicing. A raging shiver thrusted into his head, a warning to stop; but he kept going. Back and forth, rinse repeat, he laid his eyes on the pinkie that sprinkled in red. Seeing a multitude of blood pour, he bit the insides of his cheeks. He tasted iron. His right shoulder weakened, as his own body fought back against his own self-harm.

Unable to keep the blood in his mouth, he coughed it out.

‘Almost there…’

Even the wooden table started to be coated red. Like a saw, he narrowed his vein-filled eyes as the pain scoured his skin. Feeling it burn, feeling it dampen his clothes, the sweat he unleashed doubled or even tripled. Hearing the grinding of bone, he couldn’t look at the poor pinkie any longer…

He stared at the charger, whose nuzzle honed in on that strong scent.

‘Come on… almost there!’

Coughing out blood once again, it was all from his cheeks, rather than his insides. Tears riveted from his eyes, they rolled, as the forbidden pain soured his right arm. Gasping out air, his jaw flapped open, and he closed it shut to munch on more flesh.

‘Almost… there!’

The bottle grazed wood. Blood gushing out of his missing pinkie, it was separated from his hand. Wrinkles strangling his cheeks, he pushed his eyes onto the group of five.
“Everyone retreat!”

By hearing his roar, and smelling the scent of blood, it made its eyes squint dastardly. So much cruelty within them, it was enough to throttle its vocals, making it shrill. Unable to pound the metallic floor like it used to, it was left to seethe against the metallic ropes…

But it wasn’t long before they were loosened.

“Come on!”

The five of them ran toward the train cart, their breaths wheezing out impure air. Pushing all that they can, their eyes gleamed in pain, as their bodies were already stressed to begin with, mostly from all the pulling.

‘Come on Stan… come on…’

Both of his legs began to wobble. Even if it was just a pinkie he lost, the pain gnawed every nerve in his body. The blood that sullied his skin, down to his knuckles, wrinkled his hand.

Gary and Diego were the first to reach the train cart door, as the beast charged at the bar. Their bait being Stan’s pinkie, the elf took out a grenade, and pulled off the pin. Throwing it back-hand, they only had several seconds.

“Hurry Stan! Come on!”

Fred and Loraine reached the door as well, but Alexandra’s legs turned to jello. Feeling like she was stepping on cotton, her shoes had no firm grip on the flooring. But even so, she reached the train cart just in time.

—Stan tripped.---

‘Ah…’

Turning his head back, he saw the charger already raising his fists. Being right at the bar, right where his pinkie laid, it sent its fists right into the wood. But Stan was meters away from the door.

‘Oh no…’

Right as he closed his eyes… something wrapped around his waist. Feeling the edges of it cut across his stomach, it wasn’t deep, but it came with pinching pain. And he felt his whole body thrust back. All by force, his jacket and pants created friction upon the metallic surface.

—While a gust of air whipped in front of them—

The shockwave rippled his muscles, and everyone else felt it as well. Forcing his eyes open, he kept his eyes peeled at the fiery flames that engulfed the cart. So much inferno, so much heat, he shielded his eyes from the wave.

And sprawling on the ground, his arms and legs panned sweat on the metal. Looking up at the ceiling, he found solace as his face finally relaxed.

“Fred…”

“Just in case anyone tripped, I made sure to learn from their mistakes.”

Many years prior, Fred made a blunder no man should ever do. Learning from it, dreading it, he took the necessary precaution when reacting to such a thing.

All of them straining the floor with their butts, they stared at the shifting landscape. Dunes taller than most buildings, they heard the rest of the train carts dislodge from behind. Withering away in the distance, it was a solemn wave.

“Talk about a leap of faith.” Said Gary.

“Faith? That was guaranteed luck!” Said Diego.

“But we all made it out ok, we should be grateful that we defeated such a beast…” Muttered Fred.

The three of them stared at Stan, who groaned slowly with a flattened back. Blood still oozing from his pinkie, Fred was the first to reach down toward his hand. From his pocket, he took out a simple bondage of white. Lifting his hand, Fred began wrapping it with calm eyes. As for the two men behind him, they turned toward Loraine and Alexandra, who now lay to rest.

“Carry Loraine will ya? You're stronger than I am.”

“Just because I’m big, doesn’t make me strong.”

“Uh yeah it does. Why do the strongest dudes have the biggest bellies?”

“Sighs … fine.”

Walking over toward Loraine, he picked her up, and made her rest on his back. Like a pillow, her cheek pressed onto his back. As for Diego, he saw the way Alexandra slept, her face vulnerable and pale to the touch. Picking her up like a princess, he followed Gary. But turning his eyes toward Fred and Stan, his cheeks loosened against his chin.

“You coming Fred?”

“I’ll be there in a bit. Just let me patch him up.”

“Oh ok…”

Giving him a nod, Fred noticed the amount of blood Stan was losing. Time ticking for him, he was finished with one role, but the bondage crinkled. Pushing his hand into his pocket, his nails grazed against fabric, yet no strips raised his eyes.

‘Why is everyone out to get us? Is it because of the price of our heads, or the title we were dubbed with?’ thought Fred.

Stan’s whole body was slugged to gravity. From his legs, down to his feet, walking would be cruel for the elf.

Letting him piggyback him, Stan barely held himself against his body. As Fred walked, he could only articulate thoughts, ones that held a rhythm of articulation. But most of all…

‘What is it they’re really after?’

He noticed a small capsule; right at the corner wall of the cart.

Inside of such a small glass container, a black sludge of what looked to be tar ebbed and moved. Like it was a symbiote, Fred gulped, but he knew it was only the movement of the train. Without so much as lighting up his eyes, he walked toward the small vial.

Bending down, and grabbing it, he stuffed it in his pocket and set off. He heard only the wind, as the whistling deafened Stan’s snoring.

‘I have so many questions; we have so many questions.’